The generator's thrum vibrated through the floorboards, a steady heartbeat beneath Lily's bare feet. She blinked against the sudden brightness of the hallway bulb – still a novelty after months of oil lamps. Cold air nipped at her ankles where her pajama pants didn't quite meet her socks. Downstairs, muffled voices argued, sharp consonants cutting through the generator's drone. Rick's voice, low and insistent. Shane's, flatter, edged with impatience. Something about axle grease and mileage.
In the makeshift nursery (formerly Carl's room), the pups' whimpers sharpened into demanding yips. three tiny bodies squirmed in the laundry basket nest lined with old towels. Their eyes weren't open yet, blind velvet lumps seeking warmth and milk. Lily scooped up the squawkiest one, its miniature claws catching on her flannel sleeve. The smell of them – warm fur and puppy breath – cut through the lingering chill and the faint tang of diesel from the generator below. she put all three of her babies on the floor and shifted into her wolf form allowing them for find their way to her tits to eat. once they were full, she picks them up and carry them downstairs.
Downstairs, the generator's drone was louder, underscored by the crackle of a newly revived fireplace. Warmth radiated from the hearth, chasing the night's deep freeze from the corners of the living room. Rick stood by the scarred oak table, a map spread out under his hands. Shane leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, arms crossed, his expression tight. glenn hovered near the fire, Lori and carl sat on the couch, Sophia was in the kitchen cooking, her mother stood on the poach carol, said something about feeding the animals while they talked.
Lily settled onto the rug near the fireplace, arranging the pups in a wriggling pile against her legs. The heat soaked through her clothes, a luxury she hadn't felt in months. Rick glanced up, his tension easing slightly at the sight of her and the pups. "Morning," he said, his voice rough. "They settled?" lily nodded
" glenn, shane and daryl" rick started again " would you like to run into town and get everything we need"
Sophia dropped a metal spoon in the kitchen sink with a clatter that made Lily flinch. The pups whimpered, burrowing deeper against her thigh. Shane pushed off the doorframe, his boots scuffing the worn floorboards. "Glenn's got the map memorized. Daryl knows the backroads. Why do I need to freeze my ass off?"
Rick's knuckles whitened on the map's edge. "Because the tractor supply store's got a loading dock ramp. We need that bulk feed hauled fast, Shane. One truck, three strong backs." His gaze flicked to Glenn. "You handle the list – baby formula, diapers, antibiotics if the pharmacy isn't picked clean." Glenn nodded, rubbing his hands near the fire.
sophia had developed feelings for glenn and she didn't want him going out there. she walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. "glenn shouldn't go," she said softly. "he's got the best scavenging instincts, sure, but he's also the lightest on his feet if they run into trouble." she didn't look at glenn directly, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the apron fabric.
Rick sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Sophia, we need those antibiotics. Carl's cough is getting worse, and Lily's pups need formula we can't make." His voice softened slightly. "Glenn's the best we've got for navigating that pharmacy maze."
" soph, ill be fine" glenn said softly, stepping away from the fireplace. He moved toward sophia, his boots crunching on dried mud tracked in from the yard. "Rick's right—Carl needs that medicine. And those pups?" He nodded toward Lily's furry trio nursing contentedly. "They'll starve without formula we dont know how much milk lily can make this is her first litter, most werewolves have on baby at a time on the first litter, it uncommon to have two, and rare to have three. I know the pharmacy's back storage room. Place is a maze of shelves, but I remember where they kept the pediatric stuff." His hand brushed Sophia's flour-dusted sleeve—a quick, reassuring touch that made her flinch less this time.
Rick traced a grease-stained finger along the map's county road. "Daryl, you take the truck bed—cover them while they load. Shane, you're muscle for the fifty-pound feed sacks." Shane's jaw worked silently, but he gave a curt nod. The generator chose that moment to stutter, plunging the room into near-darkness before coughing back to life. Shadows leapt across worried faces. Carol spoke from the porch doorway, her voice carrying the chill she'd brought inside with her. " everyone got their jobs, and that means get to work" coral said softly " sophia, come help me with the chickens" she said softly " glenn, you be careful" sophia said softly " ill be fine" glenn said softly " i promise"
Lily watched Sophia follow Carol out, the girl's shoulders stiff. She nuzzled the smallest pup, its belly round and warm against her palm. The generator's hiccup lingered in the air, a reminder of fragility. Rick folded the map decisively. "Go now. Beat any weather rolling in." He glanced at the grey light pressing against the windows. "Back before dusk, no exceptions." Glenn adjusted his worn jacket, pulling the collar up. Daryl grunted, already heading for the mudroom where their coats hung stiff with cold. Shane lingered, his gaze sweeping the room—Lori comforting Carl's cough on the couch, Lily and her pups by the fire—before he followed Daryl without a word.
The front door slammed shut, rattling the frame. Silence rushed in, thick and sudden, broken only by Carl's rasping breaths and the fireplace's hungry crackle. Lori pressed a cool cloth to Carl's forehead. "Hang tight, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice strained. Lily felt the pups tense against her legs, sensing the shift. She shifted her weight, a low rumble starting deep in her chest—a wolf-mother's instinctive comfort sound. The pups relaxed instantly, pressing closer. The rumble vibrated through her bones, a primal counterpoint to the generator's mechanical thrum.
in nine month the pups will shift into their human form when that happens the need clothes and toys and everything babies need she new this.
The generator's steady thrum faltered again, plunging the room into a heartbeat of near-silence before roaring back. Lori flinched, tightening her grip on Carl. Lily's low rumble deepened, soothing the pups as they pressed velvet noses into her flank. Outside, the truck engine growled to life—a harsher, more urgent sound than the generator—then faded down the gravel drive. Silence pooled thicker now, broken only by Carl's wet cough and the fire's greedy crackle. Lori dipped the cloth into a bowl of tepid water. "Almost out of aspirin," she murmured, more to herself than anyone. "And the willow bark tea isn't touching this fever." Her eyes met Lily's across the room—a shared, unspoken dread. Antibiotics weren't just a hope; they were Carl's lifeline.
" their is a way he would get better" lily said " but rick and you will have to talk it out. " white wolves like me are the only ones that can turn people into werewolves, white wolves are special, they are the only wolves that can turn people, white wolves are rare, that why when fen saw this little pup he was shock.' lily said softly " if you want i can turn carl into a werewolf" lily said softly " his immune system will be stronger" lily said softly " he wont get sick anymore" lily said softly " and being bitten will no longer be a problem for him, but this is rick and your choice you will have to talk to each other."
Lori froze, the damp cloth hovering above Carl's flushed cheek. Her eyes snapped to Lily's, wide with disbelief and a flicker of desperate hope. "Turn him? You mean... make him like you?" Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with fear and exhaustion. Carl whimpered, his small body wracked by another coughing fit that shook the couch. The sound tore at Lori, her knuckles whitening on the bowl's edge. Lily nodded slowly, her wolf-eyes holding Lori's gaze steadily. "His body would fight sickness like mine does. A bite from one of the dead wouldn't kill him. He'd heal faster. Be stronger." She paused, letting the weight of it settle. "But it's forever. He'd be different."
Rick stood motionless by the table, the map forgotten. His face was a mask of conflict—protective father warring with pragmatic leader. "Different how?" His voice was low, gravelly. "The shifting? The instincts?" He gestured vaguely toward Lily's furry form. Lily's ears flattened slightly. "He'd shift when he's older, like pups do at nine months. He'd have instincts... heightened senses, urges. But he'd still be Carl." She nudged the sleeping pup closest to her. "Like them. Still themselves, just... more." The generator hummed its constant note, underscoring the silence that followed. " carl is 12, he would have his first shift the night be is bitten but then he will shift again at 15, after that age carl be able to shift when ever he want, born werewolves shift for the first time when they turn 15, my pups are different, when a wolf spend most of her pregnancy in wolf form the pups are born as wolves."
Lori's hand trembled as she smoothed Carl's sweat-damp hair. "Could he... control it? Or would it be like..." She trailed off, unable to voice the fear of her son becoming a beast. Lily met her gaze steadily. "He'd learn. It takes time. Patience. But he'd have us. Me. To guide him." She paused, letting the implication hang—Carl wouldn't be alone in this. "And the fever? The cough?" Lori pressed, desperation cracking her voice. "Would it stop?" Lily nodded firmly. "Within hours. His body would burn it out. Fast."
Rick paced to the window, staring at the empty gravel drive where the truck had vanished. His shoulders were rigid. "What about the risks? The bite itself?" He turned, eyes sharp. "Does it hurt? Could it... fail?" Lily's ears twitched. "It hurts. Like fire. But only for seconds. Then the healing starts." She nudged a pup awake with her nose; it yawned, revealing needle-sharp milk teeth. "Failure is rare. Only if the heart stops before the change takes hold. Carl's strong. He'd make it."
Lori's breath hitched. She pressed her forehead against Carl's burning temple. "And after? Would he... crave meat? Raw meat?" Lily's tail thumped softly on the rug. "At first, yes. The hunger's fierce. But cooked food satisfies it too. He'd just need more. More protein." She hesitated, her wolf-whisper dropping lower. "The hardest part isn't the body. It's the mind. Smells are overwhelming. Sounds are sharp. Anger flares hot and fast. He'd need calm. Quiet. Especially at the full moon."
Rick turned from the window, his face carved in shadow. "The others. Daryl, Glenn... they don't know." It wasn't a question. Lily dipped her muzzle. "Only Fen knew. And he's gone." Rick's jaw tightened. "If we do this... it stays between us. Lori? You?" Lori didn't look up. Her nod was almost imperceptible. "For Carl," she breathed.
Carl coughed again, a wet, tearing sound that seemed to shake his small frame. Lori flinched. "Do it," she whispered, the words raw. "Now. Please." Rick knelt beside the couch, his hand hovering over Carl's shoulder. "Son?" Carl's eyelids fluttered open, glassy with fever. "Dad?"
Lily shifted her weight, nudging the pups gently aside with her muzzle. She padded closer, her movements deliberate, unhurried. The firelight caught the white fur. "Carl," she murmured, her wolf-voice low and gravelly. "This will hurt. Just for a moment. Then you'll feel stronger." Carl blinked, confused, but nodded weakly against his mother's arm.
Rick placed a steadying hand on Carl's chest. "Look at me, son. Focus right here." His voice was tight, controlled. Lori clutched Carl's hand, her knuckles bone-white. Lily lowered her head, her breath warm on Carl's exposed forearm. Her jaws parted, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. Carl flinched, a small gasp escaping him. Then she struck—fast, precise. A single, deep puncture above the wrist.
Carl cried out, a sharp, startled sound. Blood welled instantly, dark against fever-flushed skin. Lori pressed the damp cloth hard against the wound, murmuring frantic reassurances. Carl whimpered, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Hurts..."
"It's okay," Rick murmured, his hand firm on Carl's shoulder. "Just breathe." The firelight danced across Carl's face, highlighting the unnatural flush.
Lily watched Carl's pupils dilate—not just from pain, but from the sudden flood of adrenaline and primal energy surging through him. His skin beneath the bite mark began to ripple subtly, like disturbed water. The blood flow slowed dramatically; Lily's saliva contained coagulants that sealed the wound faster than any stitch. Carl gasped again, but this time it sounded less like agony and more like shock. He stared at his arm, eyes wide. "It... tingles?" His voice was hoarse but steadier.
" let him go," lily said her voice urgent, " he about to shift"
Lori jerked her hand away from the cloth. Carl arched off the couch, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. His skin flushed crimson, then paled rapidly. Sweat bloomed across his forehead like condensation on cold glass. "Mom... Dad... it burns!" His voice cracked, high-pitched and terrified. Rick held his shoulders firmly, grounding him against the cushions. "Focus on my voice, Carl. Ride it out."
lily pulled lori and rick away, as black fur grew on carl's skin like spilled ink spreading through water. His bones cracked—sharp, sickening pops—as his limbs twisted and reshaped. Carl screamed, a raw, tearing sound that filled the room until his vocal cords thickened into a wolf's throat. The scream became a choked whine. His clothes ripped at the seams as his body expanded, muscle and sinew stretching beneath the emerging fur. Within seconds, a gangly adolescent wolf lay panting on the couch, ribs heaving. His eyes—still Carl's eyes, wide and terrified—locked onto Rick's. lily shift into her wolf form and made her way to the new wolf carl, she lick his muzzle softly " its ok" she said softly " its ok" she said softly " your first shift is over" she said softly " shift back" she said softly " think human"
Carl whined, a high-pitched, uncertain sound that vibrated in his new chest. He tried to stand, but unfamiliar legs tangled in shredded pajama fabric. He stumbled off the couch onto the rug, landing hard beside Lily's pups, who sniffed curiously at this sudden, trembling giant. Rick knelt, hand outstretched but not touching. "Easy, son. Think about your hands. Your fingers." Carl whimpered again, turning his muzzle toward Lily. She nudged him gently with her nose—a firm, reassuring pressure. "Picture your room," she murmured, her wolf-voice low and steady. "Your comic books on the shelf. The feel of your baseball glove." Carl closed his eyes, panting. The black fur began to ripple, receding like tide pulling back from sand. Bones shifted with wet clicks, shrinking, reshaping. The gangly wolf melted inward, collapsing into a shivering, naked twelve-year-old boy curled on the rug.
Lori snatched a quilt from the couch, wrapping Carl tightly. "Oh, baby," she breathed, pulling him against her. He trembled violently, but his skin was already cooler to the touch. The terrifying flush was gone. Rick touched Carl's forehead—cool, damp with sweat, not burning. Carl blinked up at them, dazed but clear-eyed. "Did I... was I a wolf?" His voice was hoarse but lacked the wet rattle of before. He coughed once, experimentally—a dry, normal sound. Lori choked back a sob of relief, burying her face in his hair.
The generator stuttered violently, plunging the room into near-darkness. Only the fireplace cast flickering, monstrous shadows. Lily's pups whimpered, scrambling closer to her legs. Carl flinched at the sudden gloom. "Easy," Lily murmured, shifting back to human form beside him. She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Your senses are dialed way up right now. Noise, light... it'll overwhelm you. Close your eyes, breathe slow." Carl obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut. Rick grabbed an oil lamp from the table, fumbling with the matches. The generator roared back, flooding the room with harsh light just as the lamp flickered to life. Carl whimpered again, shielding his eyes.
"Too bright?" Lori asked softly, adjusting the quilt around him. Carl nodded, his eyes watering. "Everything smells... sharp. Like the fireplace smoke is choking me." Lily nodded. "That'll fade. Focus on one thing. My voice. Or the quilt's texture." Carl gripped the worn fabric, rubbing it between his fingers. "It's scratchy," he mumbled, but his breathing slowed.
Outside, a sudden metallic shriek tore through the quiet—like a crowbar scraping rusted iron. Carl flinched violently, hands clamping over his ears. "The fence gate!" Lori gasped, rising. Rick was already at the window, pistol drawn. "Carol's checking the chickens. Stay here." He moved toward the porch door.
Carl whimpered, the sound muffled by the quilt. "Too loud... smells like... blood?" His nose wrinkled. Lily nodded, understanding. "Carol's cleaning a rabbit near the coop. That's the smell. The gate's just old hinges." She kept her voice low, rhythmic. "Focus on my breathing. Match it." Carl tried, his own breaths shaky but slowing.
Rick eased the porch door open, pistol raised. The metallic screech came again—definitely the main gate's hinge. Carol stood frozen ten yards away, her bucket of chicken feed spilled at her feet. Beyond the chain-link fence, a lone walker strained against the barrier, its rotting hands clawing at the latch. Its jaw worked silently, yellowed teeth exposed. Rick scanned the tree line. Only one. Probably wandered from the highway.
Carol met Rick's eyes, her face pale but composed. She gestured silently toward the toolshed. Rick nodded, keeping his pistol trained on the walker as she slipped inside. Seconds later, she emerged with a long-handled axe. Rick lowered his gun. "Latch is rusted shut," he called softly. "Needs leverage." Carol hefted the axe. "I've got it." She approached the gate cautiously, her boots crunching on frozen gravel. The walker turned its milky eyes toward her, moaning softly.
Inside, Carl flinched again. "She's scared," he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "Carol's scared." Lily's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Her heart's pounding. But she's steady. Listen to her steps—even." Carl nodded, concentrating. Lori smoothed his hair. "Carol's tough. She'll handle it."
Carol planted her feet wide, raised the axe high, and brought it down hard. The blade bit deep into the walker's skull with a sickening crunch. It slumped against the fence, silent. Carol wrenched the axe free, wiped the blade on the frozen grass, then bent to scoop spilled feed back into her bucket. Her hands shook only slightly. "Gate latch froze solid overnight," she called to Rick, her voice steady. "Need some of that axle grease Shane was arguing about." She hauled the walker's corpse away from the fence by its ankles, dragging it toward the compost pit beyond the garden.
Inside, Carl relaxed against Lori's shoulder. "It's quiet now," he murmured. The sharp tang of blood faded from his awareness, replaced by the comforting wool smell of the quilt and woodsmoke. Lily watched him closely. "Your senses will settle," she said. "Like tuning a radio dial. Focus helps." Carl nodded, flexing his fingers. They felt normal again, but stronger. The lingering ache in his chest from the cough was gone, replaced by a strange, humming energy. He touched the bite mark on his arm—two small scabs already forming, neat and clean.
Rick bolted the porch door, his shoulders tense. "One walker shouldn't have gotten that close. Perimeter's getting thin." He glanced at Lily. "Carl's change… does it draw them? Like fresh blood?" Lily shook her head firmly. "No. It's the opposite. Wolves smell like predators to them. They avoid us unless cornered." She nudged a pup awake; it yawned, showing tiny teeth. "Carl smells like pack now. Like safety."
Lori smoothed Carl's hair. "Can he… shift again? On purpose?" Lily nodded. "When he's ready. Not today. His body needs rest." Carl's eyes drifted shut, exhaustion finally claiming him. His breathing deepened, even and clear. No rattle. No fever sweat.
The generator coughed again—a longer, wetter sputter this time. The lights flickered wildly before plunging the room into near-darkness. Only the fireplace remained, casting long, dancing shadows. Lily's pups whined, pressing against her legs. Rick cursed softly, grabbing the oil lamp. "Carol!" he shouted toward the porch. "Check the fuel line!" Outside, Carol's footsteps crunched hurriedly toward the generator shed. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then, abruptly, the generator roared back to life, flooding the room with harsh light. Rick lowered the unlit lamp, relief warring with fresh tension. "We're running on fumes," he muttered. "Literally." He looked at the sleeping Carl, then at the grey, snow-laden sky pressing against the windows. "Hope Glenn finds more than medicine out there."
Lori traced the neat scabs on Carl's forearm. "He feels cool," she whispered, wonder threading her voice. "Really cool." Carl stirred, blinking sleepily. "Mom?" His voice was clearer than it had been in days—no rasp, no congestion. He flexed his fingers experimentally. "My arm feels weird. Tingly. Like... pins and needles." Lily shifted closer. "That's normal. Your body's healing itself. Faster than before." Carl touched the bite mark. "Will it scar?" "A little," Lily admitted. "Like mine." She pushed her sleeve up, revealing twin pale crescents above her own wrist. Carl studied them, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
" only mine where done in a fight me and another omega" lily said
Outside, Carol reappeared at the porch door, wiping grease-stained hands on her coat. "Fuel filter's clogged with sludge," she announced, her breath misting in the cold air she brought inside. "We've got maybe two days left in the main tank. Less if it gets colder." Rick's jaw tightened. "Axle grease *and* diesel fuel on Glenn's list now." He glanced at the map still spread on the table. "Tractor Supply's got tanks. If they haven't been drained." Carol nodded grimly. "Sophia's finishing the chickens. She's… jumpy." Her gaze lingered on Carl, now sleeping peacefully. "He looks better." Lori's smile was thin but genuine. "He is."
Carl stirred, blinking awake. "Dad?" His voice held a startling clarity. "I'm hungry." Not the weak request of a sick child, but a firm declaration. Lori chuckled, a sound rusty with disuse. "What do you want? We've got oatmeal." Carl wrinkled his nose. "Meat." Lily nodded knowingly. "The hunger hits hard after the first shift. Cooked is fine, but yes—protein. Lots." Carol moved toward the kitchen. to cook
" what if we get solar panels? i know how to put them up" lily said softly " and i know how to wire them to the generator" lily said softly " that would help with power"
" agree " rick said softly " solar panels would be good, but we need parts, wiring, batteries..." He rubbed his temples. "Glenn knows salvage yards. We'll add it to the list." Carl tugged Lori's sleeve, eyes bright. "Can I have eggs? With meat?" Carol cracked eggs into a skillet beside strips of rabbit. "Coming up, tough guy."
They talked logistics—prioritizing diesel for immediate survival versus long-term solar plans—as Lily gathered her drowsy pups. She carried them upstairs to her makeshift den, settling them against her warmth. Below, voices blurred into a low hum of planning and worry. Exhaustion pulled her under within minutes.
The crunch of tires on gravel jerked her awake hours later. Not just the supply truck—multiple engines. Lily peered through cracked shutters. Daryl's motorcycle led the convoy, followed by Shane's truck hauling a trailer piled high with sacks and crates. Behind them, two unfamiliar vehicles: a dented school bus painted camouflage green and a stripped-down pickup bristling with jerrycans.
Doors slammed. Shane helped Glenn down, the younger man limping but grinning. Daryl unloaded propane tanks with grim efficiency. Then strangers emerged—four figures blinking in the grey afternoon light. A woman with fierce eyes and a military buzz cut hauled a crate marked MEDICAL. A lanky teenager in a faded band tee dragged a duffel. A girl Carl's age clutched a violin case like a shield. And a broad-shouldered man scanned the tree line, shotgun ready.
Rick stepped onto the porch, hand resting near his holster. Shane gestured sharply. "Found 'em holed up at Jefferson High. Band room fort." The buzz-cut woman stepped forward. "Isabella Cruz. Former ROTC instructor." She nodded to the others. "Marcus, Tessa, Jacob. Sophomores when everything went sideways." Jacob hefted his duffel. "Heard your generator dying a mile out. We've got solar gear."
Daryl spat on the gravel. "Bus runs. Mostly. Found 'em surrounded." Shane cut in. "They saw Glenn's pharmacy bag. Offered meds for passage." Glenn limped forward, clutching a bulging green sack. "Got the antibiotics! Plus insulin, painkillers..." His grin faltered. "Walkers swarmed the parking lot. Marcus hotwired the bus." Marcus shrugged. "Dad taught me before... yeah."
Carol emerged, wiping her hands. "Fuel filter's shot." Isabella pointed to the pickup. "We've got panels. Four 300-watt. Charge controllers. Batteries." Tessa hugged her violin case tighter. "Jacob wired our hideout." Rick's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Shelter's tight, but we've got space. Food?"
Shane jerked a thumb at the trailer. "Six sacks of livestock feed. Canned goods. And this..." He hauled open a crate revealing gleaming propane tanks. "Found 'em behind a diner."
Inside, Carl stirred on the couch. "New people?" Lily nodded, watching through the window. "Survivors. Bringing solar panels." Carl scrambled up, forgetting his quilt. The bite mark throbbed faintly, but his legs felt steady. Stronger. He pressed his nose to the cold glass. "The girl has a violin."
Rick stepped forward, hand still near his holster. "Shelter's tight, but we've got space. Weapons?" Isabella gestured to her hip. "Sidearms only. Lost our rifles clearing the gym." Jacob patted the pickup's hood. "Panels are dusty but intact. We scavenged deep-cycle batteries from RVs."
lily shifted into her wolf and walk out the house to greet the newcomers, she left her pups in a basket by the couch. She stood beside Rick, ears pricked forward. The newcomers froze at the sight of her. Isabella's hand drifted toward her holster. "That's... unexpected."
"Lily's pack," Rick stated flatly. "Harmless unless threatened." Lily dipped her muzzle in confirmation. Jacob stared, slack-jawed. "Actual wolves? Here?"
when lily saw her mate she shift nake as the day she was born and ran to daryl, the newcomer shock again " mate" she said softly " your back" she said softly " pups miss you" she said kissing him.
lily look at the new people " solar panels?" she asked softly " we need them" she said softly " generator is dying" she said softly " i know how to wire them" she said softly " we can have power" she said softly " no more generator" she said softly
they nodded still shock " what are you guys" the older woman asked softly " you shift?"
" yes. i was born this way... me daryl and fen and someothers here are werewolves, the others are human"
Isabella Cruz lowered her hand slowly from her holster, eyes locked on Lily's wolf form. "Werewolves." She tasted the word like unfamiliar ammunition. Beside her, Marcus whispered, "Cool," while Tessa clutched her violin case tighter, knuckles pale. Jacob just stared, mouth slightly open. "Actual... shifting? Like, biology?"
Daryl wrapped an arm around Lily's human shoulders, ignoring her nudity with practiced ease. "S'what she said." His gaze swept over the newcomers, assessing. "Panels work?"
Jacob snapped to attention. "Tested 'em yesterday. Output's solid." He gestured to the pickup bed stacked with solar equipment. "We've got brackets, wiring harnesses... even a spare inverter."
" let start unloading," rick said " lily you have babies to tend too, it back time to feed them your milk again"
lily nodded " yes" she shifted into her wolf form and padded back inside, her fur catching the twilight glow. Upstairs, the pups whimpered at her return, nuzzling against her warmth as she settled. Below, voices rose in coordinated effort—boots scuffing gravel, crates thudding onto the porch.
Carol directed traffic, her voice crisp. "Propane tanks go by the shed. Solar gear stays dry under the awning." Jacob and Marcus wrestled a panel onto sawhorses, while Isabella inventoried medical supplies beside Glenn. "Penicillin. Morphine vials." She held up a small cooler. "Refrigerated insulin. Still cold."
Inside, Carl watched from the window, quilt draped around his shoulders. The violin case leaned against the porch rail. "Can I go out?" he asked Lori. "Just to see?" His skin remained cool, eyes alert. Lori hesitated, then nodded. "Stay close to your father."
Carl padded barefoot onto the porch, the bite mark a faint itch beneath his sleeve. Jacob glanced up from untangling wiring harnesses. "Hey. You're... okay?" Carl nodded, drawn to the solar panels. "Lily said you know how to wire these?" Jacob grinned, holding up a crimping tool. "Yeah! We had a whole rooftop array back at Jefferson. Ran lights, a fridge..." His voice trailed off as Shane heaved a propane tank onto the trailer. "Need brackets mounted south-facing," Jacob added quickly. "Clear line to the sun."
Inside, Glenn sorted antibiotics into a plastic bin. Isabella handed him a vial. "Epinephrine. Found it locked in the nurse's station." She paused, watching Lily nurse her pups upstairs through the open door. "The shifting... does it hurt?" Lily's voice drifted down, calm. "The first time? Like being torn apart and remade. After that? Like stretching stiff muscles." Isabella absorbed this, her gaze shifting to Carl on the porch. "And him?" Glenn capped a bottle. "Fever broke mid-shift. Lungs cleared." He met her eyes. "We got lucky."
Carl traced the edge of a solar panel, its surface cool and gritty with road dust. "How long to set them up?" Jacob wiped grease from a battery terminal. "Couple days if the weather holds. Need to reinforce the barn roof first—best angle." Tessa tuned her violin softly, the notes thin but clear in the cold air. "We played concerts off solar power," she offered shyly. "Before." Carl nodded, fascinated. "Can you play something now?" Before she could answer, Daryl shouldered past with a propane tank. "Less music, more lifting. Roof won't brace itself."
Inside, Lily finished nursing her pups and descended the stairs, human now and dressed in borrowed flannel. She joined Isabella at the medical table. "The insulin—cold chain intact?" Isabella nodded, tapping the cooler. "Ice packs from the cafeteria freezer. Stable." Lily picked up a vial of morphine, her expression tightening. "Painkillers mask scent trails. Dangerous for wolves." Glenn looked up sharply. "Didn't know. We'll lock them in the root cellar." Isabella noted Lily's unease. "Noted. Anything else?" Lily's gaze drifted to Carl on the porch. "Keep antibiotics separate. His healing's accelerated, but infections can still spike."
Outside, Rick supervised Jacob mounting brackets on the barn's south-facing roof. The corrugated metal groaned under Jacob's weight. "Structural integrity's shot!" Jacob called down, hammering a brace into place. "Need cross-supports before panel weight!" Rick scanned the dwindling lumber pile. "Carol—check the toolshed for salvageable beams." Carol jogged off, boots crunching gravel.
the group work to get thing up and run properly...