Gray walked into the wolves’ quarters to as warm a welcome as the one he’d faced in the Captain’s office. Of the fifteen wolves assigned to his section, only three acknowledged his presence and he could tell he’d lose two of those by morning. Politics were somewhat muted here, away from the heavy hand of the councils, but he was sure news of his failure was already well on it’s way.
He glanced down at the folder that contained what the Corps thought he’d need to know about his new handler and then tossed it onto his bunk, unread. There was nothing he needed to know, nothing that would make the transition an easier or any less prone to failure. He used to read them, back when he’d thought the key to understanding each other was hidden in the details.
But handlers were handlers, in the end the details didn’t matter.
Star came up behind him and leaned into his back, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades; comforting gestures held over from forms long since abandoned. She was his one constant here, and come morning, the only one he could count on to support what he was doing. He leaned back with a sigh, and tried to believe that maybe what he’d been sent here to do was possible.
