"When the world fell apart," I said, "the people who still had power, human leadership, the werewolf elders, they built the camps. Camps meant food. Rules. Walls. But the camps only wanted people who were useful. Skilled. Connected."
I dragged the stick through the embers.
"The rest of us stayed outside. Outside had no rules. People without rules are worse than infected wolves. They band up. The biggest fist sets the menu. Maia and I lived there for four years."
A log shifted. The bowl in his hand moved a fraction.
"They fed us one meal a day. Maia was too small for the heavy work, so she got a half ration. I split mine in half and gave her the other piece. Those four years I was a stick wearing clothes."
I smiled at the fire. It didn't make it to my eyes.
"She was thirteen. Every ni
