The road to hell snakes in twists and turns through a facade of verdant paradise. As your convoy weaves its way ever northward, you can't help but wonder how so rich an Eden could cloak such a terrible truth. Through a thin window you watch rolling green peaks rise and fall, punctuated by alpine bluffs of craggy, windswept rock. In the distance you can see the outline of a mountain range. You might have gaped in awe if it weren't for the constricting leather bands of a muzzle clenching your jaws shut.
Five heavily-armed guards sit across from you warily, fingers tense, ready to flick the safeties off and suppress any werewolf that dares to twitch so much as a muscle. The military had forced you and the other wolves to transform into your feral selves and then injected you with a drug desi
