//A MONTH AND A HALF FORTH, WE REJOIN THE PROTAGONIST//

Laila scurried across the ground, paws soft against the mud, searching for the crack she knew would be there. With a few swipes, it opened up enough for her to slip through, sliding into bat form as she entered and sidling into the room, a small area in the craggy roof of the cavern; one of the many being used by the vampire army. The chatting vampires in the centre of the room didn't seem to see her as she slithered over the cracks, clinging to the rock with the claws at the end of her wings to see the map.

To her disappointment, it was the same regulation map in all the rest; no future movements to report back to camp. She got a sideways glance from one of the low-ranking vampires as she flew back out.

Still feeling unsure that she should be working against the vampires but with the rest of her strawberry doughnut stash currently being held hostage by Brah'k, she transformed back into a wolf cub, blending with the muddy ground, wincing at the red streak she saw nearby. The Moon rose overhead, and she clambered towards the rise, drawing back into a patch of mud at the sound of pawsteps.

Over the rise came three pitch black figures, much too large to be regular werewolves. They had fangs stained red and haunches jutting up like mountains from their backs, eyes black and glimmering like oil, staring over the landscape like they owned everything upon it, living or dead. Staring over it like the future of everything upon it was to be moulded like putty in their serrated claws.

---

The protagonist was running.

Fast.

Well, relatively fast. She was kinda tired. Also kinda busy trying to make a plan to rescue her strawberry doughnuts. And possibly end the war by offering them to both sides.

... She probably didn't have enough strawberry doughnuts.

Laila leapt off the ground and soared up as a bat, swishing some leaves along with her, up to a sprite river.

"Gladys! Any werewolf meetings around here?"

The sprite sighed, ticking off a cohort and floating over.

"You know I'm not meant to give information to any non-sprites until the war is over Laila. You gotta stop asking me. But in other news, there's definitely not a market over in Cohort Two's area. Near the edge of the Mid-rippan Sector. Have fun not going there."

Gladys floated off and Laila flew after Cohort Two. She liked 'definitely not markets'. Gladys had pointed her to one before, and she saw a play about dragons. She liked dragons. Overall, 'definitely not markets' were generally much better than 'definitely markets', but she wasn't sure what they were if they weren't markets.

However, all that is irrelevant, so now we will skip forward to when Laila arrives at the 'definitely not a market'.

Bounding around excitedly, the fluffy yellow wolf cub bounds around bouncily because honestly I could go and look up a bunch of synonyms for bounding and bouncing but they're the key words of all of the protagonist's movements in any point of this book so why should I bother? Anyway, luckily it was a werewolf meeting, as otherwise we probably would've just lost our protagonist.

After a few more minutes of bounding and bouncing, Laila realised that a few of the red and white stall overhang things were ripped and the stalls themselves were old and wobbly, and most of the werewolves were heading off someplace. Being a curious (and bouncy) werewolf, she followed.

Laila bounded around slightly less as she took in the overall condition of the 'not a market'. All of the stalls needed a lick of paint at best, some were just three legged tables with minor wares on them. Most of them sold food, water, healing supplies and weapons. And none of them had posters to see plays about dragons. In a moment of sudden maturity, Laila realised that the war is starting to wear down the werewolves of the Manjirippun reserve, as they settle into the cold hard dread that tomorrow will bring more conflict, another chance to lose a friend.

Then she sees a cupcake stall and starts bouncing around again as she needed something to fill the strawberry doughnut-sized hole in her stomach.

With a mouth full of cupcake and chewing away happily, Laila walked to the crowd at the edge of a red-roofed stage, a broken jukebox at the edge lined with spiderwebs. Murmurs run through the crowd as officials make official speeches, all probably important for Laila to know but all definitely too boring for her to pay attention to.

"And now an official speech by Yueler Marrow'b of the Wopp'b Tribe... a gracing by Miss Hyonsen't of the Tyrpnum't Tribe... an update on the satellite hacking from Yanskan'z of the Glorysen'z Tribe... unsuccessful again I see, Yanskan'z... and finally one of the olden fighters, Thrasymedes of the- oh. Right. *ahem* Thrasymedes, sir, the stage is yours."

Laila, having finished her cupcake, was attentive enough to realise something was happening. Moving into the gap in front of her due to some werewolves vacating the area with low mutters, she bounded up and down and got a good view of her mentor, happily surprised that she recognised someone.

"So... Thrasymedes, what's your view on this war? Not long until we win, right, old chap?"

The presenter, an aged orange-ish werewolf, laughed nervously. A few more members of the crowd departed. Thrasymedes stepped forwards on the stage, brown fur looking dull in the strange lighting.

"All of you who wish to stay already know what I wish to say."

In the background, the presenter nervously attempted to steer the conversation to something nice and simple like the velocity needed to escape the solar system in a ten ton rocket. He trailed off with another nervous laugh, and the audience hushed under Thrasymedes' fierce gaze.

"This is the end of the world if we let this madness go on. The vampires won't give up. They're hunting for blood, to see the rivers run red. Neither will we, not until we have revenge for every petty little thing they've done. We'll kill the world around us until the war is done; and with two species as evenly matched as ours, it will continue for far too long. We know each other's weaknesses, each other's flaws. But both species have a far greater, shared, flaw...

"An inability to make peace."

Thrasymedes stalked off stage, and the presenter tried to make a light-hearted joke to wrap up the announcements as the last members of the audience dispersed.

"Mentor!"

Thrasymedes let the young pup catch up with him with a sigh.

"What are you doing here, Laila? You ought to be keeping as far from the war as possible."

"Brah'k's holding my strawberry doughnuts hostage, so I've gotta help."

Thrasymedes growled softly, tensing up. "They're just things, Lai. Go and buy more. Better yet, stick to Atlantis and that forsaken human town until this war is over. Even Brah'k has got to see the sense in that."

"Maybe. But I saw some weird werewolves today and-"

"Laila, head home. This isn't a place for-"

"-they were all big and black and scary and possibly evil and-"

"-a young werepire like- what?"

"-yeah, I bet they were really evil, growled a lot too, permanently haunched up or however you say it- maybe they were hunch-backs? What does a hunch-back look like in werewolves?"

Thrasymedes stood still for a second, gazing blankly at Laila, then swore.

"They had to bring them in, just had to... the war'll never end now..."

"Bring who in? Also, do you think world peace by strawberry doughnuts is possible?"

"SHUT UP ABOUT THE STRAWBERRY DOUGHNUTS!"

Laila flickered into bat form for a second, then looked up innocently at her mentor.

"Sorry I'm... stressed." Thrasymedes sighed and looked up at the sky. "Listen, Lai, those were Dire Wolves. They live only for the destruction of everything around them. If they've already been called on... look, Lai, you gotta get out of this war. If you're a vampire, the Dires are going to get you. If you're a werewolf, there are enemies hiding in every nook and cranny they can squeeze into. If you're both... there's nowhere to hide."

Walking off, Thrasymedes glanced back.

"Get out of this war, Laila."