The city stretched out before him like a vast coral reef. Towering buildings and the sweeping arches of freeways had crumbled over the years under the weight of vegetation. Trees climbed through holes in rooftops. Vines zigzagged overhead, barely distinguishable from hydro lines. Broken down cars on the roadside, like empty insect shells, had grown carpets of moss along their hoods. This was not what the brochures had promised. Everything had bent and twisted in the past 20 years so that the organized grid of industrialism seemed suddenly organic. Alive.

Except that he couldn't see a soul. Not at first. Then he spied movement from behind one of the cars and a wolf stalked out. It had coppery fur and a hip pack clipped around its neck with a compartment for a water canteen, and a zipped pouch for supplies. Oryen couldn't be sure what he'd expected to see once inside the wall. A part of him had imagined tables run by different packs offering recruitment like clubs at university frosh week. Ridiculous as that seemed, the emptiness of the entrance to Sector 9 was disconcerting. Oryen tried not to let his discomfort show at the wolf's approach.

I'm one of them now. Not a Fen. It won't hurt me. His confidence in this last reassurance was most shaky of all.

Nevertheless, he spoke. "I take it you're my greeting party?"

The wolf shook out its fur and, mid-motion, began to change. It rose onto two legs and its fur receded, its muzzle shrinking into a normal, human nose. Before Oryen could avert his eyes, a woman stood before him, naked except for the hip pack and collar around her neck. Her bouncing, generous figure gave her the appearance of an ancient fertility idol, and she smiled warmly as though nothing was amiss with her clothing situation. Oryen trained his eyes diligently on her face and schooled his features into as gentlemanly an expression as he could manage. He noticed that she wore the same collar he had, only her tag had a gold stripe painted on it, and was accompanied by a small charm in the shape of a wolf's tooth.

"Uh," Oryen said. "Would you like to borrow my shirt?"

She laughed. "I suppose you're really green if you're not used to this yet."

"This?" Oryen stared slightly to the left.

"Nudity," she affirmed. She leaned into his field of vision, her braids swinging over a shoulder. "You can stare if you want to get it over with. Might be less awkward."

He gave her a once over and then affixed his gaze to her face again. "Very nice," he said politely, the way one might say 'good job' to a toddler who'd successfully coloured in the lines. This was apparently the wrong thing to say.

"Nice? I'm nearly 30 and they still salute when I take my bra off," she said, lifting her breasts in both hands and dropping them to demonstrate. As Oryen opened his mouth to apologize, she waved him off. "I'm yanking your chain. You like 'em skinny? Should have sent Riva to greet you instead."

"And you are?" Oryen asked, skillfully dodging the question.

"Aryeta! Oh, sorry, should have probably introduced myself before... all that. I'm honestly just used to it by now. Seriously. Give it a month. Werewolves have no shame."

"Good to know. I'm Oryen, by the way."

"Well, welcome to Sector 9, Oryen. I'm here to give you a tour. Recruit you, too, if you're up for it." She looked him up and down, lips pursed. "You're big so all the other packs will want you. Everyone always needs more muscle. Glad I got here first."

Oryen tilted his head. "Which pack do you represent?"

"Mardero, of course. Only the best."

Oryen felt a flood of relief. It seemed the only bit of good luck he'd come by this week.

"You game?"

Oryen nodded.

"Great! Then transform and we can blow this popsicle stand."

"Yeah, about that. I can't." Lifting the sleeve of his jacket, Oryen showed her the bandages wrapped around his arm. "I was only bitten a few days ago."

"Shit. You're just a puppy." Aryeta ran a hand through her hair. Chewing her lip, she gave a shrug. "Well, it'll take longer, but we can still walk it. Just let me get dressed." She pulled the hip pack over her head and unzipped the front. Inside, she'd rolled up a light pair of shorts and a green patterned poncho. She shook these out and put them on. "Lycanthropy is no cure for sunburn," she explained. "Come on."

Oryen followed. Only a short distance from the entrance, more werewolves emerged out of a copse of trees. Some in human form, others still wolves. Oryen's heart rate ratcheted up at the sight of their hulking shapes slinking from the shadows. This number would have presented a challenge for him in the Fens, and it was difficult to shake the sense of walking into an ambush rather than finding allies in their wary faces.

Aryeta whistled a greeting. Seeing Oryen's face, she said, "These guys are just some of the other recruits. Plus some Kappas from Mardero, but they're here just in case we run into trouble."

Oryen didn't know what 'Kappa' meant, nor did he want to know what she meant by 'trouble.'

He scanned the faces of those in human form to see if he recognized anyone, or if they recognized him. The danger of being known for a Fen by anyone he'd quarantined himself threatened like teeth grazing the back of his neck. Thankfully, nobody seemed bothered and most ignored him entirely. Aryeta led them onward, keeping to the road.

Along the way, Aryeta fell into step with him. "Want me to check it out?" At his confused expression she added, "Your wound. I'm not just a recruiter, I'm a medic. I was a doctor on the outside. Sort of. Clinical technician. Point is, I know some things."

Oryen shook his head. "The bandages are fresh for now."

Aryeta's warm, welcoming smile dissolved into a scowl of disapproval. "That's barbaric, you know. Sending you in before your first transformation. Do they have any idea—no, of course not. Not like they care. It's okay though! Not to worry. We'll take good care of you at Mardero while you get accustomed to your new...everything."

"Yeah, about Mardero. I might have been told that quarantine was no different from life outside. So is Mardero, like..." He looked around at the forest, which had claimed most of what humanity might call civilization. "Are there toilets there?" he said, at a loss.

"Well, there are toilets. But just like life outside is a bit of a stretch—"

"Electricity?" Oryen ventured.

"Some."
"Wi-fi?"

"Definitely not."

Oryen's shoulders sagged. "Pizza delivery?"

Aryeta paused. "Huh. I don't actually know. I cook most of the time."

"So there's a grocery store? Do you use money or trade or—"

"It might be easier if we just show you." She patted him on the shoulder.

Oryen swallowed the rest of his questions. It was difficult to imagine life being anything close to normal when staring down a vacant road whose only vehicles looked like they belonged in a museum.

The trees provided shade during their journey, but the sun's heat penetrated the canopy enough to cause discomfort. Oryen found his neck itched beneath the collar, where sweat stuck to his skin. He wondered if he could manage to get soap under there without pulling at the needles. Around him, the other recruits scratched the skin around their collars too. Aryeta and her fellow Mardero wolves didn't seem so bothered. The leather of their collars looked older and more supple. Most of their tags had been painted with the same gold stripe as Aryeta's.

At a turn in the path, all the werewolves stopped in unison. Only Oryen took another step, looking back at them in wonder. Ears pricked, heads tilted, they all seemed to hear things Oryen couldn't. Aryeta stepped in front of him, nostrils flaring. After a delay, the scent hit Oryen too. Fur, sweat, and the metallic smell of blood.

Out of the bushes crashed a wolf. Tall, spindly and covered in coarse black fur, she skidded to a halt and transformed into an equally tall and spindly woman. Her dark hair had bits of leaf in it, her pale skin smudged with dirt and scratches. With her long, narrow features, she looked more like a fawn than a human being. She stumbled over her words and reached out to grasp Aryeta by the arm.

She spoke between gasps for breath. "Tag collectors. Chasing me. You've got to help—" She cut herself off, staring at Aryeta's neck.

Aryeta said, "Slow down, you said tag collectors were after you?"

The fawn-like woman pointed to Aryeta's collar, at the tag painted gold. "You're from Mardero! You have to take me there."

"Slow down," Aryeta said again. The frenzy of the woman set Oryen's teeth on edge. He hadn't been in the sector more than a couple hours, and they were already beset by danger.

"You don't understand, my name's Jezarri Qaelish—"

Aryeta recognized the name, but before Jezarri could explain any further, the sound of more thundering footsteps echoed through the trees, getting steadily closer. The Mardero wolves—the Kappas, as Aryeta had called them—tensed and moved towards the sound. It got louder. The snap of branches followed and, most disconcertingly, the noisy jangle of chains. Three wolves emerged from the trees. They stopped in front of the group, eyes darting between Jezarri and the two Kappas barring their path to her. Jezarri took a step behind Aryeta, shaking like a leaf.

These tag collectors had clearly earned the name in a literal sense. From their collars hung loops of tags identical to the one Oryen wore on his collar. The wolf at the fore had collected the better part of three dozen, forming a clinking chain swinging in loops around his neck.

Oryen couldn't quite wrap his head around what he was seeing. Banditry? Werewolves willing to cut the tags from another for an extra share of rations. It made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

One of the Kappas transformed from a wolf into a broad bloke with greying hair and a scratchy tattoo on his bicep. He took a step toward the tag collectors.

"Shiko, be careful," Aryeta said, still holding Jezarri's shaking hand.

"You're in contempt of quarantine law for tag collecting," Shiko said. From the pouch around his neck, he pulled a pair of inhibitors. That he was stark naked didn't seem to affect anyone present, except for Oryen who felt vulnerable just looking at him. "With Mardero's authority, I can take you to the Alpha for judgment. Or you can leave us."

Mardero's authority? Oryen hadn't realized that a pack held such authority within quarantine. Apparently, they did. Enough that they'd been given tech like the inhibitors as a measure to keep the peace. So Mardero was trusted by the quarantine initiative...but not trusted enough to be given weapons or siinca.

The collectors bristled and shifted. Oryen thought they'd bolt, but instead, their eyes flitted from one face to another. Taking count. Sizing each of them up. Reflexively, Oryen grasped Aryeta by the elbow.

They weren't going to run or come quietly.

Shiko and his comrade realized it too. In a burst of motion Oryen's eyes could hardly follow, fur shredded through skin, faces elongated, mouths gaping full of teeth turned to snouts. The tag collectors burst forth like water from a dam. They slammed into the Kappas, a collision that kicked up dead leaves and sent tufts of fur spraying in the air.

Aryeta turned and shouted at everyone. "Run! Go take cover in the trees."