The Sentinels our godless mettle [m]

lasher's call filtered through the woods, ragged yet triumphant -- tachyon felt the fur along his spine prickle and his ears and mouth turned towards the swaying cry. the message was clear: the she-wolf was dead. he felt a rush of something strange seize his heart.  a barbaric feeling of protective love and sickening anger. a feeling refugees and prisoners alike who had witnessed great horrific violences knew.  just as quickly it washed away, and wednesday's chapter of terror was closed forever.