“My son is missing. We must go past the border to find him.”

  Micah’s father barked, his tail twitching with impatience, his voice echoing across the gathering.

  Micah’s mother sat on the ground, arms wrapped around Nico. Though grief shadowed her face, she tried to soothe the boy, whose chest heaved with sobs. He missed his brother desperately.

  “Sweetheart, everything will be okay, I promise,” she whispered, stroking his hair.

  “But Mom… what if he isn’t? What if the evil humans kill him?” Nico’s voice cracked, trembling with fear.

  “Nico,” she said firmly, though her own voice wavered, “your brother knows better than to mingle with humans. He can handle himself.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The pack murmured among themselves, some nodding in agreement, others shifting uneasily.

  One wolf rose. “But Chief… have you considered he may already be dead?”

  Micah’s father’s eyes blazed. “You dare speak such words? My son is alive. And we will march to save him.”

  Silence fell.

  “If it were me who had been lost,” he growled, “would you hesitate to search for me?”

  The pack lowered their heads, no one daring to answer.

  “Join me and die like warriors, or stay behind and die like cowards. We are fishermen, yes — but we are also leaders. We will cross the ruthless sea and find my son. For he shall be the next leader of Bermuda!”

  A roar of voices rose in unison, the pack cheering, their conviction ignited.

  “Tomorrow,” the Chief declared, his voice thunderous, “we set sail.”