“Yes,” I say. “Each act is designed to trigger a response.”
Ciaran’s eyes darken. “From humans.”
“And from your pack,” I add.
Silence settles for a moment, heavy with agreement.
I keep my voice low and controlled. “The goal is conflict. They want humans armed and sweeping the woods. They want wolves cornered, panicked, and violent.”
Ansel studies my face. “To what end.”
“That is what I cannot solve,” I admit. “Why would anyone want hunters shooting wolves and shifters shredding humans.”
Ciaran’s expression goes still. “Power.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe leverage inside your hierarchy. Maybe forcing exposure to eliminate leadership.”
Ansel’s eyes sharpen slightly at the implication, though he does not speak. Ciaran’s gaze remains fixed on mine, watching for a misstep.
I inhale slowly, then let the next thought out carefully. “There is also the patrol schedule issue.”
Ciaran’s posture tightens. “We know.”
“We know it broadly,” I say. “I think it is more specific than that.”
The injured wolf groaned and twisted on the table. Ansel rushed to him with an herbal paste mashed in a mortar and pestle that he spooned into the injured wolf’s mouth.
“That’s enough. You have to leave.”
I nod and begin packing my equipment. Before I leave, I glance once more at the table.
The injured wolf’s chest rises under linen, the carved marks hidden now. The image of them remains sharp anyway, and it sits beside the porch gouges in my mind like matching fingerprints.
The patrol rotationcharts are pinned in neat columns on the cabin wall.
Route names and time stamps are written in thick black marker, updated by hand with small adjustments in red. I step closer and pull out my highlighter, then lay my earlier corridor map beside the charts for reference.
The pattern is there. It always has been.
The repeated shifts in weak border zones cluster around the same quadrants, and the same teams rotate through them at statistically odd frequencies. If it were random, it would spread wider. If it were administrative convenience, it would repeat evenly.
This repeats with intent.
I trace the rotations with my finger.
Team three. Team five. East boundary handoff. Another repeat two days later. Then again, but with a slightly altered time that creates a brief gap.
My pulse picks up.
I pull my notebook out and compare the dates to the attack timeline I’ve built. The overlap is not perfect, but it is close enough to tighten my throat. The rogue does not need perfect overlap; he needs predictable opportunities.
I highlight the repeated shifts. Then I highlight the red adjustments.
Then I circle the initials beside the changes, because someone is always responsible for pen strokes.
An anomaly emerges.
One set of initials appears more often than the others in the weak zones, always present near the handoff timing changes. That does not prove guilt, but it proves access and a pattern. Either someone exploited the pattern, or the initials could lead us to whoever is involved.
