2 days later – 4 weeks left until second transmission

Much to Henry's complete surprise, their extended artifact hunt was proving to be a success beyond his wildest imaginations.

That wasn't to say it had gone perfectly smoothly, or even without casualties, exactly… in truth, there were plenty of injuries to go around. The lot of them crazy enough to test their luck understood that going in, and there had been plenty of times where confidence met reality against foreign magic.

Henry's clone had bit the dust on behalf of one of the others, about a day back. His time had been running short, and one of the other mages got into a situation that at least someone would have to take the fall on. For him, it was an easy decision. This way, nothing had been lost that couldn't be brought back again. Even the odd broken bone was within their ability to mend, courtesy of their small clique of Fauna mages operating as what passed for doctors in Hallow London.

The physical injuries were well within their collective ability to wipe away. The mental shock of seeing someone die right in front of you, on the other hand…

...Well, at least the loot made for a good distraction.

Currently, they were sitting pretty at just under a dozen artifacts of various shapes, sizes and use cases. A few of them were little more than curiosities that some high-ranking Noble official might use to line his shelf – seriously, what good was a rubber duck that could release a constant stream of bubbles against a vampire? – but nonetheless, they'd picked each curse region clean of anything that had even remotely any resale value. Any of the scavengers he'd worked with while still under the Nobles' thumb would be salivating at a haul like this.

Literally. At market value, these items could probably guarantee almost a full nine months of rations for a family of four. Provided his numbers were still accurate, at least. He was hedging his bets on that front.

Scarcity is around every corner, after all…

His thoughts wandered back to William's casual mention of food riots in the Nobles' territory. Honestly, he was surprised that they hadn't happened sooner, more than anything. It didn't exactly take a genius to understand that, without support, Hallow London would starve itself out sooner rather than later. Could be a year from now, could be two, but with tens of thousands of mouths to feed, even when the Nobles pushed what renewable sources of food they had to their absolute limits, it hadn't been enough. The odd drifters Henry used to spend time with still only ever complained about portions getting more and more meager.

Goes to show just why getting back into contact with the outside world was such a godsend for them. But, at least for about another few weeks… the right corrupt official would make sure none of their group went hungry. For a price.

He tried to puzzle out the rough amount they could expect to receive for their spoils for a bit longer, before returning his attention to the surroundings. By all metrics, this was what he would consider to be a 'clear night'. The mist, for the most part, was only hanging around at about ankle-level, keeping lines of sight almost perfectly clear by comparison. A few loose clouds milled about here and there every so often, but all told, this was about as good as the weather got as far as the Shroud was concerned. As he looked over his shoulder to check behind him – a habit that many nights alone had drilled into him – he noticed Martin breaking out of their loose formation to get his attention.

"I just got word from some of the fellows watching our backs," he mumbled just loud enough so only the two of them could hear. "We've got company following us."

Henry frowned. Bad news seemed to follow them at regular intervals. Here's hoping this one wasn't as bad as the Dryad had been.

"How many are we looking at?", he asked quietly.

"At least two that they could see. Could be more hiding nearby, hard to say."

"Have they made any sudden movements? Are they trying to hide?"

"If they are, they're doing a shit job of it. All we really know is that they're dressed like run-of-the-mill scavengers, and that so far they're keeping their distance."

He let out a sound somewhere between an exasperated groan and a sigh. Dealing with ambiguity was probably the most frustrating part of keeping a wary eye on the horizon. On the one hand, these could just be completely normal scavengers interested in not being snuck up on as much as anyone else. On the other, vampires could pull a few nasty tricks that made them look like the former group, in hopes that the unassuming appearances would get someone to let their guard down for even a moment.

Well, on the plus side… The way to deal with them remains the same.

"Leave them be, for now," he suggested. "If they want to approach, that's on them, but there's no point in going after any of them at the moment. We know where they are, they know where we are, so until they try to get the drop on us, we can live and let live."

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"Aren't you worried they might be vampires?"

"Wary of the possibility? Yes, absolutely. Worried, though… no."

"…You sure?"

"Mate, we have 3 dozen combat capable mages and a Devil on our side of the field. Normally, I'm not one to risk overconfidence, but if that wasn't enough to handle a few vamps, we'd all have become thralls long ago."

Martin grunted. "Point taken. Guess I'll let the boys know-"

A howl cut through the still night air. Not an uncommon occurrence in these parts, but one thing separated this particular call from the rest.

It was close. As in, at most a block or two away from them.

Martin cursed under his breath. "Of all the bloody times for those mutts to-"

"Easy, easy," Henry whispered placatingly. "We all know what to do in situations like these. Have everyone gather up, we don't have much time to pick a building to hide in."

With a nod and an about face from each of them, they set off to do just that. Though, not before Henry could take note of the impressively long string of insults Martin was putting together.

< -|- -|- >

"I'm telling you, man, they know we're here!"

"Would you shut up about that, already?! Of course they know we're here! They've got a brain, unlike you!"

A few dozen paces back, and currently huddled in an alleyway, two horribly bedraggled men in ill-fitting cloth scraps that could be loosely described as 'coats' argued with one another. Each of them carried a heavy, metal frame backpack that was almost bigger than they were, forcing them both into near-permanent hunches when not lying down or sitting, like the former, twitchier of the two was currently doing.

"I knew we should have gone up to the rooftops!", he complained. "But nooooo, you didn't want to throw your back out! All because-"

A heavy-handed slap pelted the whiner across the face.

"Be QUIET, already!", the other whisper-shouted. "There's a goddamn werewolf out there somewhere, so unless you want to offer yourself up as kibble, I'd highly recommend that you shut your bloody trap!"

The first man whimpered a bit, but nodded along and did as he was told. With an exasperated sigh, the apparent tactician between them lent a hand to his passive-aggressive companion, so that he could get back onto his feet while balancing the added weight over his shoulders.

"Look," he muttered. "Now's not the time to get greedy. We've already got two packs absolutely loaded with MREs, and the location of a supply crate that has enough left in it to have us making trips like this for the next two weeks, minimum. We have literally no reason to get involved in anyone else's business, conspicuous 30-man group or not. So long as we keep our heads down, we're set. Got it?"

Another sullen nod. Great. That meant he'd be getting the silent treatment for another day, at least.

He sighed again. "Come on," he motioned for the other to follow. "Let's find somewhere to wait this wolf out, then make our way straight back to Hackney."

< -|- -|- >

As the minutes dragged on, Henry finally managed to get a good look at the wolf prowling the streets.

God, they're even uglier up close…

The air was deathly silent as the beast plodded along with heavy, pavement-fracturing steps. This one, thank everything, appeared to be stalking around on its own. Constantly baring its teeth, slowly panning it's head back and forth as it padded along on all fours. For something almost as big as a sedan and with shoulders as wide as one, the creature nearly managed to move in a fashion he'd describe as graceful.

Not the grace of a ballet dancer, which relied on years upon years of refinement and practice to move fluidly. Here, there was a sense of instinctual purpose behind each motion. Seemingly relaxed, but acutely aware of exactly how much force to exert at any given time. This was the intuitive grace of a breed of creature that had achieved a pinnacle of existence. Be that physical or psychological, it was a visage that had rightly placed itself in the nightmares of survivors the city over.

To think that this particular wolf could be considered a runt, nowadays, was equally terrifying.

As imposing a figure as the werewolf was, it did indeed seem to be alone. Lone wolves typically came into existence when a member of a pack suffered a humiliating defeat of some sort, and got challenged by other, stronger wolves on their right to terrorize the streets alongside them. It was a process that typically exacted a toll on both parties in the form of injuries, but for the winner, that would never be an issue.

Winners healed and came back stronger. Losers had to suffer the indignity of limping away to punch down on something else until they could nurse themselves back to baseline.

So why didn't this particular lone wolf have any visible injuries…?

Has it been on it's own for a while now? Surely, some other, bigger wolf would have turned it into a chew toy long before this. But for it to be a recent development… Maybe it backed off from a fight? Can werewolves even be cowards to begin with?

Thinking up wild theories on the nearby danger was something that helped Henry not panic at the first sign of it, he found. He tended to keep a rough mental catalog of his observations as he travelled from settlement to settlement, swapping his rumors with those of other wanderers in hopes of someday, somehow, finding enough pieces of the puzzle to uncover the big picture.

It was a long, tedious process. But then again, they were in for an equally long, tedious night.

Henry pulled his head back down behind the drapes, satisfied with just courting death by being within a kilometer of a werewolf for now. All that could be done now, was wait. He hoped everyone else was getting used to it. There'd be plenty more of this happening as they made their way to Kensington.

I wonder what the over/under on how long our trip will take is…

He yawned, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb as the monotony began to really sink in. About time to look into setting up the watch, he figured.

Grabbing his shoes from where he'd laid them at his side, he stood. Walking around in socks was quieter than the sneakers were, and right now every decibel counted. Making a quick detour to rummage through the mound of packs, he pulled out the small handful of sticks that they'd taken to using to determine shifts each night.

It was a simple system. The sticks were all about the size of a pencil, but the lengths varied into three groups. Shortest was first watch, longest was third. Each person took a stick, and the last one went to the man who passed them around. So long as he didn't get a short stick tonight, he'd be happy.

As he finished digging through the pile of stuff, something else caught his attention. He stumbled upon the satchel his clone had been given for the scouting trip, the one that had the various odds and ends from the other side of the Shroud. If he remembered correct, Evelyn's keepsake was in there alongside everything else.

I never did get around to getting that thing charged again, did I…

Well, it was something to do once his shift rolled around. He grabbed the bag, then finished up handing out the duty roster for their impromptu campout. He ended up with one of the middle-length sticks. Not ideal, since he'd be getting two naps rather than a full sleep, but… he could live with it.

He grabbed some ratty cushions from one of the couches, and did his best to get comfortable on them. With any luck, the wolf would wander off before his shift even came. That would be nice, if it happened.

Slowly but surely, Henry drifted off into his dreams.

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