LITMIR.BIZ

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It was uncomfortable to hold him in his hands with his claws. Nero took it between his teeth, but immediately threw it away.

      – Well, to hell with you. I’m worried about both of you! And for the success of the business. And you and the net shooters are going to Wolf Mountain? Well done!

      The comrades made no objection. Ersus sat closer to the fire and looked at the flame. Pontius scratched his leg with his claws.

      Looking at the Werewolves by the fire and making sure they were busy with their packing, Marianne crept up to the outermost of the snowmobiles, pulled the hood. He gave way, revealing the inner tie rods and a small plastic reservoir. Marianne didn’t know if it was for oil or fuel, but the idea of throwing snow at him seemed great. Marianne slowly unscrewed the lid of the tank, holding the hood with his other hand (the sharp smell of gasoline hit his nose), then threw a handful of snow inside, scooped up more with his palm.

      “Melting snow will disable the snowmobile”

      Marianne was sure of it. At least I hoped very much. Footsteps were heard. They headed straight for the awning. Marianne, in a panic, somehow attached the tank lid, quickly pulled his hand and returned the hood to its place. The footsteps stopped.

      – What is it? Nero asked sharply. – Do you smell it?

      Marianne backed away, cuddling as low as possible to the snow.

      The werewolves must have sniffed. There was silence. Marianne quietly crawled further and further, then turned behind a tree and froze.

      – Gasoline, – said Ersus.

      Nero appeared under the awning, froze by the snowmobile.

      – Yeah, gasoline. Nero examined the snowmobile, throwing the hood open with a crash. – Who didn’t screw the lid down to the end? She can barely hold on. Hence the smell.

      Ersus and Pontius exchanged glances. Ersus shrugged his shoulders.

      – This is your scooter. You know best, “Pontius replied.

      – Is the tank leaking? – asked Ersus.

      – No, the tank is all right. The lid is barely screwed on. Nero walked over to the other snowmobile and removed the canister from the trunk.

      – Just in case, I’ll refuel. No, though. The tank is almost full. Nero looked at the fuel gauge. There was a dull sound. Marianne tried not to breathe and listened to what the oolki were doing. They could smell it, but now the smell of gasoline spread in the air like a sickening curtain. Nero fiddled with the snowmobile for another minute, then pushed it out from under the shed. I inserted my gun into a special cover located under the steering wheel.

      Now, in the vacant space formed under the canopy, the tree behind which Marianne was hiding was perfectly visible.

      Marianne waited for the Werewolves to talk about something again, and quickly climbed up the tree.

      From a height of five meters, he looked down, tried to make out the werewolves. Two by the fire. One is missing. Nero has gone somewhere.

      – You will jerk, you will run behind on a leash, – heard Marianne a disgusting voice.

      – Why are you messing with her? Let the blood out. Or let me do it.

      Nero was near Junia.

      “It won’t hurt her.

      – Just let out a little blood. Liter. And she will be as submissive as your backpack. Will lie unconscious for another week.

      While Nero led Junia to his snowmobile, the remaining two Werewolves extinguished the fire, threw their net shooters behind their backs and now silently watched Nero. Ersus and Pontius went hunting light.

      They covered their snowmobiles and some other things under a canopy, secured with a metal cable around the tree trunk.

      Ersus was carried away by brushing his fangs with his claw, when a quiet, drawn-out howl reached them.

      – Are you still here? – threw in their direction Nero. – Run! The hunt has begun.

      Pontius lifted his nose as if trying to smell a howling brother.

      – I will contact you on the radio, okay?

      “Yes,” Pontius nodded. He patted himself on the pocket.

      – Come back quickly, – admonished Ersus.

      The engine whined and Nero, without looking at his friends, drove away. Ersus and Pontius ran in the opposite direction. Where the howl called.

      Chapter 8. Trap

      Marianne did not immediately dare to get down from the tree. A minute later, Marianne began to panic from inaction. The sound of a snowmobile engine roared far beyond the trees. It grew quieter all around. Nero drove further and further with Junia.

      And Marianne made up his mind. He almost fell off the branch, so he hurried down. Once again he froze for a second, when he was on the ground, he listened – silence reigned around the warehouse under the canopy. An idea came up, and he began hastily to search for something that would surely destroy the Wolves’ caches.

      Marianne found the canister, unscrewed the lid, and doused both remaining snowmobiles with gasoline.

      “Blink, I need your help,” he whispered.

      The mouse crawled out of his pocket and sat on his sleeve. She clearly did not like the smell of gasoline – she spread her mustache and turned her muzzle to the side. Marianne brought a branch to Mignis. The mouse jumped at her, a bright spark shot up in the air and slowly flowed down the branch. First, a small drop, like red dew. Then two, three crimson drops appeared. A second later, the branch was engulfed in a strong flame. Mignis, not fearing to burn herself, walked through the fire, as if appreciating the work, and returned to her sleeve.

      Marianne unclenched his fingers and stepped back. The flames roared over the gasoline.

      A yellow glow spread over the snow and rose to the stars. The flames quickly consumed the snowmobiles and the canopy, spreading to nearby trees. Heat and acrid fire hit my face.

      One thing is done. The second is left.

      Marianne started to run. How soon will the werewolves smell the smoke, understand what happened, and guess who did it? Perhaps they are already very far from here. In support of this thought, a wolf howl flooded over the forest. The werewolf that issued it was far away. Marianne thought it was Pontius howling.

      How much time has he lost? Snowmobile sound cannot be heard. So Nero had gone very far. The hope of saving Junia was dwindling before our eyes. Marianne tried to run even faster. He stumbled and sank knee-deep in snow, but he could not keep up with Nero’s snowmobile. He decided at all costs to follow in the footsteps of Nero. “We’ll see if it’s too late or there is still a chance to save Juniya.”

      Marianne didn’t run as much as he thought when he saw a snowmobile tilting in a snowdrift. Junia, bound, lay a little further away. But the main character was absent in this picture. Nero. Marianne woke up from the numbness that seized him and clung to the nearest tree, instinctively hiding. Then he looked around the trees. The figure in white camouflage is nowhere to be seen.

      But he’s here. Marianne knew it, he was sure. How long ago did the snowmobile stop? Where did Nero go and why? Marianne took a few more steps and froze, trying to make out the footprints of the boots in the snow, to catch them on the blanket around the snowmobile and the bound Junia. Marianne’s eyesight was excellent. The metamorphosis of transformation also affected the eyes.

      From the nose of the snowmobile, there were ten steps ahead and that was all. Further, the trail was hidden behind a snowy canvas.

      There were only tracks on the snowmobile itself. It looks like Nero got off the ground and walked up to the nose of the snowmobile. To the right, to the left, he did not leave. There were no tracks. Then where did Nero go?

      Did

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