Exfiltration

Well. The blame for this one is quite clear. It was something of a collaboration atwixt me and Rauda Redjay. I was telling her of the idea for the tale, and she made a suggestion, and I proceeded to go 'YOINK! MINE!'...  at which point she went 'H'okay.' And it kinda grew from there...
Anyway. This tale is mine. That means it belongs to me. Which in turn means that I hold the Copyrights. I, Jared Gamaliel Juckiewicz, BSc. Which I am reliably assured stands for Bloody Stupid critter. I would resent that remark, were it not for the evidence I was supplied with.
Anyway. Valkyrien. Wouldst probably be rated NR-17, for Nudity, Graphic Violence, and Mature Subject Matter, the latter referring to Cannibalism. And, Hel, all the violence is applied to those already dead.

One final note, Afore We Begin. When he mentions the Devourer, Gorm is talking about Fenris, the great wolf. And a deity/demigod/thing with which a Werewolf would likely feel at least some kinship. Especially a Norse Werewolf.

ANYWAY... I Digress...

And Now! Presenting. Gorm Ulfsbluut! Vixen Kitsune! Tyrone Ui Neall! Boruma Ui Neall! Hugin Ravenwing! Dead Chechen A! Dead Chechen B! And Naked Girl!

Roll Tape!

Well. That hurt. It's dark. But rapidly getting brighter. And it hurts. A lot. Flaming lances stuck in everywhere. I think. I may have been shot. A bit. Or possibly a lot. And stabbed. Repeatedly. Groan. Right. Take Stock. Still can't see. Hearing. Not much. Sounds of a forest. To be expected, seeing as I was in one. Smell. Forest. Funnily enough. Gasoline fumes. Truck. Dead bodies. Live Wolf. Female Wolf. Young Female Wolf. Not in season, Devourer be praised. That would end badly. Seems there's a weight on my chest. Ah, look. I can see again.
To the right. Forest. To the left. Forest. Dead Bodies, times two. Truck parts. On my chest. Female. Naked, Still breathing, Female. Human. Looking. Sniff. Sniff. Yup, Wolfsblooded. Shit. Vixen will not be happy. And I can't yet roll her off... Perhaps I should relate how I find myself in this situation. Well. We launched an attack on a Chechen staging point. It turned out to be an ambush. They were tormenting the lass who appears to be lying atop me. The scent of it was meant to drie me into a rage. It worked. From that point on, I remember a reddish blur. And then a thud on the back of my head. And then blackness. The truck she was in must have rolled... And speaking of trucks, I can hear one coming now. Glad I shifted back when I was knocked out. Now to lie like I'm dead. Not overly difficult that, especially seeing as I kinda wish I was...
And... It's stopping. Not good. There are people coming closer. Need to be loose. Gnnnrrgh...
There. Free at last sort of. Now to roll over... There. And to my knees...
And head up...
And... Shit... I'd ruther prefer the Chechens...
See, that redhead limping towards me? The hot one with her camo fatigues ripped and torn, and her arms and legs studded with bullet holes? The one growling and baring her teeth?
Well. That's Vixen. She's what you humans would call my girlfriend. Or possibly my betrothed. We wilder folk settle for the term 'Mate'. And it is definitely a Monogamous relationship...
But. Before I can consider how to respond to whatever she has to say to me, I need to do something about this pain and hunger. And Oh. Look. Dead Bodies... Drag. Crawl. Pain. Drag. Crawl. Pain. And. Problem...
See, I'm used to having claws for this bit. Fingernails won't cut it. And I won't be able to change in this state. So. Glance around. There. Knife in his boot sheath. Slide it out. I won't manage the ribs, so, there, bottom of the diaphragm. Knife in. Two-handed grip, slicing open the belly. Something that bleeds, to speed the healing. Arm in. Rummage. Spleen. That'll do. Wolf it down, grimacing against the taste. Different tastes when human than when wolf. More. A Kidney. Both. The Liver. I can almost think straight again. I can feel the pain easing away. Still there, still excruciating, but... of less import. I can hear her footsteps behind me. I have a few seconds yet. I rummage about, up under the ribs. My fist closes on what I am searching for. I tear it out, and turn, still on my knees. Staring up at Vixen's face, presenting her with the heart. "Hearts are romantic, No?" I hear myself ask. And then "I can explain. Everything." She grins, and drops to her knees as well. She leans in towards, me, pressing my hands, with their prize, to my mouth. We both bite in, tasting the raw flesh, the still warm blood. As she leans back and swallows, I stare at her, wondering how she will respond. This at least, is a good sign. She speaks. "I trust you. I will want an explanation. But it can wait." She drags me to my feet, throws my arm over her shoulder. "Lean on me." She half drags, half carries me to the back of the truck, and rolls me into the bed. I look at the others there, even as Tyrone and Boruma, themselves both heavily mangled, heave the lass into the back beside me. There are so few of them left. Vixen see's the question in my eyes, and nods.
It's all my fault, for my weakness, the weakness of the wolf within. She see's my pain and drags herself up beside me. Holding me tight. Tyrone too, drags himself in, to slump, his back against Hugin's side, as Boruma climbs into the truck and it starts up again.
"We're done here." He tells me. "We're pulling out, if we can."