Wolf walked through the wasteland that used to be the downtown. Like an ancient willow the city looked healthy from the outside, but its heart decayed. Wolf felt eyes on his back. He didn't slow his pace or turn his head, but his ears sorted out the sounds around him. Three sets of footsteps paralleled his course. They were uneven, uncertain; no risk to him.
Wolf came to a spot where the road widened. People scurried away from him. He stopped and turned around. He spotted two of his followers immediately, young and nervous, hands on their guns. Dangerous because they might make a mistake and squeeze a trigger a little too tightly. Wolf held his empty hands away from his side and waited. The boys relaxed and let their hands move away from their weapons. The footsteps of the last one stopp
