Hans sat on the ground inside the smithy. His head pounded. Jutta crouched before him in her human form.

He tried to recall what had happened. Jutta had kicked him. He’d seen her sharp, dun-colored hoof coming at him, and it felt like slow motion until the moment of impact. And then the world was spinning fast. All around, so many angry humans. And then there was a hand on his ruff, huge and unyielding. And then the clank of a metal collar being fastened tight around his wolf neck, and Jutta’s face close to his. “Do everything I tell you to do,” she’d said, “and your sister will be fine. Just listen to me and I’ll keep you both safe.”

Once they reached the smithy, she’d pulled Hans’s chain tight and hooked it to the wall. And then she’d dressed herself.

He hurt all over. His head, his chest, where his wound had started bleeding again. He kept his wolf ears pricked, not that it would matter. He was good and trapped. The chain was short enough that he couldn’t even lie down. He could stand or he could sit.

He didn’t know whether he should believe Jutta. But she hadn’t killed him yet and she certainly could have. Still, he didn’t trust her. For all he knew, she was saving him for Albrecht’s benefit. She’d always done everything Albrecht wanted.

So what did Albrecht want now? To make Greta happy by keeping Hans alive? To hold Hans hostage so that he could make Greta do whatever he desired? Was Albrecht going to cut him open, as he’d once said he would?

That seemed the most likely. Albrecht had already shot him in front of Greta, so it seemed unthinkable he’d prize her happiness now. What’s more, Albrecht had always wanted to understand what made a were shift. Hans knew this, and he’d rather die than suffer that. He looked at Jutta with pleading eyes.

Then he took his human form. Perhaps she had some conscience left. “Please, Jutta. Please.”

She scraped blood and hair from her fingernails, looking anywhere but at his face.

As Hans slumped against the smithy wall, the scent of Albrecht returned like a nightmare, and worse, it came mixed with his sister’s blood.

Hans became the wolf again.

“Thank you, Jutta,” Albrecht said, entering the smithy. “I’ve been looking everywhere for my very, very bad dog.”

Jutta wiped her hands on her tunic. “Are you all right? That’s a lot of blood.”

“It isn’t mine,” Albrecht said.

It was Greta’s. And there was so much of it. A growl rose in him, one he could feel from his claws to his skull.

“Should we start with him?” Albrecht asked Jutta.

“Start?”

He made an exasperated sound. “We’ve talked about this.”

“But do we even need the metal men? You and I know the truth. There is no frisser army in the forest. There are a few dozen people, many of whom are children. It would be better to let him return to the woods, perhaps without his tail. Let him serve as a warning to anyone who would challenge you. If you kill him, they might seek revenge.”

Albrecht laughed. “It seems to me a corpse would speak more eloquently.”

Jutta said nothing, but Hans could smell her fear, bitter and earthy. No doubt, she could smell his too.

She relented. “I see the wisdom in your words.”

Albrecht grabbed Hans’s muzzle, turning it from side to side. “How do you do it, boy? Is there something inside you I can put inside my clockwork men? Let’s find out, shall we? A sharp knife, a table by the window—”

He did not finish his sentence. Behind him, a roar. Paws beating stones. And then Ursula was on top of Albrecht, his shoulders pinned. Hans had never fully appreciated the size of her paws; they were nearly twice as large as Sabine’s, which had always made his own feel small.

The great brown bear opened her mouth and roared again, loud enough to tear the sky. Albrecht struggled and Jutta became her mare self, stamping and whinnying.

Ursula raked a paw across her brother’s face. He screamed and rolled over, pressing his hands to it. There was so much blood that Hans had to look away. Ursula rose to her hind legs, her head knocking the ceiling of the smithy. Jutta skittered back, and her tail knocked a metal key with a glass eyeball onto the ground.

Ursula rushed her, and Jutta jumped sideways, crashing into a table cluttered with tools.

Then Ursula batted the key toward Hans. He took his human form, snatched it, and unlocked the collar around his neck. Shedding the weight of his chains, he took his wolf form once more.

“My face! My face!” Albrecht’s screams rang the metal in the workshop. Ursula returned to him, pacing. The tips of her claws were red with his blood, and Hans expected at any moment for her to finish her brother off. He was crying, keening, holding his face.

Hans could see the rage in her, rippling down her neck and back. He’d felt that himself just before he tore the windpipe out of Albrecht’s horse. He braced himself.

The killing moment did not come. Instead she looked at Hans, and he knew what she was saying with her eyes. He is my brother.

She turned to the castle. He followed. Even if Jutta came after them, she’d be hard-pressed to catch up. Fast as she was, bears and wolves were faster.

More likely, she’d tend to the king’s injuries. Ursula had cut him to the bone, flaying his cheeks, nose, and lips. If there was any chance for peace between brother and sister, it surely had vanished. He was surprised that she hadn’t killed him. But he was relieved for her. However cruel Albrecht was, he was her brother. Some part of her must have loved him still. He understood. He would love his sister, always.

And now he and Ursula would save her.

As they entered the courtyard, the music of the forest changed. It grew louder, angrier, more desperate. Hans’s heart rolled. Something had happened. Something terrible. He ran faster through the night.

The air around them hissed and clattered. Ursula stood on her hind legs, batting away arrows raining down on them. She looked over her shoulder at him.

Back to the woods.

He did not wish to go. But he knew that they had no choice.