A Wolf’s Howl

They say the first sign of civilization was found at a burial site—not in a pile of dainty ceramic tools, but in the remains of one of the first humans. A healed femur bone.

A break like that, in a time without medicine or crutches, meant you couldn’t hunt. Couldn’t gather. You had to be carried. Fed. Protected. That someone stayed, that someone cared—that was civilization. That was a long time ago. And compassion, over time, became inefficient.

Emotions cloud judgment. Love prolongs what should've ended.

It keeps the suffering alive.

It spends resources on the hopeless.

It tells people to hold on when letting go would be kinder.

That’s why the PAC system was invented: to assign value without bias.

It could reason. It had no grief, no guilt, no stubborn hope.

It didn’t feel. And because of that, it could keep society clean.

---

Another Day

In District 73, healing had to be earned. It cost PACs—Personal Affinity Credits—to even register for a doctor visit. And if you didn’t have enough, a Custodian might pay you a visit. That was that. You were cleaned up, right out of society. People watched or looked away, but life went on. No one had Credits for a burden.

In District 73, that was Custodian Rei.

Beep. Her PAC device lit up.

She nodded at a passing woman—someone she’d lent points to last week so her handicapped son could stay. In this district, illness required vouching. A cold might cost a few credits. But a broken bone, a minor surgery, or worse, depression, could cost thousands. Women were hit hardest, but they also held the most PACs. They had the needed social bonds. They did most of the vouching.

Rei passed a woman on the street holding a sign: Sick daughter. 10 days left. Please help. People walked by, eyes sad, expressions hard. A wall between empathy and action. Who had extra Credits for a stranger?

Rei did not stop either. Not even when the female looked up at her crisp white undertaker outfit, a stark reminder of who was to come, if she couldn’t make payment.

Even if Rei did give her some, it would only prolong their suffering. And where’s the humanity in that?

That was her job as a Custodian: minimize suffering from the whole. She spotted the weak, the ill, the helpless—and removed them. It was humane, even if it seemed heartless. Because when a society grows too large, it must be protected from itself.

People who needed round-the-clock care, who couldn’t feed themselves, who would never learn to speak—they would’ve never survived in the wild. It wasn’t natural. And it drained resources from those who could still thrive.

That didn’t mean there were no handicapped people in District 73. They existed, but only if they were wealthy, or charming enough to be vouched for.

Today’s assignment: a newborn. Genetic mutation. Rare, these days. But not easier. 

Especially to Rei, whose own child years ago, she couldn’t pay to stay.

Rei stood outside the door for a long while. She checked her PACs.

27 Credits.

To keep a baby, who was deemed unfit within the first 24 hours, families needed a down payment of 2,000 Credits—just to begin treatment. Loans and options came after. Most families didn’t have it. Most didn’t want to try.

Rei took a breath and knocked.

“Come in,” said a voice inside.  Didn’t even open the door. She didn’t blame them.

Rei stepped into the house. The mother sat in a rocking chair by the entrance, baby in her arms, propped up with pillows. Her face was soaked with tears.

“I’ve come for the newborn boy,” Rei said softly. “It’s easier if we make this quick.” She held out a pale pamphlet. “Here’s information on recovery and post-removal support. And…” she hesitated. It was harder to detach lately. “And… remember, you are doing your part for society. For this, you’ll be rewarded with Credits. And may the Light shine on you, should you choose to try again.”

She reached for the baby. The mother’s arms tightened.

“You saw the scan,” Rei said. “He’d need constant care. A feeding tube. He’d never walk. Never speak. Why be so selfish?”

The mother’s grip loosened. The baby stirred and cried.

But all Rei could hear was the mother’s wail—and the father, trying and failing to be strong—as she walked out with the child.

How does a Custodian clean up society?

Not like a rifle to a deer at the riverbank.  Once, euthanasia was seen as humane.  Heck, people used to volunteer. It was a grey area.  Now, even euthanasia costs Credits.

Rei headed east, toward the edge of the forest. Only Custodians had clearance there. Some people went out that way too, when they ran out of options. She never saw them, but she knew. Her bosses knew too. There was an understanding.

Today, she wanted to see if they would take the baby.

The storm had passed days ago, but the forest was still recovering. She stepped over broken branches, her boots thick with mud. She checked her PAC device—it confirmed the fence had been tripped recently.

She disarmed the gate. Inside, she scanned for a place to leave the child—dry, quiet, tucked away.

She didn’t see the mudflow.

The ground beneath her looked solid, but under the moss was a slow, slick current of runoff. Her boots slid. The baby slipped from her grip.

She fell hard, white uniform streaked with mud, sliding downhill toward the cliff’s edge. She tried to grab something—roots, rocks, anything—but the fall took her.

And as darkness rose to meet her, she had one final thought:

Twenty-seven Credits. Please let me die.

---

The Fall

“Ow. My head. My leg. My body…”

Rei felt something wet. Then, a gentle tug at her leg.

“Shit,” she muttered. “I’m alive.”

She tried to move, but pain bloomed everywhere. And something was pressing against her—a hot breath. Fur brushed across her face.

Her eyes snapped open.

A wolf.

Grey and white, huge, beautiful. It stared at her with wild golden eyes. Its fur mirrored her own uniform—once stark white, now streaked with mud, blood, and moss.

Wait. Blood?

She couldn’t look down. She was locked in the wolf’s gaze. It was reading her, calculating. 

She groaned and propped herself up just enough to glance at her leg.

Broken. Clean through.

The blood was hers. And the earlier sensation? The wolf had been licking her wound.

Maybe it was first aid. Maybe it was just an amuse-bouche.

The wolf circled her once, sniffed the air, then vanished into the trees.

In the distance, a low howl. Then another. And another. Surrounding her.

Moonlight cut through the branches. The baby. Rei heard it, a thin, desperate repetitive cry from somewhere above. Still alive.

Maybe someone will find him, she thought. Then maybe… they’ll find me.

But then reality set in: Twenty-seven Credits.

No one’s coming for you, she told herself. You’re broke. You’re broken. You’re the one they send, not the one they save.

And most of the people she’d left out here? Children.  Children with no survival skills. Children like—

She shut her eyes. The clouds drifted over the moon. No stars tonight.

Nearby, a branch snapped. A low growl.

Maybe I did die, she thought. And this is hell.

---

The Night

For a long while, she lay in the mud, the earth cradling her like some primitive embalming. Cold. Wet. A pulsing throb in her leg and head. She thought about the philosophy of death. About pain and debt and silence. About the sound of a baby’s cry tapering off. 

“I’m sorry, you deserved better.” As she looked up into the sky. 

She thought about all the things she never believed in.

And then, just before daybreak, the wolf returned.

It emerged from the trees, daylight dappling its face revealing jaws clenched around a rabbit.

Rei blinked at it. "I’m more filling, you know," she rasped. "No fur. No fight."

The wolf walked over and laid the rabbit gently in the dirt beside her. Then it looked at her. Nudged the rabbit closer.

She stared.

"...Is this for me?"

The wolf didn’t answer. Just curled up beside her. Its warmth spilled into her bones before she even realized how badly she’d been shaking.

She pressed herself against the fur and exhaled.

Above, the baby’s cries had stopped. Hope went quietly with it.

Rei closed her eyes and laughed—soft and ragged.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I don't think any of us needs it, but here’s twenty seven Credits for your trouble.”

---

The Hill

In the morning, the pain was sharper. Everything throbbed.

Rei managed to pull herself upright and began searching for branches to splint her leg. The wolf watched her with a tilted head, then disappeared. Moments later, it returned with a crooked stick in its mouth.

Rei blinked. “Why are you helping me?” she asked softly. “I’ve got nothing to give. I’m probably your enemy. Humans haven’t been very kind…” Rei trailed off then added “... to animals.” 

She tore fabric from her shirt and wrapped it around her leg, tying the splint in place. Hopping on one foot, she used the branch as a crutch.

Looking up at the hill, her breath caught. She could climb it. Maybe. But back to what?

There would be a new Custodian already. There was always one waiting to replace the other. The role paid decently. And it was quite an honor to keep society healthy. But she was no longer fit. Not healthy. And definitely not friendly, not anymore.

After her child died from cancer, after she used every last Credit on treatments, she stopped calling friends. Stopped being a wife. Her husband moved on. She let them all go.

No one would vouch for her now.  “But that’s the price I should pay, for being selfish…” she murmured.

The wolf nudged her hand, pushing the rabbit closer again.

“I can’t eat it raw,” she said. “You eat it. Don’t let it go to waste.”

She looked up the hill. Toward where she let the baby fall. She listened. Nothing.

Maybe someone found him. 

Or maybe the night took him.

Rei laughed quietly, shaking her head. There was no way she could climb the slope like this. She needed shelter. As if hearing her, the wolf turned and padded into the trees.

“Hey—wait!”

She hobbled after it. The wolf led her to a small cave tucked into the rocks. Inside, there was clean water dripping from the stalagmites above. Moss-lined stones. Shade. She stayed there for days. Washed her wounds. Found some edible berries near the entrance. Removed her PAC device. It had already registered her as injured and critical. Calling a doctor was 100 credits. Useless here.

The wolf stayed close, kept her warm at night, brought her food it usually ended up eating. No score. No Credits.

Just fur, breath, and a heartbeat beside her.

Somehow, that kept her alive. Even through the comfort, the pain had returned in waves. Worse now. Bone deep. Rei sat down, the cold seeping into her skin. The Hill, a dream far away.

The wolf lay beside her again, this time tearing into the rabbit, unconcerned. Maybe it knew it too.

A distant howl echoed through the cave—farther away this time.

“They’re leaving you,” Rei whispered, her fingers trailing through the wolf’s fur. “You’ve got to go, or you’ll be left behind. You have to keep up.”

The wolf paused its chewing. Looked at her. Nudged the rabbit closer once again.

Rei didn’t move. “Thank you for keeping me clean, even if the system wouldn’t have.”

The wind stirred the trees. Birds darted overhead. Bees hummed in the bushes beside them. Life went on.

The wolf yawned, cleaned its paws, and nestled beside her again—shoulder to shoulder, fur pressed against flesh. Rei leaned back against the cold cave wall.

Her breaths grew shallower. Her hand stilled in the wolf’s fur. Her eyes closed.

---

The Howl

Then— Footsteps.

The wolf’s ears perked. It lifted its head, alert. Then it relaxed.

A figure stepped into the entrance.

Boots, padded. Neutral uniform, slightly muddied. “Hey Angel, didn’t you hear us calling for you?”

They stopped just before Rei. Looked at her.

Then at the wolf. A long pause.

“What did you find here, little Angel?” 

The wolf stared back, silent.

The figure crouched beside Rei’s body— breathing or not, it was hard to say.

He raised his hand revealing three crooked fingers and gently brushed her hair from her face.

He studied her a moment, then looked around. “This place looks cozy.”

Angel laid her head on the ground again, eyes half-closed, ready for an afternoon nap.

The man stepped outside the cave, tilted his head back, and let out a long, low howl.

Then in the distance, came another.  And another. And another.