Feran Wolfpaw – Part 3


Feran Wolfpaw


Feran looked out of the open door of the chopper at the sea below. They were heading west, away from the islands.

“Where are you taking me?” Feran asked.

“Resettlement Facility.”

“A what?”

The officer that addressed him was seated in front of Feran and looked back over his shoulder, bemused.

“Resettlement Facility,” he repeated. Feran’s blank stare persisted, so the officer continued. “The Resettlement Treaty?” he asked, testing Feran. Feran slowly shook his head. The officer smirked and turned back toward the front. “Boy, are you in for a surprise!” he said.

Feran didn’t ask any more questions. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers. Instead he watched the sea slip swiftly by beneath them. A pod of dolphins arched freely out of the water and dove back beneath the surface. The setting sun glistened off their backs in gold and orange.

The helicopter flew about another 10 minutes and then set down on a helipad on a patrol boat. Feran was led to a hold by two officers and stuffed in a cramped cage alongside several other identical cages, some of them occupied.

“Another one for the kennel,” one of the officers said. The other officer looked down the line of cages to the end. “I know that’s where we’re taking the furry ones, but what are we going to do with the lizard?” Feran didn’t like the glint in the officer’s eye.

“That one gets shipped to Orlando. They set up a herpetarium for those there kind.” He pointed to the cage on the end.

The occupants of the cages were quiet until the officers left. When they were gone, Feran broke the silence.

“Feran Wolfpaw,” he said, introducing himself and trying to sound cheerful.

“Who cares,” the occupant of the cage next to him replied.

Feran’s ears pricked up. “Well, I do for one,” he said.


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