"Okay," Jameson assented with a squeak, one he didn't realize he would answer Claude with.
The Epsilons, however, didn't take any. Who knew what kind of trap waited for them, hidden deep within the flesh of the enemy? They would just heal the way they knew best.
…
Claude led the wolves past the forest and onto the shore. It was the same place where they camped before. As they arrived, Claude caught some Gammas arranging for RVs for everyone to sleep in. However, he spotted a small picnic area, as if it were a place for them to claim food. Verena inspected the packed foods, while a werewolf lay around in his wolf form. An old man sat on one of the foldable beach chairs, eating a packed clubhouse.
Instead of excitedly greeting his grandpa, Claude stared at the wolf lying on the sand. His tail swayed as if conducting an orchestra. However, Claude could time it to be in the rhythm of the sloshing waves.
