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Curtis was a California man. He grew up on the border where snow was more of an idea than a reality. He saw it in movies and in photos which painted a winter wonderland in the full grown man's mind. He expected to be able to comfortably walk around, boots crunching with snow falling around like petals. Perhaps some places were like that. Siberia was not.

"Fuck!" Curtis said the first thing that came to mind when the train doors opened and he was assaulted by a true winter. He felt like his eyeballs were instantly covered in a film of ice.

Emery didn't even notice. He brushed past Curtis and walked right onto the wooden platform with Jerome close behind him. The squire was shivering, but not complaining. He bundled up in his scarf and thick coat and that was it.

Curtis muttered a few things about staying in California for the rest of his life and he too went onto the platform.

There weren't many people getting off the train, but plenty getting on. If Emery wasn't almost a foot taller than everyone else, Curtis would have lost him as they headed towards the back of the train to where the cargo was being offloaded.

"Where's everyone going?" Curtis asked once he had forced his way through the crowd. He had elbowed a few people, stepped on some toes and tried to apologize, but everyone here spoke Russian.

"Away," Curtis said. He watched as a few workers opened the back of the last rain car. The wheels on the large, red, wooden door squealed from both ice and lack of oil. It made Emery wince.

"Why?" The workers hopped onto the train, disappearing behind the wall.

"The government has declared an area nearby as dangerous." Emery could hear the workers inside the car. They were confused and slightly frightened. It seemed that they found the special cargo. "They were making announcements on the ride over. Didn't clarify what the danger was and that's warning enough for most."

The workers got off the train and were talking to each other worriedly.

"Wait here," Emery told Curtis. He walked forward to the workers who stopped at the sight of the large man.

Curtis watched with interest as they held a conversation in perfectly fluent Russian. He didn't understand a single word. All he did know was that if the conversation was written out, there would be a backwards 'R' in there somewhere.

Emery pointed at the train car and the workers shook their heads. They didn't want to go back in there. Emery sighed and walked into the car. Shortly afterwards, he came out, carrying a large wooden box on his shoulders. The workers were astonished since the crate was marked at several hundred kilograms.

Emery, with a grunt for emphasis, set the crate down carefully. He decline a crowbar from one of the workers and instead, he tore off the lid, nails and all, with his bare hands.

The workers stood back, talking amongst themselves until Emery shooed them away. Once they were gone, in a single bound, Hadrian jumped out of the box.

The massive dog turned to Emery and gave a low growl.

"Sorry for putting you in there," Emery apologized and placed the lid back on the box. "But you couldn't exactly ride coach. He had explained that simply coming this far out was strange enough for westerners to do, but adding a giant dog into the mix was just asking for trouble from local authorities and no one else needed to know what was going on.

Hadrian ignored the apology. It had been a twelve hour train ride in the box. He didn't want to think about the size of the turd he had to carefully push into the corner away from him. That and the fact that the largest box they could find was still too small. Hadrian had aches where he didn't know it was possible to ache.

Curtis came up to his partner who lightens up a bit when the area behind his ear was given a good scratch.

"How're you doing?" Curtis asked between clattering teeth. He had been worrying the entire train ride. The cargo cars weren't insulated or heated and the second it had started snowing on the ride over, there was the thought that Hadrian's fur wouldn't be enough even though the dog's fur was closer to polar bear fur than canine fur.

Hadrian nuzzled Curtis' side, pressing his nose to where the man kept his tablet.

"Oh, right!" Curtis pulled the tablet off of its belt holder and turned it on. The screen lit up and then a flurry of messages came pouring in.

Let me out!

Why is this box so small. I can't stretch.

I feel like cattle.

What's that noise? Is the train derailing?

Are you ignoring me?

Curtis had turned off the tablet to save power. He had told Hadrian this, but the dog had been too busy arguing with Emery about the box to have heard him.

More and more messages came in and the longer it went, the more vulgar they became.

The last message finally came in after three whole minutes of notifications.

I should call the ASPCA. If only I had thumbs.

"I'm so sorry." Curtis wrapped his arms around Hadrian's thick neck. The ASPCA should be called. He had nothing to make sure that Hadrian was taken care of. He had spent so long treating Hadrian like another person, insisting that others did the same as well and all of that work had been lost at the insistence of Emery. He should have done more and he felt terrible for not.

Hadrian didn't blame Curtis. He blamed Emery. The man had taken them from their comfortable life and dragged them across the world for a reason he refused to explain. That on top of the smell.

Hadrian couldn't put his nose on it, no matter how good it was supposed to be, but Emery's scent was off. There was a sharpness to it, an air of danger and aggression that made Hadrian want to tuck tail. It wasn't the same scent of a criminal that was insane with no fear of death, it was worse than that. Emery had secrets and Hadrian didn't trust those secrets.

Curtis laughed when he got a forgiving lick from Hadrian. The human didn't see that Hadrian and Emery were glaring at each other.

Emery knew that the dog suspected him. He never explained that the Knight's Templar had Lycans or that he was a Lycan as well. There was no need to divulge too much too fast. Hadrian hadn't proven himself as trustworthy enough to know such things. For the time being he was a weapon for the Catholic Church. An instrument of God to be used against threats. Emery had no illusions that everyone wasn't a tool of God. He didn't raise himself above that notion, but Emery did know that he was a honed blade while Hadrian could end up just being too brittle or soft. Then there was Curtis.

There was no way to get the two separated for long. That was an issue. Curtis was a liability. Emery could already see that Curtis would complicate things in the future. The man was just an ordinary human with no special skills. He would be killed if he were ever put anywhere near the kinds of dangers that Emery suspected were coming. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Hadrian's effectiveness in the field was directly connected to Curtis' well being.

Emery made a mental not to keep Curtis safe. As much as Hadrian didn't trust him, Emery wanted to match Hadrian's best interests with the Order's.

"Sir." Jerome walked up to the Marshall. He put away a notebook he had been scribbling on, placing it in is front breasted pocket. "I just got off the phone with one of Reiss' people. They're waiting for us just outside the front of the station."

And so they were. They didn't look like Templars at first sight, but having a bunch of armed and armored soldiers in front of the train station wasn't prudent.

Instead there was a woman in a leather jacket with a fur cap along with several other men waiting outside with their collection of eastern European cars.

"Welcome to Russia, the coldest place in hell," The woman said and spit out a tooth pick from the corner of her mouth. "Reiss apologizes for not coming to meet you himself, but the situation wouldn't allow him to leave his post."

"Hello again." Emery recognized her as the woman that was behind the anti material rifle when he and Jerome had been nearly killed on the side of an Alpine mountain. "I don't think we ever had the opportunity to thank you." He shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

The woman's face remained expressionless. "We are all brothers here, Marshall." She then turned the nearest vehicle. It was short and stocky with black smoke coming from the exhaust. The man by the vehicle opened the door for her. She put one foot in. "The rest are waiting for us farther east." She slipped into the passenger seat.

"So much for hellos," Jerome said off handedly and then picked up both his and Emery's luggage. Emery had his own bag. It had his armor in it and was too heavy for his squire to lift.

Who was that? Hadrian asked.

Curtis gave a look at his tablet and then shrugged before asking Emery the same question.

"That is Turcopolier Reiss, second in command, Under-Marshal Riven." Emery didn't say anything else and Curtis didn't ask.

The group was split up with Emery and Jerome to one car and then Curtis and Hadrian to another. Curtis and Hadrian ended up in a truck since Hadrian's advanced size made it impossible for him to fit in the smaller and barely functioning cars.

From there, the small convoy headed eastward and deeper into Siberia.

Those two have a strained relationship. Hadrian sent the message as he sat in the rear of the truck while Curtis and the lone drive, a stone faced man in a blue beanie, sat up front.

"What do you mean?" Curtis fished the tablet off of his belt. He had some trouble because his fingers were slightly numb at the tips. He held up his hands and the tablet to the barely functional heaters that felt life a midget was on the other side, breathing through the vents.

When they were talking, the smell in the air changed. Hadrian explained what he had experienced moments before. Normally Emery smells of pine, testosterone and shadow.

"That makes no sense." Curtis cocked his head at his partner. "How can someone smell like a shadow?"

It's hard to explain. The dog snorted and rested his head on his paws. He looked back and Curtis who was leaning over the center console, steadily shivering. Hadrian could hear the man's teeth. Can I continue?

"Sorry," Curtis blushed and gave a quick glance over at the driver. The man in the blue beanie hadn't moved except to turn the wheel or shift gears which caused the vehicle to hop. These vehicles really were barely holding together.

Hadrian continued. When those two were together, the smell changed. It was more like those little chalk heart candies. That and Sriracha.

"Yikes. You don't think that they have... you know? History?"

The driver laughed which caught both of his passengers off guard. "History is a polite way of saying it." He spoke with a thick Italian accent. "Those two used to be engaged." He kept on laughing.

"Then what happened between them?"

The driver was about to say more, but quickly sobered up. "It's. It's not my place to say any more." He turned the wheel of the car, having to fight the vehicle since it had no power steering. "Anyways. We're here."

Curtis turned and looked back out the front windshield.

The other vehicles were pulling up into what could have been a parking lot of the next train station, but it wasn't that any more. There were bonfires going, massive ones that were twenty feet high. The blood from Curtis's already cold and pale face drained. He could see, very clearly see, bodies in the fire. Hundreds of bodies in a dozen bonfires.

Curtis turned to Hadrian and gulped. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"