27
The bright yellow school short bus trundled down the dark, winding rural highway, its halogen headlights cutting a fragile, bouncing cone of visibility through the thick, creeping autumn mist. Inside the cramped, vinyl-scented cabin, the chaotic, overwhelming energy of the regional Jamboree had finally burned itself out, replaced by the heavy, synchronized breathing of exhausted youth.
The twelve werewolf pups of Troop 442 were slumped against the cracked leatherette seats