They arrived at the protest site a short time later, possibly around midnight, judging by the position of the nearly full moon. They stopped together behind a line of redwood cedars halfway up a mountainside that allowed them a good view of the site. There was a single light on inside one of the trailers, and by that dim light, and the light of the moon, the pack was able to make out details in the darkness. A lone logger stood guard by the road with a shotgun resting across his folded arms. Obviously Willie’s warning that “bad things might happen” had put the company on the alert for some sort of vandalism against Conservco.

That suited the pack just fine.

Noble studied the scene for a while longer, then changed his shape just enough to make himself understood. “Harlan,” he said, in a low, gravelly voice. “You need to distract the guard.”

Harlan let out a soft growl of understanding.

“Lead him away from the site,” Noble continued. “Take him into the woods. Scare him a bit if you have to, just give us a few minutes alone at the site.”

Harlan raised and lowered his head and was off, bounding through the woods toward the guard.

Noble turned to Argus and Tora, and said, “This is what we’re going to do…”

* * *

By the time Harlan reached the road, the guard was sitting on a stump with the shotgun across his lap and his head cradled in his hands. He was small for a logger, his work boots and plaid jacket both looking two sizes too big for him. He had a long mullet that curled its way down past his shoulders. Obviously the man had been on duty most of the night, because his eyes were closed and—Harlan listened closely—he seemed to be sound asleep, snoring. If that was the case, it might have been possible for the pack to run quietly through the camp and do whatever it was Noble had in mind, but Harlan knew that if Noble had a plan, it would be a good one, especially if he needed the guard to be out of the picture.

Harlan made his way onto the campsite and hid behind one of the trucks while he figured out the best way to get the man’s attention. If he was too loud he’d wake the others, but too quiet and he might not draw the man away from his post. Harlan considered the problem for a few moments, then changed into his human form so he could speak without difficulty.

“Hey Buddy!” he whispered.

The guard did not stir.

“Buddy!” he repeated, this time much louder.

“Huh? Hey!” The man snorted as he awoke. The shotgun shifted in his arms and he juggled it a moment before regaining his grip. “Who’s there?”