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Bly scowls. "Duties to the pack? Most of the jobs we work directly benefit the humans. You think Razor's metalworking shop is producing goods for us to use? We're slaves, Klel, and when I decided to stop acting like one, every brainwashed zombie here thought I was the crazy one. Well, maybe I am. Maybe everything's perfect. Can we just watch the play in silence please?"

As you settle in to watch the performance, you're soon riveted by the way in which the Sheep Eaters' story mirrors your pack's history and your people as a whole.

The native humans were a subset of the Shoshone tribe, named for their practice of migrating along with their primary food source, the bighorn sheep. The Sheep Eaters had been mocked by the men who displaced them from their home, and fantastical tales were spun about them, even by Yellowstone's own rangers. They'd been called pygmies and renegades, and when that wasn't enough to dehumanize them, they'd been labeled feeble-minded as well.

It's no secret that this is what many of the humans think of werewolves, at least in a post-Purge world. The few pieces of media allowed into Haven through the military censors have portrayed werewolves as mindless savages, best locked away or disposed of. The elders assure you that not all humans think this way about your people, but it's a hard thing to let go of sometimes.

When the curtain closes and an intermission is announced, most of the wolves get up from their chairs and wander outside to stretch their legs. You stand up from your chair, massaging a kink in your back, waiting for the show to resume.

Within a few minutes the doors reopen, and new seats are chosen and slightly rearranged. If you want to talk to someone else for the second half of the performance, now would be the best time to get to know them better.