Page 14 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

“Alright, chaos gremlins,” I shout, hands on hips. “Gather ‘round! It’s Team Challenge Day, baby!”

Group C gathers at the edge of the woods. They’re hyped. I made sure of that. Told ‘em they were in for the most epic obstacle course this camp’s ever seen—and yes, I used the wordepic. These kids eat that stuff up like it's cereal.

Nolan’s standing next to me, all nerves and wide eyes. He’s got a little clipboard Alice let him borrow—only his has doodles of fireballs in the margins and a sticky note that says “Commander Nolan.”

He looks up at me. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“Not just sure,” I say, leaning down with a grin. “I’d bet my next steak on it.”

Nolan blinks. “You eat steaks?”

“Like most people eat air.”

He grins.

I clap a hand on his shoulder. “You run this. You tell ‘em how it’s done. You’re the boss.”

Nolan bites his lip. “What if they laugh?”

“They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

I grin. “Then you make ‘em eat their words—with extra glitter glue.”

That gets a full-on snort from him.

The kids line up. Nolan steps forward, clipboard shaking a little in his hands.

“Um,” he says, voice wobbly at first. “Welcome to the first annual... Dragon Gauntlet. You have to finish as a team. If you don’t help each other, you lose. There’s no winner unless you all make it to the end.”

Some of the kids groan. “Lame!” one of the older ones mutters.

“Shush,” another says. “This is cool.”

I grin.

Nolan takes a deep breath. “First challenge—get over the log wall without touching the red tape. If you touch the tape, you start over.”

And they’re off.

At first, it’s a mess.

A beautiful, chaotic mess.

Tommy the tiefling tries to vault the wall solo and falls flat on his butt. Nolan winces, but doesn’t flinch. He calls out, “You need to use the stump for a boost. You can’t do it alone!”

Tommy scowls, then grudgingly accepts help from a younger goblin kid with three arms.

The second challenge is the rope tunnel. I made it from old camping netting and probably too much enthusiasm. One girl gets her antlers stuck. Nolan’s already crawling in after her, gently showing her how to twist sideways to make it through.

“Nice work, Commander,” I call from the sidelines.

He beams.

We move through the gauntlet like that—kids scrambling, cheering, occasionally screaming in harmless panic. Every time something goes sideways, Nolan’s the first to step in. Calm. Focused. It’s like someone flipped a switch inside him overnight.

I stand there watching him boss around a twelve-year-old troll and my chest does this weird thing.

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