Theophilus POV

It was almost as if this warren of tunnels did not know about the pandemonium above. Stone hallways continued on, turning this way and that, with some small corridors ill-lit by an infrequent torch. Every step was muffled, with its echo ringing off cold, wet walls. The air was heavy with damp earth, and there wafted through it an undertone of smoke from far-off impromptu kitchens scattered through the labyrinth beneath the ground. Those shelters were much more than safety; they were our lifeline in this infinite war—a tenuous refuge against the pounding attacks of the Southern Pack.

My wife, Moana, followed with practised stealth behind me. Her...