Time of the Russian Wolf

Wolfen gets remade in Russia, albeit with real events and CCTV footage.

The full-bore pack.  Taking the lanes, terrifying cops (and upsetting the procedure of law: one wonders whether or not he wrote the ticket he was going to after this) yet with an utter indifference to them as they barrel down the freeway right past the car.

On their way to take the city, or loping through its parking lots, helping themselves to the bought goods dropped at the sight of the mangy crew.  If  the metropolis broadens its circuits, and the city is no longer a city, then so too the woods broaden right back, blurred zones and charging along its paved surfaces, ready to swallow those who try to record the new breadth and its panting breaths.

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