To that, Samo could only shrug. Who was he to judge the name of a place? If the people who lived there wished to call it so, that was their choice. Unless someone came and made a different choice for them. And as Samo soon discovered, that was precisely what was about to happen.

The words were not harshly spoken, yet they struck Samo all the same. Rome. Of course. The tall, confident stance of the wolf before him, the familiarity of his voice--he had to be a Roman citizen, even cloaked in these blue-gray furs. Not only that but a legionary, in all likelihood, and in a moment all of Samo's calm dissipated. He lowered his body in lupine submission, head bowed and tail tucked, even as it filled him with disgust. Disgust for Rome, for the legions, for--

Disgust for himself, most of all. Boy.

Yes, Dominus, Samo answered, fighting to get the words out of his suddenly too-narrow throat.

He could still flee. But he would still be a runaway, he realized. Samo was not free. He would never be free.