Outside, the wind howls like a chorus of wolves, but I know it’s just the forest. At least, I hope it is.
------------------------------------------------------
Man's POV:
The clearing is empty now, save for the faint imprint of boots and paw prints in the snow. I linger for a moment, watching the spot where they stood, my companion and the outsider. She was so close, closer than I ever thought she’d get, yet she didn’t understand. Not yet.
The wolf circles back to me, his silver coat glinting faintly in the moonlight. He sits by my side, his tail brushing the ground like an impatient drum. I rest a hand on his head, feeling the warmth of his fur against my cold fingers. "She’s not ready," I murmur, my voice low and measured.
The wolf growls softly, a sound that holds no malice, only frustration. I know how he feels. We’ve been waiting for someone like her for so long. Too long. But she didn’t see it—the signs, the door. She saw only fear. Only me.
I glance toward the distant trees where she disappeared, the path she took barely visible now under the snowfall. She’s running from something she doesn’t even understand yet. But she’ll be back. They always come back. Curiosity is a powerful thing, even more so when it’s tangled with fate.
"Do you think she’ll make it?" I ask, not expecting an answer. The wolf lifts his head, ears flicking toward the trees as if he hears something I can’t. I’ve learned to trust his instincts, but even he can’t predict what she’ll do next. She’s unpredictable, wild in her own way. That’s what makes her different—and dangerous.
I step forward, my boots crunching softly against the snow. The oak looms behind me, its ancient branches creaking in the wind like a whispered warning. The door is still there, hidden beneath a thin layer of frost and ice. I could close it, seal it away again like I’ve done so many times before. It would be safer for her if I did. Safer for all of us.
But I don’t move to shut it. Instead, I kneel by the base of the tree, brushing away the snow to reveal the carvings etched into the wood. They glow faintly under my touch, like embers buried deep in ash. This place is older than I am, older than most things in these woods. It has its own will, its own purpose. And it’s chosen her.
The wolf whines softly beside me, nudging my shoulder with his nose. "I know," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "We don’t have much time."
The storm is coming—I can feel it in the air, in the way the forest shifts uneasily around us. If she doesn’t return soon, the choice will be made for her. And if she chooses wrong...
I stand, brushing the frost from my cloak. “Let’s go,” I tell the wolf, turning away from the clearing. He follows me without hesitation, his paw prints lining up perfectly beside mine.
As we disappear into the shadows of the forest, I cast one last glance over my shoulder, toward the place where she stood, where the door still waits.
“Don’t make me come find you,” I mutter under my breath, knowing full well she can’t hear me. “Because I will.”
------------------------------------------------------
Ein's POV:
The cabin feels smaller than usual tonight. The fire crackles in the stone hearth, casting long, flickering shadows against the wooden walls. Jax is slouched on the worn couch, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, flipping a knife in his hand like he’s bored out of his mind. Ryder, on the other hand, is pacing. He’s always pacing. His boots scrape against the floorboards, back and forth, back and forth, like he can’t stand the thought of standing still.
And me? I lean against the window frame, arms crossed, watching the snow swirl outside. The storm’s getting worse, the wind howling through the trees like a warning. My reflection stares back at me in the glass, sharp and tired. I’ve been out in the cold too long.
“They shouldn’t be out there,” Ryder snaps, breaking the silence for the hundredth time. His voice is sharp, his frustration bleeding through every word. “Not in this weather. What the hell were they thinking?”
I glance over my shoulder at him. “You think yelling about it is gonna bring them back?”
He stops mid-step, narrowing his eyes at me. “You were out there. Did you even try to stop them?”
I meet his glare with a calm one of my own. Ryder’s always quick to anger, quick to blame, but I’ve learned not to rise to it. “They weren’t going to listen,” I say evenly. “You know that as well as I do.”
“Doesn’t mean you just let them wander off!” he fires back, his voice rising.
“They needed air,” Jax cuts in, his voice lazy but firm. He spins the knife one last time before tucking it into the sheath at his side. “Can’t blame them for wanting to get out. This place’ll drive anyone mad if you’re stuck in it long enough.”
Ryder lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Air? You think this is about them needing air? They’re reckless, Jax. They don’t get it. They don’t—”
“They’re stronger than you think,” I interrupt, my voice cutting through his tirade. I don’t raise it, but it’s enough to make him stop and look at me. “You don’t give them enough credit.”
Ryder stares at me, his jaw tight, like he wants to argue. But he doesn’t. He just lets out a frustrated breath and turns away, running a hand through his hair.
“They’re not like us, Ein,” he mutters, softer now. “They don’t know what’s out there.”
“They’re learning,” I say. “And they’ve got instincts. Better ones than you think.”
Jax chuckles from the couch. “You two really gotta work on your communication skills. I feel like I’m stuck in a soap opera over here.”
Ryder shoots him a glare, but Jax just smirks, unfazed as usual.
I push away from the window, walking toward the fire. The warmth feels good against my cold hands, but it doesn’t ease the knot in my chest. They’re out there, somewhere, and the storm’s only getting worse. I don’t like it.
“They’ll be back,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.
Ryder glances at me, his expression hard to read. “And if they’re not?”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Because if they’re not back soon, I already know what I’ll do.
Word count: 1109
