Becky POV:
I tried summoning the strange powers in me, but nothing. I screamed and stretched my hands, yet no claws, just emptiness. My throat ached as I screamed, stretching out my hands to the sky. Nothing. I was getting dizzy.
The giant wolf beside me whimpered low in its throat. I still didn't know what it was or who it was, only that it had saved me more than once. I had told myself I didn't like werewolves, the strange creatures in this city, that they were monsters, but this one… this one had thrown itself between me and death.
"Anybody out there help us?" I shouted, but no answer came. I remembered the old man hut where he treated me. Could he treat an injured wolf too? I pressed a trembling hand into the thick fur at its neck. "I'll save you," I whispered, though it couldn't answer me. My palm was sticky with its blood.
I tried to drag the wolf, but I was too weak. I didn't even know whether this werewolf was a girl or boy because I remembered how they changed at the banquet, but I had never seen the human form of this one. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that it lived.
Just then a beam of light shone through the room. It was a touch light. It was the old man and two men.
"Thank God you're both okay," he said with relief, and his eyes were sorrowful.
My voice choked with tears. I was relieved he had come to look for us. "Old man, please save this wolf. I don't know who it is, but it's saved me," I begged him as my legs finally gave up and I slumped to the ground still clutching the wolf fur like a lifeline…
I woke up to the smell of smoke and herbs. My body felt like I was resurrected from a battle; my leg throbbed under the tight bandages. My eyes darted everywhere looking for the black wolf. The old man's hut was dim and warm; he had brought out some charms. A soft breath drew my eyes to the far side of the room.
The wolf lay there, stretched out on a blanket with some herbs on its black fur. Its fur rose and fell unevenly, its fur damp where the old man had washed the blood away. His black eyes flickered open, fixing on me, staring intently, making me nervous under its gaze.
"You're alive," I whispered. My voice cracked. I pressed a hand over my bandaged thigh and tried to sit up. "We're both alive." I was excited; I wanted to stroke its fur. The old man shuffled over, handing me a steaming cup. "Drink. You lost a lot of blood." Although he had weirded me out the first time I saw him, he was a decent old man. I owe him one. I sipped obediently, then glanced back at the wolf. "Will he be okay?" I asked.
The old man's mouth tightened. "If the fever breaks. If the wound doesn't fester. He should be okay and maybe be able to go turn back to his human form."
"If," I repeated, my stomach twisting. I slid off the mat and limped across the floor, ignoring the pain in my leg. I sat down beside the wolf and brushed a hand over its head. Its fur was warm. The beast tensed, then exhaled, leaning into my touch.
Mother once told me monsters didn't feel pain, that they only lived to tear and kill. But the warmth beneath my palm, the tremor of his breath, didn't feel like a monster at all. It felt… human. Something inside me shifted as I traced the line of his jaw beneath the fur, a promise building in my chest that I couldn't yet name.
"You saved me again," I whispered. "I don't even know your name. Or if you're… male, female…" I gave a small laugh that came out watery. "Do you even have people somewhere? Someone who's looking for you?"
"Do you cause trouble just like me?" I teased playfully. I didn't understand why I felt so much pity for this werewolf, as if we were the same.
The wolf's ears twitched, but it didn't move.
"Don't you?" I pressed, stroking its neck. "A pack? Family?" The black eyes looked away. For some reason my heart clenched at the silence. "Then you're like me," I murmured. "Alone."
It had been four days now since that incident, and my leg was already getting better. The old man changed my bandages every day. I didn't bring up the matter of the curse since I hadn't seen Drey anywhere, but I was curious. I wanted to know why he abandoned me after saying I shouldn't leave this place.
My heart ached at the thought, but finding out more about my power and taking care of this wolf was my priority now, so I ignored other thoughts. I could hobble around the hut.
The wolf never shifted back to a human; it never spoke. But it began to follow me with its eyes whenever I moved. I fed it scraps of meat and broth from my bowl. I washed its fur with warm water and a cloth. It tolerated me, then started to nudge my hand with its nose, as if asking for more. I laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time in weeks.
Occasionally it would throw tantrums, not letting me get close to its fur. I would have to beg and appease it. This wolf acted so majestic, like a god, but I was fond of it, so I pampered it. "When are you going to show me yourself? I hope you are a boy so I can play with you like my cousin brother used to play with me," I said to it, but it looked away, not letting me touch its fur again. Such a tantrum from a big black wolf.
I started calling it "Blacky" because of the dark fur and its big black eye.
"Blacky," I said one evening, scratching behind its ears. "You're my wolf friend now." It laid its massive head in my lap and closed its eyes. For a moment, I forgot the blood and the claws and the fear. I just stroked its fur and felt its warmth against me.
Behind me, the old man's hands shook as he ground herbs. "The injection is blocking his shift," he muttered to himself. "Fourteen days… if he doesn't change back, he'll go berserk. Then he'll be burned alive so he doesn't reincarnate. That's the law." He shot a glance at me. I was humming softly, running my fingers through his fur, completely unaware of his pain.
His claws dug into the blanket as another spasm of pain rippled through his body. He couldn't tell me who he was. He was unable to warn me what was coming. Here he was snuggling closer to my touch, as if memorizing it before the darkness swallowed him.
"Don't worry," I whispered. "When my leg heals, you will take me to your people, and I'll beg them to take you in. You need a family; don't be like me." I soothed its fur Blacky opened its eyes and closed them back.
Later that night, when the old man shuffled out to fetch more wood, I heard a faint rustle outside the hut. My heart stuttered. Were they back for me again? I was scared. "Hello?" I called softly. No answer.
On the floor by the door lay a small, folded piece of paper that hadn't been there before. I picked it up with shaking fingers, wanting to know the content of the paper.
"Do you want to know who this wolf really is? If he doesn't return to human form within fourteen days, his kind will burn him alive. Come work for me if you want the antidote to the injection." The paper trembled in my hand. My eyes shot to Blacky, who was watching me from the corner, his dark eyes showing worry. A shiver ran through me as a dozen questions crowded my head at once.
In my mind I saw him as a man again, tall and unscarred, looking at me with gratitude. For a heartbeat I almost smiled at the thought of finding his people, of handing him back to a life he deserved. Then the words on the paper bled through that vision, cold and merciless, shattering it like glass.
Who had left this?
I crushed the paper in my fist until my nails pierced my palm, the pain jolting me. Whoever had left it was close enough to see us. Close enough to know.
Blacky let out a whimper before shifting to continue his sleep.
The words "burnt alive" echoed in my head like a curse. For a heartbeat I pictured flames licking at his dark fur, his eyes full of pain and betrayal as they dragged him away.
I swore silently, staring at the door.
No one would burn him. Not while I was still breathing.