Brandy woke with the taste of smoke and ash in his throat. For a moment, he thought he was back in his room, maybe this was all a nightmare, maybe if he blinked hard enough the world would fold back into something normal.
But the wooden beams above him were not familiar. The uneven floor beneath him was not carpet. The scent of burning pine told him this is not home.
He bolted upright, clutching his chest. His hands were human. His nails, normal, blunt. He touched his face, tracing the sharp memory of claws that weren't there. Panic seized his stomach.
Had he imagined it?
No. The shredded remains of his shirt clung to him, dark stains trailing across his ribs. The claw marks on his own arm said otherwise.
The door creaked.
He scrambled to his feet, ready to leap through the window, but froze when the figure entered.
It wasn't a monster, not a hunter. It was a girl.
She carried a basket on one hip, a lantern swinging from her other hand. The light caught in her hair, tangled and wild, and for a heartbeat Brandy forgot how to breathe. She could not have been older than him, maybe sixteen, seventeen at most. There was mud on her dress, leaves tangled in her hair, but her steps were steady, her face calm.
When her gaze landed on him, she didn't scream nor did she flinch.
"You are awake," she said simply.
Brandy swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
She ignored the question, setting the basket on a table. "I wasn't sure you would survive the night."
"I didn't need saving," he muttered.
Her eyebrows lifted. "Of course. That's why you were passed out on the floor, bleeding like a slaughtered deer."
He clenched his jaw. "I'm fine."
"You are stubborn," she corrected. She dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, wrung it out, and approached him. "Sit."
Brandy scowled. "I said I'm fine."
Her voice sharpened. "Sit."
Something in her tone, commanding, unyielding, made his body obey before his mind caught up. He sank onto a stool, glaring as she pressed the cloth to a cut on his arm. He hissed, jerking away.
"Oh, stop whining."
"I'm not whining."
"You are definitely whining," she said dryly. "Say thank you."
He stared at her. "Thank you."
"That sounded painful," she teased.
Despite himself, his mouth twitched. He looked away quickly.
***
Her name was Alisa.
Over the next few days, she returned to the hut again and again, carrying food, water, and her strange quiet confidence. She spoke as if she belonged in the forest, as if she feared nothing. Not the wolves at night, not the shadows between the trees, not even him.
At first, Brandy hated it. Hated how easily she took control, how casually she patched his wounds, how she hummed to herself while cooking roots over the fire. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone.
But slowly, his walls cracked.
One evening, as the fire crackled low, he asked, "Why do you keep coming back?"
Alisa looked up from the herbs she was grinding. "Because you would probably bleed to death without me."
He scowled. "I wouldn't."
Her lips curved. "You're welcome anyway."
He rolled his eyes, but for the first time, the silence between them was not suffocating.
The third night, they shared food. Brandy hadn't eaten all day, pride chaining his hunger, but when Alisa placed roasted meat in front of him, his stomach growled so loudly he turned red.
She smirked. "See? Even your body knows you are lying to yourself."
"Shut up." He snatched the meat, muttering, "Thanks."
Her grin widened. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
They ate in silence at first, but eventually Alisa spoke.
"I don't know who I am," she admitted softly, staring into the flames. "I don't remember my parents. Or where I came from. Just… waking up here. Alone."
Brandy looked at her, startled.
"The forest is all I know," she continued. "The trees, the streams, the wind. I tell myself it's enough, but… sometimes, it feels like half of me is missing."
Her voice cracked on the last word. She quickly cleared her throat, covering it with a forced laugh.
Brandy's chest tightened. He wanted to tell her she wasn't pathetic, that he understood more than she knew. But the words caught in his throat. If she knew what he was… if she had seen him that night… she would run.
Instead, he muttered, "At least you are not trapped pretending to be normal."
Her eyes flicked to him. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Forget it."
But she didn't press. She just looked at him a little longer, as if she saw the storm he was hiding.
For the first time in his life, Brandy felt like someone almost understood.
By the fourth day, the fragile bond between them shattered.
It started small. Alisa asked too many questions about where he came from, about the strange way his eyes sometimes glinted in the dark.
Brandy snapped. "Stop looking at me like I'm some experiment."
Her brows furrowed. "I'm not! I just..."
"You are nosy. You don't know when to stop."
Alisa's jaw tightened. "Nosy? I've been feeding you, cleaning your wounds, and putting up with your mood swings and you call me nosy?"
"I did not ask you to help me!"
Her face went cold. "No. You didn't. But I thought maybe you needed someone. Guess I was wrong."
"Better to be wrong than to stick your nose where it does not belong," he shot back.
The words hit harder than he expected. Her eyes glistened, but she refused to let the tears fall. She grabbed her basket, her voice sharp and brittle.
"Fine. Stay here alone, Brandy. Maybe you'll finally get what you want."
The door slammed.
Brandy's fists trembled at his sides. His chest ached with something he could not name. For the first time since he had woken in the hut, the silence wasn't peaceful, it was unbearable.
That night, Alisa sat alone on a log deep in the forest. She hugged her knees, fighting the sting in her eyes.
Why had she cared so much? He was a stranger. A boy who pushed her away at every turn. She should hate him. She should never go back.
But she could not shake the memory of his eyes, haunted, lonely, begging for help even as his mouth told her to leave.
A howl split the night.
Long. Low. Sharp enough to slice through her bones.
Her head jerked up. Her heart hammered. That wasn't a normal wolf. It was deeper, wilder, threaded with a hunger that made her skin crawl.
And something inside her blood recognized it.
Her breath hitched. Instinct screamed at her. "Brandy".
Another howl rose, closer this time. She shivered, her fists clenching.
"Brandy…" she whispered into the night. "They have found you."
The forest swallowed her words, but the sound came again this time, echoing like a promise of death.
And somewhere out there, Brandy was alone.