Call on a Distant Pack

Chapter 8: The Omen in Feathers

The night was chillier than normal; the air was heavy in an uncomfortable quiet. Evelyn gazed at the mirror across the room from her bed. She was sitting behind it.

She looked back normal once more: only her grey skin, broad eyes, and frizzy hair. Still, she haunted the image of the wolf flickering in her place just minutes before.

Half hoping it would feel different—thicker, rougher, more like fur—she stroked a hand across her skin. Still, she was merely human. Or was she actually? Trying to make sense of what had happened, her thoughts spun. It all seemed related—the locket, the fight she overheard between her aunt and the strange man, the shimmering wolf eyes outside her window.

Like jigsaw pieces that refused to connect. She sat up at the sight of an unexpected rustling outside. She stopped to take a breath. It came again—a mild flapping sound followed by a small thump.

Evelyn hesitated for a moment before gently rising from off the bed. The floorboards groaned under her weight as she made for the window, her pulse fast. She opened the curtain. She let out a gasp. On the windowsill rested a crow, its feathers glossy black but matted with blood. Its beady, nearly knowing eyes looked straight at her, one of its wings folding at a painful angle.

Crows represented many things—death, mystery, fate. She knew enough local stories to realize that much. This one, though, felt different. It seemed essential. The crow's body shook and gave out a faint caw. Evelyn opened the window by snapping forward to grip the latch.

The frigid air rushed in and shivered down her back. She scooped the wounded bird into her gentle hands, being careful to pay no attention to the sticky warmth of the blood.

She thought it would be difficult. To scratch or peck her in terror.

Still, it did not. Alternatively, its small chest rose and fell in irregular gasps.

"It's all right," Evelyn whispered, yanking a spare blanket from her bed and tucking it carefully around the crow. "I won't harm you." The bird fluttered gently as if grasping something.

Her belly knotted up.

She had to perform anything.

But who would she be able to reach out to? She could not simply stroll into a veterinarian’s office and say, Hey, I believe this bird is some sort of portent. Furthermore, I could be growing into a wolf.

Not at all. She would have to manage this alone.

She had an abrupt thought.

The woods. Something within her said she must deliver the crow.

Evelyn slipped out of her room, keeping the bird close and making sure she made no noise. Past her aunt's closed door, she crept down the corridor. Apart from the far-distant ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs, the house was quiet.

As she arrived at the back door, her pulse raced. She paused before heading outside.

The night was strangely quiet. Their boughs bending like bony fingers, the trees loomed like shadows far off. The smell of musty ground permeated the air, mixing with something else—something... wild.

Evelyn's hold on the crow stiffened shut.

She inhaled deeply and began heading toward the trees.

Every stage seemed more weighty than the last. Her surroundings seemed to become more silent and gloomy. Help me, she said. The wind had even ceased passing through the trees, whispering. She then sensed it.

a presence. Watching.

She came to a sudden stop, her throat catching in her breath. Gradually, she rotated her head.

She saw nothing at first—only vast forests and shadows extending into the far distance.

Then—eyes.

Bright, golden eyes in the underbrush fixed on her. One might guess a wolf here.

Evelyn stopped. It was huge; its fur melded elegantly with the night. But those gazes... they were the ones she had seen in the looking glass. Her ribs stiffened.

Is this actually true? Or was she descending further toward whatever secret surrounded her was unraveling? The crow croaked faintly and stirred in her hands. The wolf raised its ears.

More eyes then emerged from the black. She was not by herself.

Instinctively, Evelyn's intuition yelled at her to run. Her senses might come alive, but her body wouldn't stir.

Its gaze always on hers, the biggest wolf advanced. It turned its head a bit as if observing her.

Then, unannounced, a guttural growl low in volume.

The sound ran anxiety down Evelyn's body via a flash. She wheeled around on her heel and darted.

As she ran through the woods, her breath came in jagged gasps, and she tore her flesh with branches. Fresh terror raced down her bloodstream at the sound of slamming paws behind her. They were pursuing her. Flapping feebly in her grip, the crow let out a loud shriek. Her lungs ached, and Evelyn pushed forward. She saw a clearing, an aperture among the trees, off ahead.

Should she simply manage to reach there, her foot got caught by a root. She fell rather heavily, losing her breath from the force.

The crow landed a few feet from her fingers as it fell off.

“No—” she gasps, running toward it.

But first, she pulled up to it—

In front of her, a big paw crashed into the soil.

Evelyn's neck snapped upright.

There the wolf was, straddling above her, its breath warm on her flesh. Its golden eyes stared brazenly into hers, old and intelligent.

She couldn't flee from it.

Couldn't breathe.

Finally, the crow moved.

Its beak let out an odd, guttural sound, almost like a whisper. Its fractured wing quivered… Then it mended right before Evelyn.

Feathers smoothed, bones creaked back into place.

The crow was still standing strong here. The wolf's dark eyes fixed upon it.

Then it released a shrill, bone-chilling caw.

The noise cut through the night as a shock wave does. The wolf recoiled, teeth bared, murmuring. The others were reluctant. And then, in an instant—

They had left, vanishing into the shadows like ghosts.

Evelyn sat there, chest heaving, heart slamming against her ribs.

The crow turned to her, its gaze sharp, expectant.

A warning.

A message.

Then, with a final, haunting cry—

It took off into the night, disappearing into the darkness. Evelyn stared after it, her body trembling. The wolves. The mirror. The crow. Everything was connected. And whatever was happening to her—it was only the beginning.