THE WOLF’S CURSE

Chapter 9

Alec

The trail narrows as I push deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around me like silent sentinels. My backpack feels heavier with every step, the straps digging into my shoulders, but I keep moving, my eyes fixed on the path ahead. The summit is close—maybe twenty minutes away—and the thought of finally reaching it fills me with a mix of relief and dread.

I’ve been thinking about Dad all morning, his voice echoing in my head like a ghost.

“The forest is alive, Alec,” he’d say, his eyes lighting up as he told me stories about the places he’d hiked. “It’s got its own rhythm, its own heartbeat. You just have to listen.”

I’ve been listening, but all I hear is the rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The forest feels different today, heavier, darker, like it’s holding its breath.

I’m so lost in thought that I almost don’t see her.

She steps out from behind a tree, her movements fluid and silent, and I stop dead in my tracks. It’s her—the woman from the stream. She’s still completely naked, her tanned skin glowing faintly in the dappled sunlight. Her dark hair hangs in wild waves around her shoulders, and her eyes are glowing yellow, just like in my dream. They’re fixed on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

I freeze, my mind scrambling to process what I’m seeing. My first instinct is to look away, to give her some semblance of privacy, but she doesn’t seem bothered by her nudity. In fact, she stands there as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, her body tense and ready to bolt.

“You,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t respond at first, her gaze flickering between me and something behind me. Her body is tense, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and I can see the fear in her eyes.

“Go back,” she says suddenly, her voice low and urgent. “Don’t continue.”

I blink, startled by the sound of her voice. It’s soft but with an edge that sends a shiver down my spine.

“What?” I say, taking a cautious step closer. “Why? What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, her eyes darting to the trees behind me again. “Go back,” she repeats, her voice rising slightly. “It’s not safe.”

I frown, my mind racing. Is she hurt? Lost? What’s she so afraid of?

“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping my eyes locked on hers, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. “Do you need help? Are you hurt?”

She glares at me, her jaw tightening, and for a moment, I wonder if she even understands English. But then she speaks again, her voice sharp and impatient.

“You don’t understand,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “You need to leave. Now.”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, her head snaps to the side, her body stiffening like she’s heard something. Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back, her gaze darting between me and the trees.

“What is it?” I ask, my heart pounding. “What’s out there?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns and bolts, disappearing into the trees with a speed that’s almost inhuman.

“Wait!” I call after her, but she’s gone, the forest swallowing her up as if she were never there.

I stand there for a moment, frozen, my mind racing. What the hell just happened? Who is she? And what is she so afraid of?

I glance around the clearing, my eyes scanning the trees, but there’s nothing there—no movement, no sound, just the endless expanse of green and brown.

The forest feels heavier now, the air thick with tension, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and glance down at my backpack. The Tupperware container with Dad’s ashes is tucked inside, a constant reminder of why I’m here.

“What would you do, Dad?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

But there’s no answer, just the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the faint hum of the wind.

I shake my head, slinging the backpack over my shoulders, and start down the trail again. The summit is close, and I’m not turning back now.

My body is tense, every muscle coiled like a spring, and my mind is racing, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. The woman—who is she? Why did she seem so scared? And why the hell was she naked? None of it makes sense, and the more I think about it, the more unsettled I feel.

This place, this forest, it’s almost terrifying in a way now. The trees loom taller, their branches twisted and gnarled like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. The air feels heavier, thicker, like it’s pressing down on me, and the silence… the silence is deafening.

I glance up at the trees as I walk, my eyes scanning the canopy. Even the birds have gone silent here, as if they know something I don’t. It’s unnerving, the way the forest seems to hold its breath, waiting for something.

I keep moving, my boots crunching over the dirt, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness. My heart is pounding, my palms slick with sweat, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

I’m doing this for Dad.

The thought anchors me, pulling me back from the edge of panic. This trip, this journey—it’s not just about scattering his ashes. It’s about honoring him, about proving to myself that I can do this, that I can face the wild and come out stronger on the other side.

But the deeper I go, the more I feel like I’m losing control, like the forest is testing me, pushing me to see how much I can take.

Who was that woman? Why is she out here? Naked. What the hell is going on?

The questions loop in my mind like a broken record, each one more unsettling than the last. I can’t shake the image of her—her wild, dark hair, her glowing yellow eyes, the way she moved with a grace that felt almost… unnatural. And the way she looked at me, like she was trying to warn me, to protect me from something.

But from what?

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see her standing there, watching me from the shadows. But there’s nothing—just the trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, and the endless expanse of green and brown.

The forest feels different now, heavier, darker, like it’s closing in around me. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, but there’s something else too, something sharp and primal that sets my nerves on edge.

What the hell is going on in this place?