Lost As Wolves

The Human Nature

Claire approached the Carters’ house with slow, measured steps. A bad feeling had settled in her gut the moment Olivia invited her over. The last time she saw them, Olivia had been on edge, and Marcus had barely spoken. Now, they sounded different—happier, lighter.

Olivia answered the door.

In Black Hollow, grief aged people much faster than normal. At Claire’s last visit, Olivia and Marcus had looked like the grandparents of Ethan. Now they looked like his siblings.

The house had also lost its dreary atmosphere. It smelled of cedar and something musky, something animalistic. The moment Olivia opened the door, Claire knew. She heard the panting before she saw it.

A wolf sat at Olivia’s feet.

It was sleek, grey-furred, and obedient, with mismatched eyes that held the wild depth Claire had grown accustomed to. It did not growl or bare its teeth. It only sat there. Its gaze unnervingly vacant.

"What do you think?" Olivia beamed, scratching behind the wolf’s ear. "We finally got one."

Marcus stood behind her, arms crossed, looking at Claire carefully. His expression was unreadable.

"Where did you get it?" Claire asked, her throat dry.

"A breeder. Not the same one as yours, I assume?" Olivia knelt beside the wolf and lifted its muzzle. "He’s perfect, isn’t he? Trained already. No trouble at all."

Perfect. Claire hated that word.

"He seems… tame." Claire crouched slightly, extending a hand. The wolf sniffed her fingers but showed no other reaction. Too calm. Too still.

"That’s the point, isn’t it?" Marcus finally spoke. "Not everyone can handle…the paranormal you have at home."

Claire stiffened. They knew. Somehow, they knew about hers. Claire wondered if he would have dared to call Werejoy paranormal if it were here. Breathing next to her.

Before she could act on her rising temperament, Olivia changed the subject. "You should get another one. If you're having problems, you can start fresh."

The idea latched onto Claire’s mind like a parasite. Another wolf. A controlled one. A second chance. But the more she thought about it, the more wrong it felt.

Still, the seed of the idea had been planted. Maybe they could even help out. Madam Vespera didn’t need to know about this one.

Claire could experiment with this new one. She could see how human it could get.

Maybe as human, it could reveal certain things. Maybe it could help find the children. Find Ethan. Maybe she could learn the reason why Madam Vespera was bent on keeping the wolves as wolves.

A thought flashes that the wolves could be the missing children.

Could they be? Claire wonders.

“Claire?” Olivia calls. “Come see what Marcus has been sculpting.”

The Carters were already walking into their hallway.

Claire?

Claire tries to recall how Werejoy had said her name. It was not easy to recall. The voice kept overlapping with Olivia’s.

When Claire managed to sink into her mind, the voice returns. Before Madam Vespera ‘treated’ Werejoy, the voice was that of a young woman. Someone in the age bracket as her. A child couldn’t have spoken with such depth in tone.

Claire wasn’t certain. But it was irrational to think otherwise.

The sculpture that Marcus was working on was one of Ethan.

The Carters had gone mad.

***

In Black Hollow, strange things happened. But only strange if you were from the outside world. Utensils had their own agency. Clothes could refuse to be worn. But the matter of speaking wolves was strange for all.

On the radio, wolves that had been reported to be like Werejoy were a matter of concern. Madam Vespera’s name came up twice. She was going to get it fixed.

No, altered was the exact word they had used.

***

Desperation made people foolish.

Claire found the contact of a breeder through an encrypted message board—someone who promised a real wolf, not the broken shells sold by typical breeders. Someone who could give her what she wanted.

She met them in the outskirts of Black Hollow, where the air always felt heavier. The man was tall, wrapped in a tattered cloak that hid most of his features.

"You want a true one?" he asked, voice like crushed gravel.

"Yes. One that isn't…altered."

"Then you must offer something real in return."

Claire’s hesitation lasted only a moment. She transferred the funds. Every last credit.

The man smiled.

And then he vanished.

Not walked away.

Not ran.

Vanished. Like a shadow swallowed by darkness.

Claire stood there, hands trembling, the realization hitting her like a punch to the ribs.

She had been scammed.

***

Holt opened the door with a frown.

Claire was wild-eyed, hair dishevelled, still shaking from the encounter. He barely had time to speak before she launched into her story—about the Carters, about the scam, about how she had lost everything.

And then, she said it.

"I needed another wolf."

Holt stiffened. His expression darkened. "No."

"Holt—"

"No. I told you before, Claire. Stay out of this."

"I don’t have a choice. I—"

"Yes, you do!" Holt’s voice rose, something rare for him. "You keep pushing, and one day you’re not going to come back from it."

Claire clenched her jaw, fighting the sting behind her eyes. "Does love mean anything to you?" The words were out before she could stop them. "Do I?"

Silence. Holt's grip tightened at his sides. His jaw set in stone.

Claire turned away, choking back a sob as she stormed into the night.

Holt watched her go, his face unreadable, his hands clenched into fists.

And far away, something in the darkness was watching, too.

The figure brought out a small bottle from their pocket.

When it cranked its neck downwards, slobbery things fell out of its only eye into the bottle.

When the last bit poured, it covered the bottle. Heading to the owner of the errand it had been sent.