Chapter 5 : Footsteps in the Wind
506 Words
Nightfall descended quietly, the clouds hanging low and heavy, stretching shadows across the streets of Pine Hollow. The air felt tight, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Liam stood on the small bridge near the town center, staring down at the slow-moving stream below. The water mirrored a fractured sliver of moonlight, trembling with the current.
He could feel them now.
It wasn’t a guess—it was instinct. The rogues were here, prowling through the edge of the woods, tasting the air. Hunting. Maybe for him. Maybe for her.
He turned to leave, but paused as a figure appeared at the end of the bridge.
Clara.
She wore a dark coat and clutched a worn book to her chest—clearly just returned from North Hollow Books. She hesitated, then stepped toward him.
“You’ve always known,” she said, skipping any pretense, her voice steady, “about the forest, the animals... about yourself.”
Liam didn’t deny it. He simply nodded.
Clara looked down at the book, then back at him. Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes didn’t waver. “Moonbound. They’re not just myths, are they?”
Liam stared at her, and for a moment, the wolf flickered behind his eyes. “Not myths. Curses. Blood.”
“And you?” she asked softly. “What are you?”
“I’m trying not to lose what’s left of the man.”
Silence stretched between them before Clara stepped closer. “You said you wanted to protect me. So let me ask you now—am I really in danger?”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “A rogue pack has moved into the forest’s edge. They have no rules. No conscience. They hunt... for the thrill.”
“Do they know about me?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his brow furrowed. “But you and I... we’re already too close.”
A distant howl cut through the night—short, sharp, and deliberate. Not natural. Not wild. A message.
Clara went pale.
Liam reacted instantly. “Come with me. Now.”
He led her through narrow alleys, past the riverbank, to his cabin tucked beneath a tangle of pines. It was the first time she’d seen where he lived—she had expected something colder, more broken. But it was quiet. Dimly lit. The walls were adorned with his artwork—moody paintings of forests under moonlight, of solitude and wilderness.
“I’m patrolling the woods tonight,” Liam said, voice low. “You’re safer here than in your home.”
“Will you... change?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t look away. He nodded. “It’s not the full moon yet, but I can feel it. It’s getting harder to fight.”
Clara gripped the book tighter, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Liam’s gray eyes softened in the candlelight.
“No,” he murmured, “but you should be afraid of what’s coming for us both.”
- Writer
