Nirvana

The forest was quiet. Too quiet. No rustling. No wind. No life. Just the thick hum of something… waiting. At the edge of the South Ridge, a figure stepped into the clearing—barefoot, cloaked in shadow. Her presence didn’t disturb the leaves or the soil. Even the trees leaned away, unsure whether to bow or flee. She crouched by a trail of faint footprints—wolf, large, recent. Her fingers hovered just above the earth. She didn’t touch it. Not yet. Instead, she inhaled. Deeply. Slowly. Like a predator savoring scent before the pounce. “Ah,” she murmured. “They’re young.” Another step forward. Another breath. “But not weak.” The red moon above pulsed like a heartbeat, glowing through the mist. She tilted her head toward it, letting its light graze her skin. Her eyes opened, revealing pupils that flickered with silver flame. “I see you, soulbound.” Her voice was velvet and venom. “And I see your precious pack.” She smiled—a mouth full of patience and fangs. “Let’s play.” Then, with the grace of wind slipping through trees, she vanished. And far below, in the dream of a certain wolf-girl named Kaliska, the moon turned red… and the howl that followed didn’t come from anyone she recognized.