Moonbound Hearts

The New Transfer

When the first pale rays of morning light slipped through the curtains, my room felt like a cage I’d been hiding in. I forced myself up, washed my face, and tried to look like a normal seventeen year old girl getting ready for school instead of someone who’d spent the night flirting with terror.

But as I stepped outside, the crisp air cutting my lungs awake, something in me knew that Silverpine was no longer the same town I’d grown up in.

And whatever had stood in my yard last night wasn’t finished with me.

Morning in Silverpine had a strange way of pretending the night before didn’t happen.

Birds chirped. The sky stretched pale blue above the treeline. Neighbors bustled about their porches, scraping frost off their car windshields and calling cheerful greetings that sounded too bright for a town where fear had sunk roots.

I stood at the edge of my driveway, my backpack slung over my shoulder, staring at the exact patch of grass where the figure had stood.

Nothing. No footprints. No sign that someone, or something, had been there.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Get a grip, Lila,” I muttered.

A car honked twice.

Mason’s rusted Jeep rolled to a stop beside me, his hair messy from the overnight shift, dark circles under his eyes. He leaned over the passenger seat and raised a brow. “You ready or what?”

“Yeah,” I said, climbing in.

The Jeep smelled like motor oil and the peppermint gum Mason chewed to stay awake. He pulled out of the driveway, yawning. “You look like hell. Didn’t sleep?”

“Couldn’t,” I admitted. “Heard…noises.”

He side-eyed me. “More wolves?”

I hesitated. “Maybe. I thought I saw someone in the yard.”

That got his attention. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “A person?”

“I don’t know. It was dark.”

Mason cursed under his breath. “Lila, you can’t leave the curtains open at night. You’re basically inviting creeps to watch you.”

My stomach flipped. The unknown texter’s words echoed in my mind: You shouldn’t look into the woods at night.

I stared out the window, biting my tongue. Mason wouldn’t believe me if I told him about the texts, or the golden eyes.

Silverpine High School squatted at the edge of town. The flag out front flapped weakly in the wind, and a group of football players clustered near the entrance, their laughter carrying in the cold morning air.

I kept my hood up and head down as I walked through the doors, trying to disappear into the flow of students. My locker was on the far side of the hallway, near the art wing, which meant I could usually avoid the main traffic jams.

I spun the combination lock and yanked the door open - then froze.

Inside, taped to the metal shelf, was a small folded note.

No name.

My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.

Did you sleep well, Lila?

My breath hitched. I glanced up and down the hallway, scanning faces, searching for someone watching me, but everyone looked busy with their own routines.

Was this real? Or had I walked straight into a nightmare that hadn’t ended with sunrise?

By third period, I’d managed to convince myself it was some stupid prank. Maybe someone from class had seen my light on late and decided to mess with me. That was easier to believe than the alternative.

I slid into my seat in the back of English class, my notebook ready. Ms. Kincaid went on and on about Shakespeare, but I couldn’t focus. My gaze kept drifting to the empty seat two rows over, the one everyone said was for the new transfer student.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the classroom door opened.

He walked in.

The boy from the woods.

I knew it the moment I saw him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with messy black hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His jacket was worn leather, his boots scuffed with something dark along the edges—mud, maybe. Or dried blood.

But it was his eyes that trapped me.

Golden.

Exactly the same color that had glowed in the dark outside my window.

“Class, this is Kael Donovan,” Ms. Kincaid said, barely looking up from her notes. “He’s transferring from - where was it again?”

“Montana,” he said, his voice smooth but quiet.

He scanned the room, and for a heartbeat, our eyes locked. My stomach flipped.

I don’t know if he recognized me, but my body did something I couldn’t explain - heart racing, palms clammy, heat curling low in my chest like a warning and an invitation all at once.

Ms. Kincaid gestured to the empty seat two rows over. He slid into it with a kind of predator’s grace, effortless and confident, and I swore I caught a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth when he noticed I was watching.

I told myself not to look at him.

I failed.

By the end of class, Kael had barely said a word, but I could feel him there, a quiet gravity pulling me in. And when the bell rang, I found another note on my desk.

I told you not to look in the woods.

I sat frozen at my desk long after the bell rang, my fingers brushing over the edge of the note.

I didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to see if he was watching me.

But of course, I did.

Kael Donovan leaned casually against the doorframe, waiting for the hall to clear. He wasn’t even pretending to blend in - students gave him side glances, whispers rippling like wind through tall grass. He had that untouchable aura, the kind that made people curious and wary all at once.

And right now, his golden eyes were on me.

My pulse jumped.

I shoved the note into my pocket and forced my legs to work, sliding my bag over my shoulder. My sneakers squeaked against the floor as I made my way toward the door.

He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, just watched me approach like I was some animal he was waiting to see run.

I hesitated at the threshold. “Were you—”

“I told you not to look into the woods,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear.

My chest tightened. I wanted to deny it, to play dumb, but the memory of last night burned too vividly in my mind.

“You were in my yard,” I whispered. It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he straightened and stepped past me into the hallway, his scent hitting me as he moved—woodsmoke, pine, and something sharper I couldn’t name. My stomach twisted in confusion, fear, and a spark of something I refused to acknowledge.

By lunch, the whispers about Kael Donovan had grown louder.

“Where do you think he’s from?” someone at my table asked.

“He said Montana,” another replied.

I stabbed my fork into my salad, my appetite missing in action.

He sat alone on the far side of the cafeteria, leaning back like he owned the space. A few brave souls had tried to sit near him, but he gave off this vibe. Not unfriendly, exactly, but wild. Untamed.

I tried not to look at him. I failed again.

After school, the day had warmed slightly, but the wind still carried that sharp, cold bite that warned of early winter. I walked home alone, Mason stuck at work until late again. My sneakers crunched on the gravel shoulder of the road, the trees lining the edge of Silverpine casting long shadows across my path.

Halfway home, I heard it.

Footsteps.

I froze and glanced over my shoulder.

Kael.

He wasn’t trying to hide his presence—he walked openly, hands in his jacket pockets, head slightly tilted like he was listening to something I couldn’t hear.

I turned back toward the road, heart beating. “Are you following me?”

“Yes.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. “Uh—why?”

“To make sure you get home safe.”

My brows drew together. “From what?”

“The woods,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

We walked in silence for a while, my nerves fraying with every step. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. There was an intensity to him that felt predatory. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of safety with him nearby, like the shadows themselves wouldn’t dare touch me as long as he walked behind me.

Finally, I stopped and faced him. “Listen. I don’t know what your deal is, but if this is some weird joke”

His gaze locked on mine, and for a split second, I swore I saw the gold in his irises flare brighter.

“This isn’t a joke,” he said.

We reached my house as the sky shifted toward twilight, the sun bleeding red along the horizon. I hesitated at the bottom of the steps, my hand hovering over the railing.

“You shouldn’t be out here after dark,” Kael said quietly. “And keep your curtains closed tonight.”

The way he said it - calm, but firm - sent a chill crawling up my spine.

Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and melted into the trees. No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone, like he’d never been there.

I spent the rest of the evening in a haze of unease.

I locked the doors twice. I checked the windows three times.

And still, when the moon rose, I felt it again

That electric pull from the woods, like something ancient and alive was calling my name

That night, the wind carried a different kind of whisper.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, sketchbook open, trying to lose myself in charcoal lines and smudges. My hand moved almost on its own, tracing the outline of Kael’s silhouette—broad shoulders, the fall of his hair, and those golden eyes I couldn’t stop thinking about.

It was stupid.

I barely knew him.

And yet, every time I closed my eyes, I saw him standing in the mist, a figure that belonged more to the night than to daylight halls and lockers.

A howl split the quiet, closer than it had been the night before.

My pencil stopped mid-stroke.

Another followed, this one rougher, jagged, like it carried pain or rage.

I slid off the bed and crept to the window. The woods were still. Too still. Even the usual chorus of night insects had gone silent. The porch light flickered against the fog, painting it gold for a heartbeat before darkness swallowed it again.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number:

Stay away from the trees tonight.

I backed away from the window, pulse hammering in my ears. My thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to answer.

Another buzz.

Promise me, Lila.

I didn’t respond.

Because part of me, the reckless part I hated, wanted to know what would happen if I didn’t listen.