Howling Moon

Just Me

Zara POV

I always knew I was different.

Not just the I-don’t-fit-in kind of different—this was something deeper. Something in my bones. I grew up in a quiet little town called Chelsea, Michigan, where nothing ever really happened, and people liked it that way. But even in a place full of old diners and Friday night football, I stood out.

I was adopted. My parents never hid that from me. They told me I was special, chosen. And maybe I was—just not in the way they thought.

From the time I could walk, I ran. Fast. Faster than anyone else at school. By middle school, I was blowing past kids two years older on the track. Basketball, softball—you name it, I played it, and I was good. Too good.

Coaches praised my speed, my instincts. Teammates joked that I had “freak reflexes.” I laughed with them, but sometimes… I wondered. There were moments I felt something pulling inside me when I ran, like the wind wasn’t just behind me—it was inside me.

I didn’t know what it meant.

I just knew I wasn’t normal. And some part of me was waiting—like I was born to become something else.