The Wolf Between Worlds

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Chapter Four

Autumn arrived without ceremony.

It slipped into the orphanage through open windows and cracked doors, carrying the scent of dry leaves and distant smoke. The grass behind the compound had turned brittle, snapping beneath careless feet. Moses lay flat against it, arms folded beneath his head, eyes half-closed.

The wind brushed his skin ungently.It moved like fingers searching for something.

Laughter burst across the field. Children ran in uneven circles, shouting, tripping, colliding. The sound drilled into Moses’ skull. It too sharp, too many layers at once. He pressed his palms harder into the earth.

Underneath the noise, something else stirred.A sound stretched thin and high, tearing through the air like fabric pulled too far. Like a child like scream but different.

A call.

Moses’ eyes snapped open. His chest tightened. His breath caught halfway in. The world tilted, colors bleaching at the edges. His heartbeat thundered so loudly it drowned out the children’s laughter.

Fear slid into him cold and sudden. He had never felt it before.

He pushed himself upright, scanning the trees beyond the fence. The forest stood still, leaves unmoving, shadows thick between trunks. Yet the smell hit him next: iron, damp bark, something wild and alive.

His feet moved before he decided to stand.

He slipped through the bushes at the edge of the yard, thorns scratching his arms, roots grabbing at his ankles. The air changed immediately. It felt cooler, heavier. Every sound sharpened. He could hear insects burrowing, wings folding, something breathing far ahead.

Then he saw it. It stood between the trees, massive and silent.

Not a dog.

Its fur shimmered darkly, absorbing the light. Its golden eyes locked onto him, unblinking, knowing. The creature didn’t bare its teeth. Didn’t advance. It waited.

Moses’ throat burned as the world slammed suddenly into motion. He spun and ran, branches whipping his face, breath tearing from his lungs. He burst into the open yard screaming.

“Wolf! Wolf!”

The word cracked the air.

Children scattered. Someone fell. Jane shouted his name. Adults rushed forward, voices overlapping, confused. Marco stepped out from the crowd, arms folded.

“There’s nothing there,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s lying again.”

Moses shook his head violently. “I saw it. I swear. It was watching me.”

Marco smirked. “Maybe you’re the wolf.”Laughter rippled, uncertain but sharp.

Adults searched the bushes. Nothing moved. No tracks. No snapped branches. Just quiet.

Inside, Mother Loveth closed the office door and gripped Moses’ hands. His pulse raced beneath her fingers.

“Tell me exactly what you saw,” she said.

“A wolf,” he whispered. “But not like before. This one looked at me like it knew me.”

Her lips pressed thin. Why was he seeing wolves...?

Down the corridor, voices carried.

“That boy again.”

“He’s strange, like a demon.”

“Always talking about wolves.”

Moses’ ears burned. Each word landed too clearly, too close.

At dinner, he watched Ma Caroline move around the kitchen, her back stiff, mouth tight. Her words from earlier echoed in his head "demon child."

His fingers curled beneath the table.

Later, the metal rack above the stove creaked softly.

Moses froze.

The bolts were loose. He remembered touching them earlier, twisting just enough to hear the faint give. A thought, quick, angry and flashed through him.

Not to hurt. Just to scare.

Ma Caroline stepped beneath it.

The rack groaned.

“Mama!” Moses screamed.

The metal frame snapped free.

Time collapsed.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat. His hands slammed upward, catching the weight mid-fall. The metal bit into his palms. The floor cracked beneath his feet.

Gasps erupted.

Ma Caroline staggered back, eyes wide. Moses stood there, arms shaking, holding what should have crushed him.

Mother Loveth dove into the rubble, pulling him away, wrapping him in her arms as the room exploded into noise.

Inside her room, Moses sobbed, face buried against her chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I wanted her to stop talking about you.”

Loveth held him, rocking slowly. Outside, the wind surged against the walls.

“My boy,” she muttered, voice breaking, “don’t let anger decide who you become.”

A howl drifted faintly through the night.

Moses stiffened.

Beneath it, softer and closer, came another sound.

A heartbeat calling his name.