Fated to Break Open

Chapter 5

MAETHYS POV

Legs burst out from under the brush.

I lunge too late—claws tearing earth, jaws snapping on nothing. The sound it makes as it disappears is sharp and mocking, and I spin after it, too slow, too heavy, too hungry.

I missed the rabbit.

My stomach twists.

I pace the riverbank in tight circles, growling under my breath. The scents are everywhere—mud, water, rot, life—but nothing sharpens into something I can take. Nothing settles.

I walk away, determined to keep going and find lunch along the way.

Paths converge and expand in the foreign forest. Winter rw heavy on the branches and earth as snow crunched beneath my feet.

No matter what direction I went, I seemed to get myself turned around. The world looked so different through an animal’s eye. It was unsettling.

I had been gone for a few hours, the sun just rising over the tall trees. I had walked through the icy river for over an hour to ensure they wouldn’t be able to follow my scent. I was thankful for the thick fur coat of this form.

I still had no idea where I was, but something continued to pull at me. Not scent. Not sound.

Memory.

As soon as I had gotten out of the river, I followed it.

After more of my attempts at hunting fail, I recognize where I am. The forest gives way to familiar territory, though it still feels off. I am a different height, my senses catching every odor and sound.

Everything feels wrong in this form. Distances stretch. Familiar paths twist and blur. I double back twice before I realize it, frustration snapping through me sharp enough that I bare my teeth at nothing, hackles lifting.

When I finally reach it, I don’t recognize it at first.

My home.

The structure is broken open. Scorched. The smell of ash clings to everything, old but biting, layered over something sour that makes my skin crawl. I move closer slowly, ears flat, heart hammering so loud it drowns out the forest around me.

Inside is ruin.

Everything is overturned. Splintered. Blackened. The space feels wrong—too empty, too quiet, like something has been torn out and taken with it. I search without meaning to, nose sweeping the floor, the corners, the shadows.

There is no body.

My mind scrambles for explanations.

Taken.Burned.Eaten.

The last thought turns my stomach. I recoil, a broken sound slipping from my throat before I can stop it. I circle the room again, restless, searching for a scent that isn’t there anymore.

Whatever is left of my grandmother and the attackers is gone.

My feet wander uselessly in the empty house.

I can’t leave.

I try to curl where the bed used to be, instinct pulling me toward the familiar shape of it, but my flank knocks into the remains of a table. Wood clatters. Something small skitters across the floor. I freeze.

I don’t fit.

My body is too large, too heavy for this space. I knock things over just by turning. The doorway scrapes my shoulders when I try to pass through it. I huff in frustration, claws clicking against the floor, tail lashing once.

This place was never meant for this version of me.

I try to change back.

To be human.

I close my eyes and pull inward, reaching for the shape I know should be there—the balance, the break between forms—but nothing gives. My body stays locked, stubborn and unyielding. Panic flares hot and fast, chased by anger.

I try again.

Nothing.

Hunger gnaws harder, sharper now, dragging me back into my body whether I want it or not. I can’t stay. I can’t hunt here. I can’t be here.

My thoughts turn, unwillingly, to the place I had left.

They would know how to do this. How to shift back and forth. I had seen the man turn wolf effortlessly. And in only one stride.

I didn’t know what happened after I blacked out. I didn’t know for sure what kind of people they were.

But I knew I didn’t have any new injuries when I woke up. I hadn’t been chained or locked away. I was in a room. With people.

I vaguely remembered them trying to talk to me when my body changed.

So much of that time is a blur. I had been running on adrenaline.

If it was a large group of people who could change into wolves, it would be a pack. And the big wolf I ran into was likely an Alpha.

I knew of them, but we had always kept a distance. Grandma had warned me that they were strong, built for the hunt, not friendly to outsiders like us.

And now, my survival might rely on them.

They would have supplies. Shelter. Structure.

I have none of that.

I huff, which turns into a growl deep in my throat.

My paws find the path familiar to my human mind. I sift through the rubble, coming across what I was looking for.

The security box.

Something I had been shown dozens of times, but forbidden to open. A failsafe, grandmother had called it. If she ever disappeared or I ended up on my own, she said I would need this.

My paws won’t open it. Just another reason I needed human fingers again…

I squeeze back through the doorway, wood scraping fur, and step away.

After a few steps, I look between the place I used to call home, and the paw prints I was about to follow back the way I came.

I likely would never be back. My life would never look the same.

I felt the whine come out of my throat before I knew it would. A pitiful sound, really.

There was nothing left here that could save me.

I turned back to the woods and began walking, surer of my direction than before.

I didn’t know if they would help me.

But what weighed even heavier on my mind—

I didn’t know what they would ask in return.