What Hunts the Wolf

Chapter 5: Changes

I drive around the small neighborhood, not wanting to go home just yet.

After about thirty minutes of going in circles, I finally give in and head back.

The small red brick house comes into view. I barely have time to think before I’m already pulling into the gravel driveway. Vines crawl up the sides of the house, and it’s obvious it hasn’t been cared for in a long time.

The house looks the same as it did yesterday—quiet, still, like nothing has changed.

But everything has.

I kill the engine and sit there for a moment, staring at the old yellow front door.

Then I grab my bag and head inside.

The smell of something cooking hits me immediately.

Auntie stands at the stove, her back to me.

“You’re late,” she says without turning around.

“I explored the neighborhood,” I reply, dropping my bag near the door.

“What for?” she asks, a hint of concern slipping into her voice.

I hesitate.

“Just… wanted to see my surroundings.”

She hums, not pressing further. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“I’m not that hungry,” I mumble. That gets her to turn.

“You need to eat, Allison.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Her lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue. Concern flickers in her eyes. “Suit yourself.” The conversation ends just like that.

Night comes too quickly.

Sleep doesn’t.

I toss and turn, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying everything—

The woods.

The wolves.

The twins.

The way everything feels… wrong.

My leg doesn’t hurt. Not even a little. That bothers me more than anything.

With a frustrated sigh, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, my mind racing. I glance out the old window. Wind bends the trees outside, branches scraping faintly against each other.

The clear sky stares back at me.

Calling.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my jacket and climb out. The lattice creaks under my weight as I make my way down. My foot slips for a second, but I catch myself.

“Still holding,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

Barely.

The woods feel different at night.

Darker.

Quieter.

Watching.

I follow the same path as before, my steps slower this time, more cautious.

The clearing comes into view. And I stop. My bag is gone. I step forward, scanning the ground. Nothing. No sketchbook. No pencils. No sign that I was ever there at all.

“That’s… not possible,” I whisper.

I know exactly where I left it. I look around, my heart starting to race.

The trees stand still. Silent.

Too silent.

A chill runs down my spine. I can feel it— Eyes on me. Waiting.

I don’t stay any longer.

By the time I get back to my room, my heart is still racing. I shut the window behind me and lean against it, trying to steady my breathing.

“Okay… okay…”

My gaze drops to my leg.

Something feels… different. Frowning, I pull up my pant leg. The bandage is still there. Slowly, I peel it away.

My breath catches.

The wound is gone. Completely. All that’s left is a faint, jagged scar—like it healed weeks ago instead of hours.

“What…”

My fingers hover over it, barely brushing the skin.

No pain. Nothing. That’s not normal.

That’s not human.

“Meow?”

I look up. Kozmo stands in the doorway, his blue eyes locked onto me.

Relief washes over me—until he doesn’t move.

“Hey,” I say softly. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, his ears flatten slightly, and he takes a hesitant step back. My stomach drops.

“Kozmo?”

He lets out a low, uncertain sound—nothing like his usual greeting—and backs away further. Like he doesn’t recognize me.

Or worse— Like he doesn’t trust me.

Something inside me twists painfully.

“It’s me,” I whisper, crouching down slowly. “Hey… it’s okay.”

He watches me carefully, body tense, ready to bolt.

I don’t move too fast.

Don’t reach for him.

Just wait. Minutes pass. Slowly…

Carefully…

He takes a step forward. Then another.

“Yeah… that’s it,” I murmur tears in my eyes.

My hand lifts just slightly.

He hesitates—then finally closes the distance, pressing his head cautiously against my fingers.

Relief hits me harder than I expect as I gently stroke down his back.

“I’m still me,” I whisper, more to myself than him.

Aren’t I?

The next morning feels… off.

Again.

Everything feels sharper. Clearer. Wrong.

I don’t even question it anymore.

I pull on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, dragging it over my head before heading downstairs.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

A note sits on the table.

Allison,

Went to the store. Your bike will be here tomorrow.

—Aunt

I set the note back down and grab my things.

I don’t think.

I just get in the truck and drive.

The parking lot is just as full as yesterday.

And my spot—

Isn’t empty. The green punch buggy sits right in it.

Of course.

I park nearby instead, jaw tightening as I climb out. The group of girls is there again.

And the blonde—

She’s already watching me.

“Hey,” she calls out.

I stop.

Slowly turning. She steps forward, her friends trailing behind her.

“That was my spot,” she says, crossing her arms.

Wasn’t she in the middle of the lot yesterday?

I raise an eyebrow. “Pretty sure it’s not assigned.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“It is now.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “Good for you.”

I start to turn away.

“Evelyn,” she says suddenly.I pause.

“That’s my name,” she adds, like it matters. Her friends sneer behind her like I’m missing out on a secret.

I glance back. “Cool.”

Her expression tightens.

“You’ve got an attitude for someone new.”

She steps closer, her blonde hair lifting slightly in the breeze.

“And you’ve got a problem for no reason,” I shoot back.

Her friends shift behind her, tension snapping tight.

For a second, it feels like something more might happen—

Then—

“Evelyn.”

A voice cuts through the moment.

Calm. Sharp.

I turn.

One of the twins stands there.

The quieter one.

Hazel eyes flick between us before settling on me.

Evelyn straightens slightly. I catch the shift—like she suddenly remembers her place.

“What?” she snaps, though there’s hesitation under it. He doesn’t look at her again though his sharp eyes on me.

“She’s not worth it.”

Something about the way he says it sends a chill down my spine.

Not insulting.

Not dismissive.

Just… certain.

His gaze lingers on me for a second longer—like he’s searching for something.

Then he turns and walks away.

Something stirs in the back of my mind.

Aggressive.

Challenging.

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

And just like that—

The moment is over. But the tension?

It doesn’t leave.

Not even close.

I turn and head into the school.

Another long day ahead.