Loving the human in the wolf

The sound of sizzling oil competed with the clatter of plates and the steady murmur of voices in Mama Ada's canteen. The air smelled of pepper, fried plantain, and hope; the kind of aroma that stuck to your clothes and reminded you of home. Amara wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she served a steaming bowl of pepper soup to a hungry customer. She could see him salivating as she served the steaming goodness. Her white apron was already dirty from the evening rush, but she didn't mind. She never did. College was her aim, and each shift moved her closer to it.Just one more week, she thought to herself. One more week of scraping change, running orders, and helping Mama close the shop late at night. Her small metal box, concealed beneath the freezer and loaded with her wrinkled savings, was nearly full. Once her fees were paid, she'd be able to pursue her ambition of studying Accounting at the prestigious Hillcrest College of Business. It was her dream to one day run a chain of businesses. It felt like another world; polished passageways, spotless desks, smart students dressed in blazers and heels. So far from the grease-stained floorboards of Mama Ada's canteen. But she'd get there. Somehow, she was certain in her heart and her current actions will no doubt propel her to the goal. "Amara!" her mother called from the rear kitchen, her voice shrill. "Table six is waiting!" "I'm coming," she said hastily, brushing by a chair. She halted when she noticed who was sitting there. Table six. The same group of men visited every Thursday evening. Always late. Constantly keeping an eye on everything. They were strangely silent and calm. They never joked or grinned, and they ordered like clockwork, never missing a beat: fried rice, grilled turkey, and more pepper. Tonight however, there were five of them. And one more. A new figure stood near the wall, hooded and motionless. Although his entire face was shrouded by darkness, she could feel his gaze. Heavy. Unrelenting. Almost familiar. Amara came with cautious steps, tray in hand. "Good evening," she spoke quietly. "Same as usual?" One of the regulars nodded once. Scarred cheek and thick arms folded. "Add some pepper," he muttered. She turned to leave as soon as she felt it. That pull. Her gaze shifted, almost without her permission, to the cloaked figure. Their gazes met briefly. Not brown. Not Hazel. Golden. Her breath froze; despite his unreadable glare, she sensed something. Not dread, not quite. More like recognition. But that was ludicrous; she had never seen him before. She would have remembered. She blinked. He was gone. No way. She quickly turned her head, surveying the dim canteen. The area where he stood was deserted. Perhaps he had gone outside? Her skin prickled, sending chills down her spine. “Amara!” Mama’s voice snapped her back. “What’s wrong with you? Lift this tray properly!” She forced a smile, collected the plates, and delivered the orders. Everything after that happened too fast. The clink of forks. A sudden silence. You could hear a pin drop. Then that was when she heard it, it was sharp and distinctive ; A growl. Low. Animalistic. Coming from behind her. Amara turned, heart racing. The man with the scar was no longer a man. Bones snapped. His flesh rippled and transformed in front of her. Fur grew. Teeth elongated. His roar transformed into a snarl, and the others at the table followed suit, their forms changing; clothes shredding, fingers twisting into claws. Screams erupted across the canteen. Chairs toppled. Pots dropped. Mama Ada yelled for help, seizing her daughter's wrist and dragged her to the back exit. But before they could reach the door, it slammed open with a thunderous crash. Another beast loomed there; taller, darker, and more terrifying. Saliva poured from its sharp fangs as it gave a guttural howl. Amara froze. “Mama” she whispered, she tried screaming but all she could muster was a whisper. “Run!” her mother shouted, shoving her behind the freezer. But then; he came. A blur of motion. A roar that shook the windows. The golden-eyed stranger returned, no longer cloaked in shadows, and no, he was no longer human. He was something else. Something terrifying yet magnificent. His form was massive, taller than any of the others. Black fur, silver-tipped claws, and of course golden eyes that glowed like fire. He lunged at the beast obstructing the the door, knocking it sideways. The two collided with bone-crunching force, claws slashing, teeth snapping. What a sight to behold! Amara crouched behind a crate, watching in horror and awe. He fought like a wolf possessed. He moved with rage and precision, tearing through the others until only blood and broken furniture remained. And then... silence. The golden-eyed wolf stood tall in the wreckage. His chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths. He turned slowly, locking eyes with her again. Amara couldn’t breathe. This time, she saw it; the flicker of something human behind the beast. She couldn’t quite place it. Was it sadness? Recognition? Regret? But before she could speak, before she could even make a move: He was gone. Out through the back, into the shadows of the night. Yet she knew this was one memory that was forever etched in her brain.