The Red Wolf

Summer Heat

A week slipped by in a haze of sun, sweat, and half-hearted plans that never really went anywhere. The kind of summer lull where the days blended together, not because they were boring, but because everything moved so slowly it felt like time forgot to keep ticking.

Every morning started the same. Heat already clinging to the walls by 8 a.m., sunlight pooling through the blinds like liquid gold. My sheets were always twisted from restless sleep, dreams half-remembered and uncomfortably vivid. Most of them ended with me staring into trees I didn’t recognize, or eyes I couldn’t quite place.

I didn’t tell anyone about them.

Instead, I met up with Stella and Bailey almost every afternoon. We drifted from the lake to the corner diner to the old train bridge that nobody really used anymore. Some nights we sat on rooftops, watching the stars blink to life above the sleepy town, pretending we had more to talk about than we actually did.

Bailey brought snacks, Stella brought music, and I—well, I brought the strange feeling that something was shifting.

I hadn’t seen Ronan again. Not really. I’d catch a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision or think I saw his silhouette across a field, but when I turned, there was nothing there. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe I just wanted to see him.

But even when he wasn’t there, I felt like he was.

And the world around me? It wasn’t the same.

It started with the bacon.

One morning, Stella’s mom made us breakfast after we crashed at her place, and I swear to God it was the best thing I had ever smelled in my life. The scent hit me before I even stepped into the kitchen—rich, salty, mouthwatering. My stomach growled so loud Stella laughed, but I wasn’t even embarrassed. I couldn’t think about anything except how badly I wanted that bacon.

Then there was the water at the lake. It used to feel cold for the first few seconds, but now it was more like slipping into a second skin. I could stay underwater longer, move faster, hear clearer. Once, I swore I heard a conversation on the far end of the dock while I was fully submerged.

I kept that to myself, too.

Something was happening to me.

And I didn’t understand it.

By the time the next Thursday rolled around, the sky was bruised with thunderclouds, but the air was still sticky and hot. Bailey had convinced us to go hiking through the south woods, which was either going to be a great idea or an absolutely terrible one. I hadn’t decided yet.

“You know the weather app says it’s gonna storm, right?” Stella called out as she stepped over a fallen branch.

Bailey turned around and walked backward just to grin at her. “That app is never right. It said it’d rain three days ago and all we got was some distant thunder and a panic attack.”

“I’d rather not get struck by lightning just to prove your theory.”

I tuned them out as we walked. The forest was loud in the way only summer can be—cicadas screaming from the trees, birds flitting in and out of the leaves, branches creaking overhead with every gust of wind. My skin itched with sweat, but the breeze that occasionally filtered through was sweet relief.

And again, things felt… sharper. More alive. I could hear the crunch of a squirrel in the brush fifty feet off the path. I could smell damp soil and something metallic that set my teeth on edge.

I didn’t say anything.

We reached a clearing Bailey wanted to show us—just a wide space of tall grass ringed with trees and half-fallen logs, the kind of place you’d expect to see fairies or cultists or both. I sat on a rock while Bailey passed around lukewarm sodas from his backpack, and for a while we just sat there, talking about nothing important.

Then Stella stood up, brushing her hands on her shorts. “Alright, I’m heading back. I told my mom I’d be home before five.”

“I’ll walk you to the fork,” Bailey said, hopping to his feet.

I opened my mouth to say I’d go too, but something stopped me. A tug in my gut, like I was meant to stay a little longer. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t like how natural it felt.

“I’ll catch up,” I said instead.

Stella narrowed her eyes. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just want a minute.”

Bailey hesitated, but then nodded. “Don’t get eaten by a bear.”

They disappeared down the path, and I let out a slow breath.

The clearing was quieter now. Still, but not peaceful. That metallic scent was back, faint but insistent, and my heart started to beat faster without any real reason. I stood, brushing my palms on my jeans, and turned toward the woods.

Then I heard it.

A branch snapped.

I spun around, eyes scanning the trees, heart pounding harder than it had any right to. “Hello?”

No answer.

The wind picked up again, curling around me like a warning. I took a step back—then another.

And that’s when my foot caught on something.

Time slowed. I tried to catch myself, arms flailing, but momentum had other plans. I tripped over a half-buried root and went down hard—except I didn’t hit the ground.

I hit someone.

There was a grunt beneath me, arms wrapping instinctively around my waist as we collided. My breath caught in my throat as I looked down.

Ronan.

His dark eyes were inches from mine, wide with surprise but calm in a way that made my skin crawl and shiver at the same time. His hands were still on me, steadying us both, and all I could do was stare.

Up close, he smelled like the forest itself. Pine and rain and something unplaceably sharp.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and even.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

Because suddenly the world was louder again—the wind roaring, my heart racing, the blood in my ears thundering like a drumbeat.

And all I could think was:

What are you?