The wolf at the river
1146 Words
Lyra’s POV
I woke to the smell of herbs.
It slipped into my room before I even opened my eyes, warm and bitter at the same time. My mother must have been awake before dawn again. She was always up early.
I lay still for a moment, listening.
The river flowed outside like it always did. Birds sang from the trees. The house creaked softly as the wood warmed under the hot sun. Everything sounded normal, and yet my body felt wrong. Heavy. Tight. Like I had run far without moving at all.
I sat up slowly.
The mark on my shoulder no longer burned, but it felt warm. I pulled my shirt higher without looking at it and swung my feet onto the floor.
Today felt different.
Not bad. Just sharp.
I washed my face and tied my hair back before heading downstairs. My mother stood by the table, grinding dried leaves with her hands. She looked up when she heard me.
“Morning,” she said gently.
“Morning.”
She studied my face longer than usual. “Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
She nodded like she expected that answer. “Eat something first.”
My father sat near the door, sharpening his knife. He lifted his head and met my eyes. His gaze lingered for half a second too long.
That made my chest tighten.
“I will be back before noon,” he said. “Do not go near the woods.”
I frowned. “I never do.”
His jaw tensed. “Still.”
After he left, the house felt too quiet.
My mother handed me a piece of bread and poured tea into a cup. We sat together, the table between us, steam rising into the air. She worked while I ate, her fingers sorting herbs by smell alone.
“Will you help me today?” she asked.
“With the herbs?”
“Yes. Old Mara hurt her leg again.”
I nodded. Helping my mother always made me feel good. Healing made sense. It followed rules. Pain eased when you treated it right.
Unlike my dreams.
We left the house together once the sun rose. The village was already awake. People greeted my mother warmly as we passed. Some nodded at me too, though their eyes lingered in a way I did not like.
They always did.
Old Mara’s house sat near the edge of Nightmere, close enough to the trees that shadows stretched across her yard even at midday. She smiled when we arrived, but it was clear she was in pain.
My mother knelt beside her, checking the swollen leg.
“Lyra,” she said, “hand me the herbs.”
I did, watching closely.
Mara hissed when my mother pressed the herbs into place. “Hurts like hell.”
“It will ease,” my mother said as she wrapped a bandage around her leg.
Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand over the bandage.
Warmth flowed through my palm.
Mara’s breath steadied almost at once.
She blinked. “Well I will be.”
My mother stiffened.
I pulled my hand back quickly. “Sorry. I did not mean to.”
Mara laughed. “Do not apologize, child. That felt like magic.”
My mother forced a smile. “She has always had a gentle touch.”
We finished quickly and stepped outside.
The air shifted.
I felt it before I saw it.
My skin prickled as the forest went quiet. No birds. No wind. My heart began to race.
“Mother,” I whispered.
She followed my gaze.
At the edge of the trees stood a wolf.
Large. Dark. Its eyes fixed on me.
I froze.
The wolf took a step forward, teeth flashing. A low growl rumbled from its chest.
My mother moved in front of me at once. “Stay back,” she said sharply.
The wolf bent, muscles cracking.
Fear washed over me, sharp and cold. I could not breathe. Could not move.
Then something inside me stirred.
Heat rushed through my veins. My chest burned. The mark on my shoulder burned hot.
The wolf froze.
Its ears flattened. The growl died in its throat.
Slowly, it lowered its head.
Then it turned and ran.
The forest swallowed it whole.
Silence washed over us.
My mother’s hands shook.
I stared at the trees, my breath coming fast. “It ran,” I said.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“It was going to attack.”
“Yes.”
“But it did not.”
“No.”
I turned to her slowly. “Why?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it again.
“We should go home,” she said.
My heart pounded all the way back.
My father was waiting when we arrived. His face was pale.
“You felt it,” he said.
I nodded. “A wolf tried to kill me. Then it ran.”
His eyes met my mother’s.
That was enough.
“Tell me,” I said. “Now.”
They led me inside and shut the door. My father barred it, his movements tense. My mother sat across from me, hands folded tight.
“You are not human,” my father said quietly.
The words landed heavy but not surprising.
“I know,” I replied.
My mother inhaled sharply. “You are a wolf. Like us. But different.”
I waited.
“We found you,” she continued, voice trembling. “Years ago. In the woods. You were hurt. Burning with fever. Alone.”
“You had no memory,” my father said. “No name. No pack.”
My throat tightened. “You are not my parents.”
“We are,” my mother said quickly. “In every way that matters.”
I nodded. “But I came from somewhere else.”
“Yes.”
“And wolves watch me because they know.”
“They sense you,” my father said. “Your power.”
The room felt smaller.
“Why can I not shift?” I asked.
They exchanged a look.
“We do not know,” my mother said. “Only that you are stronger than any wolf we have seen.”
The image of the wolf bowing its head burned in my mind.
“Where did I come from?” I asked.
My father hesitated. “We do not know the name of the place.”
My chest tightened again.
But I knew.
The name rose clear and sharp in my mind, like it had always been there.
Moonstone.
Something inside me pulled hard, fierce and sure.
I lifted my head. “I am not meant to stay here.”
My parents said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Outside, the wind shifted.
And far beyond Nightmere, something waited for me to come home.
- Writer
