The Wolf Girl's Secret Box

Chatper3

A few minutes later, Edren waited for the pet shop’s portly owner. Unfortunately, the eight-month-old golden retriever couldn’t be sold to him.

“Why?!” Edren’s eyes widened, his beautiful dark gray irises full of shock and disbelief. “I’ve been looking forward to this for so long!”

“I’m terribly sorry,” the plump owner replied, his face creasing with genuine distress, as if refusing such a handsome, cheerful young man was a personal tragedy. “The truth is, this little golden retriever was a gift the mayor and his wife bought for their precious daughter. The girl originally wanted a Samoyed instead of a golden, so they left it here on consignment. Apparently, she changed her mind last night. I’m sorry we didn’t notify you sooner. Maybe you’d like to pick another puppy? You might like one of the others just as much.”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe I’ll run into them and the dog again during my evening walk.” Edren shrugged, pretending it was no big deal, though he felt utterly crushed inside.

He posted his feelings on Twitter:

The puppy I’d been hoping for didn’t work out. Feeling down.

Soon, someone replied: “If you can’t have a puppy, get a wolf instead.”

The quirky comment didn’t help much. Edren stuffed his phone back in his pocket and trudged home, head down. Alec sensed his mood and, for once, didn’t tease him about acting like a kid. Instead, he volunteered to help Catherine decorate for the birthday party.

“Edren, can you help inflate the balloons?” Catherine asked, standing on a stool to hang banners while Alec helped. She nodded toward the big bag in the corner.

“Sure.” Edren picked up the air pump and began inflating the balloons mechanically. Soon, a colorful carpet of balloons covered the floor.

“Edren, that’s enough! Stop—there’s nowhere left to walk!” Alec carried the rest of the decorations to the doorway, popping balloons with every step.

Edren shot him an apologetic look. His bad mood lasted less than half a day. Watching Alec stomp through the balloons made him laugh out loud.

Alec flashed him a middle finger. “Hurry up or your birthday party’s going to be a disaster.”

“Oh, crap.” Only then did Edren remember all the guests arriving that afternoon. He quickly dropped the pump and scrambled to pick up the balloons, grouping them in clusters and hanging them in every corner.

By midafternoon, classmates and neighbors began to arrive, filling the house with chatter and laughter. Each guest brought Edren a gift, and soon the coffee table overflowed with brightly wrapped boxes.

Alec plucked a toy teddy bear from the top of the pile and pressed it into Edren’s arms. “No real puppy? A substitute will have to do.”

Edren pretended to poke the teddy bear’s plastic eyes with two fingers just as several girls from his class approached. He quickly hid the toy behind his back and flashed his trademark smile.

“Happy birthday, Edren!” The girls swarmed around him.

“Thank you.”

After chatting for a moment, Edren found a break, set the toy bear on the stair railing, and stepped out into the yard.

Adeline was already blessed enough. He had loving parents, a brother who sometimes got on his nerves but could be sweet, and a host of classmates and friends who genuinely cared about him. What more could he want? Life always had its regrets—maybe the golden retriever was one of them.

The birthday party drew several times more guests than Catherine had expected. Invited or not, the house and yard were packed with energetic kids. She had to stay busy in the kitchen, placing multiple takeout orders.

“Too much popularity isn’t always a good thing for a son, you know?” Alec said loudly from the counter as he munched on pizza. He was still salty about missing out on Catherine’s homemade pie.

“No need to be jealous of your brother, Alec.” Catherine laughed heartily. If her hands weren’t full, she would have ruffled his hair. “Trust me, when you grow up, you’ll be just as popular as your brother.”

“No need to console me, Mom.” Alec swallowed the last bite, gulped down juice, and stomped off. “I’m only a year younger than Edren.”

Catherine shook her head, smiling. She opened the fridge, took out the cake she’d baked that morning, and placed sixteen candles on top, lighting them one by one. At her signal, Alec turned off the living room lights.

A hush fell over the room. Someone started singing, and soon everyone joined in for “Happy Birthday.” Amid the chorus, the cake was carried out to the long table in the yard.

Edren was pushed to the head of the table. “Make a wish, then blow out the candles!” someone shouted.

Bathed in candlelight, Edren closed his eyes and made his wish. Then he puffed out his cheeks and blew out the candles in one go.

Immediately after, a dollop of cream hit him square in the face.

Edren…

The lights switched back on, and the house erupted in laughter. Cream cakes flew everywhere, splattering walls and floors.

Edren soon found himself covered in cream. He escaped to the bathroom, washed up as best he could, then locked himself in his room—there was no other way to survive.

He didn’t reemerge until after ten, when the last of the guests had finally left. Only then did Edren dare peek out.

“Need some help?” Edren asked Catherine, who was pulling on gloves.

Catherine looked up with relief. She hefted an oversized trash bag and started tossing in debris. “Perfect timing! The yard needs rescuing.” She nodded toward the sofa back, where a fresh pair of gloves waited for Edren.

He had no choice but to put on the gloves and join in. The living room walls, floor, and sofa were a disaster. Then he stepped into the yard, surveying the cake-covered chaos and silently thanking fate that at least his room had survived.

After hauling out the last trash bag, Edren felt like a shell of himself. He dragged his feet upstairs, pushed open his bedroom door, and collapsed onto the deep blue carpet—just a step away from his soft bed.

His friends’ gifts had been moved to his bedroom and now lay scattered on the floor. Lying beside the pile, he glanced at them for a moment, then sat up cross-legged. Starting with the top box, he slowly unwrapped each gift.

There were the usual things: notebooks, fountain pens, soccer cleats, glass snow globes. Catherine had already set out a big empty box for him. Edren dragged it over and began packing the gifts away one by one.

When he finished, he flopped onto his bed. Something hard beneath his pillow poked his head. He reached under, pulled it out, and saw it was the small box Olivette had given him that morning.

Edren rolled onto his back under the covers. He untied the ribbon, unwrapped the paper, and pulled out the cardboard box inside. At last, he saw what was within.

It was a majestic wolf—reddish-brown, translucent, about the size of his fist. The material wasn’t expensive, probably some kind of resin. Edren flipped the figurine over. Beneath the left front paw was engraved the artist’s initials: O.H.—Olivier’s name, abbreviated. Edren mimicked the wolf’s fierce expression, silently baring his teeth.

He immediately realized how ridiculous he looked. Dropping the face, he reached for another, much smaller box from under the bed. This box was reserved for Olivette’s gifts, each one marked with O.H.

Before opening the lid, Edren remembered that the box had already been filled when he received the last gift.

He compared the little wolf’s size to the box his aunt had given him.

The empty box finally had a use, Edren thought. Both pieces were carved—a wooden box and a resin wolf. They looked good together.

He placed the wolf in the carved box, shut the lid, set both beside his bed, and turned off the light.

He was exhausted. The rest could wait until tomorrow.

...

Edren couldn’t quite describe the dream that followed. It felt almost real.

He dreamed of Olivette—don’t ask why; dreams never make sense. If he could, Edren would love to know why he dreamed of this guy, too.

In his dream, Olivette was walking alone through a dense, primeval forest. Sunlight barely filtered through the leaves, with only a few scattered patches on the ground. Bare-chested, he moved beneath towering trees. Barefoot, he crunched softly through thick layers of fallen leaves. Squirrels darted along high branches as he approached.

Olivier walked for a long time before stopping in a clearing. At its center stood a colossal tree. Its trunk was so wide, at least ten people would be needed to encircle it hand-in-hand. The massive canopy blocked out the sun, shading the ground so completely that nothing else grew nearby.

A brisk wind swept through the forest, billowing his pant legs. The treetop leaves trembled, rustling as if beckoning him closer. Olivier paused beneath the tree, then let out a low, unintelligible growl. The sound pierced the forest, echoing far into the distance and startling several birds from the branches.

Olivier searched for a foothold at the tree’s base. After circling the trunk, he found a spot and began climbing. He was incredibly agile, using hands and feet to scramble up to a branch. He seemed to be looking for something, darting back and forth among the thick limbs like a monkey. Soon, hidden in a crook of the trunk, he found it—a large, reddish-brown ball of hard resin, gleaming with an amber shine.

He looked thrilled, almost giddy with triumph. As he climbed down, his foot slipped. In that instant, his right arm scraped against the rough bark, tearing a deep gash. Blood gushed from the wound, staining half his arm. He frowned in annoyance, but didn’t seem too bothered.

Once on solid ground, he wiped the blood away with his left hand.

Only then did Edren get a good look at the injury. Miraculously, the torn flesh had nearly closed up within minutes. Even in that short time, the last traces of the wound disappeared. If it weren’t for the dried blood on his arm, Edren might have thought he imagined the whole thing.

Dreams really were strange.

But something even stranger happened next. Olivier tilted his head to the sky and let out a long, drawn-out howl—eerily like a wolf’s cry. As the last echoes faded, Olivier suddenly leaped forward and landed on all fours. In an instant, he transformed into a jet-black wolf with gleaming fur, snatched up the resin ball, and dashed away.

Oh God, what kind of dream is this? Edren screamed inside. Why haven’t I woken up yet?

The black wolf raced off and vanished. Edren instinctively stepped forward. Everything rippled like water, and suddenly he was in an unfamiliar room.

The silver-gray palette gave it a crisp, clean look. Sneakers were piled high on the shoe rack, while a row of handmade crafts lined the cabinets. At the far end, a trophy caught Edren’s eye: “Youth Rugby Tournament MVP.”

As he looked around, footsteps echoed on the stairs. Before he could react, the door swung open and Olivette walked in. Edren felt like he’d been caught in the act.

But Olivette didn’t notice him. He strode to his desk and immediately began examining a creamy, translucent sphere. A thick stack of sketches lay spread out—wolves, in all sorts of poses. Olivette pushed the papers aside and sorted through them, but none seemed to satisfy him.

After a long while, he stood up, set up his camera tripod, and switched it to auto mode, aiming it at his big bed. Then he leapt onto the mattress. Yes—he’d turned back into a wolf.

The camera’s light flashed. At the click of the shutter, he struck a calm pose, as if he did this all the time. Then he shifted into menacing, snarling, and threatening stances, followed by different hunting positions. To top it off, he even did a goofy dog impression for the camera.