The wolf drew nearer—each step slow, deliberate, silent. D’Angelo couldn’t move. His muscles felt like they’d turned to stone. His breath came in small, shallow gasps as his thoughts swirled into chaos.

  Run. I should run.

  But where?

  He didn’t know this place—nothing looked familiar. The trees were too thick, the grass too tall, and the light too dim. And even if he did run, he knew deep in his bones that the wolf would catch him in seconds. He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough. His legs were still sore from the chase through the woods, and his body ached from everything he’d already been through.

  Fight, then?

  He glanced down at his hands. Dirty. Shaking. He didn’t even have a stick. And this wasn’t a dog—it was huge. Bigger than Shadow, leaner and wilder, its frame packed with muscle beneath its fur. D’Angelo couldn’t even guess what it would feel like to be bit by something like that.

  So I can’t run. I can’t fight.

  His heart pounded in his chest like it was trying to escape. He was cornered by the worst kind of choice—the kind where every option felt like the wrong one.

  The wolf came to a stop about fifteen feet away. The air between them felt heavier somehow, charged with something that didn’t make sense. It stared at him—not just watching, but measuring.

  And then…

  It spoke.

  Its voice was deep and low, like wind passing through old trees. The sound vibrated in D’Angelo’s chest.

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  “Human child,”“why do you trespass on our land?”

  

  D’Angelo stared, wide-eyed and speechless, at the talking wolf.

  A wolf that talks… He’d just met Shadow, Jeremiah's talking dog companion. Were all animals able to talk and he’d never noticed. But then a memory bubbled up: something Jeremiah had said back at the campfire. About animals touched by the rifts. Creatures that changed, just like some people did. Some became smarter. Some became dangerous.

  This wolf—he was one of them. No doubt.

  D’Angelo’s wonder slipped into caution.

  A deep, low growl snapped him out of his thoughts.

  “Do you not know how to speak, pup?”

  D’Angelo flinched. “Y-yes,”

  The wolf’s golden eyes narrowed, and it began to pace. Slow, deliberate steps as it circled him, each movement smooth and silent as the wind.

  “Why is a human pup alone,” “deep in this dark forest?”

  The question wasn’t really a question—it was a probe. A test. A trap.

  D’Angelo’s breath hitched as the bushes nearby rustled again. One wolf, then two, then four—six more wolves crept into view, forming a loose ring around him. Their eyes glinted in the low light, unblinking. They moved with the same calm hunger as their leader, shadows on four legs.

  D’Angelo’s chest tightened.

  The lead wolf continued circling until it stood just inches from his face. He could see the individual hairs on its snout, the rise and fall of its breath. Its eyes glowed like lanterns.

  “Is he lost?”

  Its mouth curled into something almost like a grin. Thick strands of saliva glistened at the corners of its jaws.

  “Ah… I care little. For he has come,”“in time for dinner.”

  D’Angelo’s knees wobbled. He couldn’t tell if the pounding in his ears was his heartbeat or the rush of blood as panic surged through him again. Lips parted, a scream rising in his throat, the last desperate cry for help he might ever have.

  But then—

  “Stop.”

  The voice was sudden, deep, and unnatural. It rolled through the forest like thunder under the earth, vibrating through D’Angelo’s bones.

  The world went black.

  Not just dark—but gone. The trees vanished. The glowing fungi dimmed into nothing. Even the wolves seemed like shadows swallowed by deeper shadows.

  D’Angelo’s breath caught. He couldn’t see Jeremiah, but he felt him—everywhere. The voice came again, echoing from all directions.

  “Do not harm the boy. He is of my pack. If you wish to harm him… you mean war.”

  

  The wolves froze.

  The leader’s golden eyes flicked left and right, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from. The others lowered their bodies slightly, tails twitching with uncertainty. Only the lead wolf spoke.

  “Calm yourself, human,”“I was merely giving the pup a lesson.”

  

  A beat of silence. Then Jeremiah’s voice responded, colder now.

  “So why did you threaten to eat him?”

  

  The leader growled low in his throat, not in anger—but in reluctance.

  “Because lost pups… get eaten.”

  

  The blackness remained, thick and absolute, like the forest itself held its breath.