Chester stood at the edge of the woods, overlooking the grassy field that stretched toward the far treeline. His sharp eyes scanned the forest’s edge, his spear clutched tightly in both hands.

  Kleo and Jack had been gone for almost four days, and an uneasy silence hung over the village. Every Woog felt the weight of their absence, their collective breath held in tense anticipation of their return. Chester's gut churned with worry—not only for them but for the village's safety. If the wolf returned, it could mean disaster for everyone.

  The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

  And then, as though summoned by his darkest fears, a hulking shadow emerged from the distant treeline. It was unmistakable—the wolf. Even across the distance, its immense size and shaggy black fur were impossible to mistake. Chester froze, his heart pounding as the beast locked eyes with him. Even from this far away, he felt the weight of its gaze, a cold dread crawling up his spine.

  If it decided to attack, there was no chance anyone from the village would make it in time to help. Damn, Willard, Chester thought. The fool had abandoned him to fetch snacks, leaving him alone on watch. Typical.

  Instinctively, he began to raise his spear, preparing to call the alarm, when another figure emerged beside the wolf. Chester blinked, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. It was Kleo—there was no mistaking her either—but why in the name of the gods was she walking so close to that monstrous beast?

  His voice caught in his throat, his panic twisting into confusion. He lowered the spear, his fingers trembling. As Kleo came into clearer view, she raised her arm, signaling with the same gesture the Woogs used to convey friend. Chester hesitated, unsure whether to return the sign. His gaze darted back to the wolf, which stood still, its amber eyes scanning the field. The sight of its calm demeanor only unsettled him further.

  Kleo turned to the wolf, speaking to it as if addressing a trusted companion. Then, with a gentle nudge of her hand, the beast began moving forward, pulling a crude litter behind it. Chester’s breath hitched as he realized who was lying on the litter.

  Jack.

  The sight broke Chester’s paralysis. His fear melted into urgency as he dropped his spear and scrambled to sound the alarm. Raising his hand to his lips, he voiced a series of sharp squawks and trilling whistles that echoed through the woods. These were the signals to summon help. He didn’t wait to see if anyone heard; he kept whistling, his heart racing, hoping half the village would arrive within minutes.

  As the pair and their new companion drew closer, Chester’s panic began to ease, replaced by a growing sense of awe. Pulling the litter steadily, the wolf seemed less threatening and more of a protector. The way Kleo walked beside it—calm and resolute—made him question everything he thought he understood about the beast.

  What in the world had happened out there?

  Jack awoke, caught in the soft drift between sleep and consciousness. Part of him clung to the comforting haze of his dreams, reluctant to surface. He was aware of himself in fragments—small pieces of Jack, floating untethered. His identity struggled to coalesce.

  Jack. Yes, I’m Jack.

  That certainty anchored him. Though his surroundings felt distant, he began to orient himself, a blend of familiar sounds and smells that refused to solidify.

  He stirred, moaning softly, and tried to open his eyes. The effort felt monumental, like he had weights tied to his lids. His body begged to retreat into rest, but a stronger will urged him forward.

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  Minutes—or hours—passed before his eyes fluttered open and stayed that way.

  The world around him was dim, but recognition lurched, piece by piece. He lay in a narrow bed, small and humble, the proportions suited for someone much smaller than himself.

  Woogs. Yes, the Woog village.

  It made sense. He had been here before, hadn’t he? Turning his head, still woozy, he scanned the room. His movements were sluggish, his thoughts swimming through molasses.

  Someone sat nearby, sprawled in a chair, their head tilted to one side, hair cascading over their face.

  Kleo. It’s Kleo.

  Relief washed over him. She was here. Sleeping.

  He tried to lift his head, but his muscles protested, weak and uncooperative. Frustrated, he let it fall back onto the pillow with a sigh. She was close, though—close enough to reach. Summoning what strength he could muster, he extended his foot, giving her a gentle nudge.

  Her eyes shot open, startled, scanning the room before landing on him.

  "Hey," he croaked, his voice a rough whisper.

  Her expression softened, tears springing to her eyes.

  "Jack," she breathed, his name a prayer, a plea, and a release all at once.

  She slid from the chair and knelt beside the bed, taking his hand in hers. Then, with tender care, she kissed him on his lips, forehead, eyelids, and cheeks. Each kiss felt like a promise, a confirmation that he was alive, that they were still here.

  When she finished, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, her body trembling as sobs wracked her. He didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he mustered the strength to move his arm, resting it against her back, holding her close as best he could.

  The world fell away momentarily, leaving only the two of them. And for now, that was enough.

  The next time Jack stirred from his sleep, his awareness was sharper. He felt more connected to himself and the world around him. He knew he was in the Woog village, and Kleo had been with him, her presence a source of comfort.

  He was sick—he didn’t know exactly why—but he knew he’d been bedridden for what felt like an eternity.

  A strange, musky scent filled the room, soggy and unfamiliar. It was different than the soft herbal aromas he associated with the Woogs. Curious and uneasy, Jack opened his eyes, expecting to find one of his small caretakers nearby.

  Instead, he locked eyes with the wolf.

  Jack froze. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing. The massive creature sat not far from his bed, its golden eyes watching him.

  What the hell is going on? he thought, his muscles tensing.

  The wolf’s head tilted as if studying him; then its lips curled back to reveal sharp fangs. Its eyes narrowed, and a low, guttural growl rumbled from its chest, vibrating through the small room.

  Instinctively, Jack tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. His body protested even the slight movement, and he let out a strained, “Help?”

  Kleo’s voice floated in from the next room. “Bitter?”

  The wolf’s ears twitched, and a moment later, Kleo appeared in the doorway, her expression shifting from concern to mild amusement as she took in the scene.

  “Bitter, don’t scare poor Jack,” she scolded. “He’s not feeling well.”

  At her words, the wolf relaxed, lowering its hackles. It sniffed at Jack before retreating to a corner of the room, where it flopped onto the floor with a heavy thud. Even so, its eyes remained fixed on Jack, unwavering and watchful.

  “I’d ask what was going on,” Jack rasped, “but it seems pretty clear you made a new friend.”

  Kleo smiled, stepping closer to the bed. “His name is Bitter, and he’s a very good boy.”

  “You named him Bitter?” Jack asked, raising a brow.

  “Well, technically, you did,” she replied with a casual shrug.

  Jack frowned, sifting through his foggy memory. Had he?

  Kleo didn’t wait for him to work it out. “Feeling hungry?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

  “Yeah,” Jack admitted. “Would it be all right if I ate something?”

  Kleo’s face beamed with a radiant smile, his love for her aching his chest.

  “Oh, husband, it would be wonderful if you ate something.”

  She turned to leave, but a short, guttural sound from Bitter stopped her in her tracks. She glanced at the wolf, who had lifted his head, staring at her expectantly.

  “Yes, Bitter, I’ll fetch something for you too,” she said with a small laugh. She gave Jack one last glance before disappearing through the doorway.

  Jack turned his head toward the wolf, who met his gaze with a smug sneer.

  “Really?” Jack muttered.

  The wolf blinked, unconcerned.

  Jack let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he settled back against the pillows.

  “We’re going to have to figure this out,” he said, closing his eyes. Bitter’s low huff seemed to agree.