Naeva Quinn

I wasn’t going crazy. At least, I didn’t think so.

But I also didn’t think wolves just showed up in people’s yards for fun and then vanished without a trace.

That morning, I skipped breakfast and grabbed my laptop. I searched: Snowridge wolf sightings. Not much came up. A few grainy pictures from years ago. One article from the late '90s said, “Wolf population near extinction in Snowridge area.”

Another article said they were “pushed out by noise, construction, and human expansion.” But that made no sense. The town was still surrounded by dense forest. And if wolves were really gone, why did I see one last night? Why did it look straight at me like it knew me?

At school, I visited the small library tucked behind the auditorium. Dusty, cramped, but quiet. I flipped through an old book on local wildlife. One page stood out:

> “Wolves were once deeply tied to Snowridge, often seen near the lakes during winter. Disappeared around 1974. Some believe they were hunted. Others claim they never left.”

There were old newspaper clippings taped to the back of the book. A headline read:

“Strange Sounds Echo Through Woods: Locals Blame Ghost Wolves.”

Okay, definitely not helpful.

But I took notes anyway. Something in me felt pulled to this. My blood felt warm in my veins in a way it never had back in Vancouver. My senses were sharper. I could hear distant footsteps in the hallway, smell someone’s peppermint gum from across the room, and sometimes, I swore I heard howling late at night. But when I’d check, nothing.

Something was happening to me. And it started the second I got to Snowridge.

I was still thinking about it when I walked into Room 201 for tutoring. The energy hit me the moment I stepped in. Heavy. Like walking into a room right after a fight.

Camden was seated near the window, chewing his pen cap like he wanted to break it. Theo looked up and nodded. Cassian gave me a small smile. Jax greeted me with a wink and a, “Hey, killer,” like he hadn’t been in the same awkward conversation I overheard yesterday.

Then, there was River. He was already staring.

I sat down slowly. The folder in my hand felt so heavy. I pulled out their assignments and passed them around.

“Today’s just a quick review,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Nothing too much.”

They started working, some of them more focused than others. Theo breezed through his worksheet like always. Cassian struggled with one question and asked me to help.

Jax doodled in the margins of his page. Camden didn’t speak at all.

Then River spoke.

“You smell different today.”

Everything stopped. Theo looked up in surprise.

Jax blinked. Camden snapped his pencil in half.

I blinked back at River. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t flinch. “You just… do.”

Camden stood up. “Enough.”

River looked at the table. “Sorry,” he muttered, not sounding sorry at all.

My chest tightened. “What is wrong with you guys?” I asked. “You act like I walked into your territory or something.”

No one answered. Camden grabbed his bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“Smooth,” Jax said to River, shaking his head.

River didn’t say another word.

By the end of the session, my hands were cold. Not from the temperature. From the tension.

I needed answers. After the last period, I walked around the back of the school, heading toward the gym. The snow crunched under my boots. The sun was already dipping low, painting the ice with streaks of orange.

Then I saw River. He stood by the fence, shirtless. In the snow. Steam rose off his skin.

I stepped closer, confused.

“River?”

He didn’t turn. Suddenly, his body shifted—spine stretching, arms twisting. His back hunched. Bones cracked. Fur sprouted along his arms. His face lengthened, mouth opening in a soundless growl. His eyes—those same silver eyes shone through the half-transformed shape.

I couldn’t breathe. My feet locked in place.

He looked at me, part-wolf, part-boy. And then in a blink, he was gone.

Vanished. No snow disturbed. No trace left behind. I stumbled back with a pounding heart beat.

This was real. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a story. Something supernatural was happening here. And I had just seen it with my own eyes.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again. River’s body shifting, the silver eyes, the bones cracking like twigs. It wasn’t a hallucination. I knew what I saw.

But when I finally drifted off, my mind didn’t rest. I was standing on a frozen lake. Snow stretched for miles. The sky was dark but full of stars, more than I’d ever seen. My breath fogged in the air. I was barefoot. The ice didn’t hurt—it felt natural and familiar.

Then I heard bowling.

Five wolves stood at the edge of the lake, their bodies tense, glowing faintly under the moonlight. They didn’t move, just circled slowly, steady too. Watching me.

My heart pounded really fast. I tried to speak, but no words came. I looked down.

My reflection stared back from the smooth, frozen surface but it wasn’t my face. Not fully. My eyes were glowing. Gold. Burning bright like fire trapped behind glass.

I stumbled back. The wolves moved closer, forming a tight circle around me. One black. One gray. One golden-brown. One pure white. The last was silver-eyed.

I could recognise that it was River.

They didn’t snarl or growl. They bowed. All five of them.

And somehow... I bowed back.

I jolted awake, sat up, chest heaving, sweat chilling my skin despite the cold night air. My room was dark, quiet, and safe.

Yet every nerve buzzed like I was still on that lake. I pressed a hand to my racing heart, trying to slow it down. Five wolves, golden eyes, a silent pledge—none of it should be real.

I rubbed my temples, but the picture refused to fade. Something inside me answered their call, a low hum behind my ribs. I didn’t know the rules or the reason, but I knew one thing: those wolf voices were bound to me, forever, maybe.

Naeva Quinn

A few weeks later…

It was my first hockey game, and honestly, I hadn’t expected to care. But Theo had casually mentioned it during tutoring, tossing out a, “You should come watch us tonight,” like it wasn’t a big deal. I’d shrugged, said maybe, and then spent an hour staring at my closet like I was dressing for a date. Which was dumb. It wasn’t a date.

Still, there I was—shivering on the metal bleachers of Snowridge Ice Arena, watching the Wolves storm the rink like they were born on skates. And technically, I guess they kind of were.

The Snowridge Wolves. Yeah, that’s really their team name. Subtle, right?

The crowd screamed around me, the sound echoing off the walls and ice. People waved signs and stomped their boots. I tried not to flinch when the puck slammed against the glass in front of me.

Ironvale High had already racked up three penalties, and we weren’t even through the first period. These guys didn’t play nice.

The Wolves, though? They played like a pack.

Camden moved with perfect control, fast, precise. Theo darted across the rink like it was all instinct. Jax played for the crowd, flashy and unpredictable. Kai hung back, skating with less speed but just as much purpose. And River—damn. River was a wall. He knocked Ironvale players down like it was personal.

Every time one of them touched the puck, I felt it. Like a thread tugging behind my ribs.

When Camden scored halfway through the second period, the whole arena went insane. People jumped up, chanting his name. But I didn’t cheer. I couldn’t. Because right as he raised his arms in victory, the air around me changed.

Something sparked.

My skin tingled. I gasped. My chest felt tight, like I’d been shocked by invisible wires.

No one else reacted.

I looked around. Everyone was clapping and screaming. It was just me, my body reacting like it had short-circuited.

And then came the hit.

An Ironvale forward, way taller than Camden, slammed him into the boards. The sound was loud. Brutal. The glass shook. Camden dropped to his knees.

I stood up, heart lurching.

He pushed himself up slowly, there was blood on his bottom lip.

Then he growled.

Not like a grunt. Not like pain. No, this was low, sharp, primal. It didn’t sound like it should come from a human throat.

Some people around me laughed. “That’s our Camden!” someone shouted. Another yelled, “Wolves bite back!”

But I was frozen. Because as he skated away, I saw it.

The ice beneath his feet cracked. Just for a second. Thin, spidering lines before it smoothed over like it had never happened.

I sat down slowly. My hot chocolate spilled onto the bench but I didn’t notice.

The rest of the game blurred after that. River blocked a goal with his body. Jax flipped a puck through someone’s legs. Theo moved like he knew where the puck would go before it did. It was almost... choreographed. Not natural. Not just skill.

The Wolves won. Barely. The final score flashed 4–3.

The crowd rushed out into the cold night air, buzzing and loud. I lingered, the inside of my brain still playing catch-up. My legs carried me toward the back hallway by instinct. The area near the locker rooms wasn’t marked, but I found it anyway.

I didn’t know what I was doing. Until I saw Kai. He leaned against the brick wall just outside the locker room door, one leg bent, the other stretched out. His jersey was off, slung over one shoulder, and he had an ice pack on his thigh.

He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

“You came.”

“Theo invited me,” I said, stopping a few feet away. “Didn’t know it would be... intense.”

He chuckled. “Ironvale doesn’t hold back.”

“I noticed.”

I glanced down at his leg. “You okay?”

“Old injury,” he said. “Gets angry when I push it too hard.”

I hesitated, then leaned against the wall beside him. Not too close. Just... enough.

“Camden growled,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Like an animal.”

“Yeah.”

I stared at him. “That’s it? No denial? No ‘you must’ve imagined it’?”

He shrugged. “Would you believe that?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

I folded my arms. “I saw the ice crack. No one else did.”

“I know.”

That caught me off guard. “You do?”

Kai turned, looking at me seriously. “You see things other people can’t. You feel things. Right?”

I nodded slowly.

“You’re not imagining any of this, Naeva. The energy, the sparks, the pull. It’s real.”

My mouth felt dry. “Why me?”

“I don’t know. But I was the first to sense it.”

“Sense what?”

“You.”

Kai set the ice pack down, then reached out and gently took my hand.

His hand was warm. Solid. He brought it to his chest, pressing my palm just over his heart.

“Feel that?” he asked.

His heartbeat pounded steady against my skin.

“That’s what it’s like when you’re near.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“I’ve never felt that with anyone else,” he whispered. “But with you? It’s like something inside me woke up.”

My lips parted. “What are you?”

He held my gaze. “We’re not just high school hockey players, Naeva. We’re not just boys with attitude problems and perfect teeth.”

He smiled faintly at that.

“You’re not just human. And neither are we.”

I pulled my hand back slowly, blinking hard. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

The hallway light buzzed above us. The door to the locker room cracked open, and I heard Camden’s voice inside. He was yelling at someone—River, maybe.

I looked back at Kai. “Is this why you guys are so weird around me?”

“We’re not weird.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He laughed quietly. “Okay, we’re a little weird. But yeah. You showing up changed everything.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Doesn’t matter. Fate doesn’t wait for permission.”

My head spun.

“Why me?” I asked again, softer.

Kai’s face turned serious again. “We don’t know yet. But we’re going to find out.”

He took a breath like he wanted to say more. But the locker room door slammed open, and Camden stormed out, shirtless, eyes flashing.

He stopped cold when he saw us. Me. Kai. My hand was still hovering awkwardly midair.

Camden’s jaw tensed. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Kai straightened but didn’t move.

“She deserves to know,” he said.

“Not yet.” Camden’s voice was low. Cold. “You’re rushing it.”

“She already knows something’s off.”

Camden’s eyes locked with mine. “You want answers? Fine. But don’t come crying when you realize what you’ve walked into.”

Then he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

I looked at Kai.

He gave me a half-smile. “That’s his way of saying he’s scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of what you mean to us.”

I swallowed hard. “This is getting real, real fast.”

Kai leaned back again, like nothing had changed. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Then he stepped closer. I could feel the heat from his body.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Kai whispered.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The air between us had changed, again. It wasn’t just tension now. It was gravity. A very strong pull. It felt tightening. Daring me to lean in.

And I did. Or maybe he did first—I couldn’t tell.

His lips brushed mine. It felt soft against my lips but then, something snapped.

My vision blurred like heatwaves rolling through winter air. My knees buckled. The hallway tilted. I gasped as everything spun, my heart was beating too fast, too loud. The cold hit me hard, through skin, through bone. I felt the world shift beneath my feet.

Then darkness enveloped me.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the hallway anymore.

I was lying flat on ice. Real ice. My breath came in sharp clouds as I sat up, confused, barefoot and freezing.

I was glowing too.

Faint blue light traced through my veins like fire. I stared at my wrist. I saw two bite marks, red and raised, pulsing like they were alive.

What the hell was happening to me? Growls echoed from the trees nearby.

I wasn’t alone. And this time... I wasn’t sure I was still human.

Naeva Quinn

I woke up to a ceiling I didn’t recognize and a smell that was strange. For a brief moment, I laid completely still, letting my eyes adjust to the dim morning light seeping through faded curtains.

My head throbbed with a dull ache, and my limbs felt like they were lifeless. The air smelled like old wood, coffee, and something faintly herbal, lavender, maybe. All of which reminded me of my grandparents.

A tall figure stood a few feet away, half-turned toward the door. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight. It was Jax. He looked… worried. It vanished the second our eyes met. Like a switch, his expression flattened into something unreadable, more stern and composed.

"You're awake," he said.

I tried to sit up but the world tilted hard to the left. A sharp wave of nausea rolled over me, and I slumped back with a wince. My hand instinctively reached for anything to steady myself, and it found Jax's arm.

His grip tightened gently around mine, strong and grounding. “Easy,” he murmured, helping me upright with surprising care. “You were out for a while.”

“What… happened?” My voice came out dry and hoarse, like I’d swallowed a fistful of sand. I cleared my throat, hoping the room would stop spinning but it wasn't the room's fault.

Before Jax could answer, another voice chimed in from behind him.

“You fainted,” Theo said, breezing into the room with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He was dressed in a loose grey t-shirt and jeans, his curly hair sticking out in all directions like he’d just rolled out of bed or never made it there to begin with.

“Scared the hell out of everyone. I told you to eat more than two bites of that gas station sandwich.”

I blinked at him, disoriented. Theo took a sip of coffee, then added with a smirk, “Might wanna get checked. Could be alien parasites. Or just iron deficiency.”

I almost smiled. Almost. But something inside me twisted instead.

I looked around the room. The walls were lined with yellow wallpaper, the kind with faded floral patterns that probably looked charming thirty years ago.

There were doilies on the side tables and a crocheted blanket draped over the worn-out couch in the corner. An old grandfather clock stood against the wall, ticking steadily in the silence between words.

It was a house with history. It felt inherited. Not lived in, not exactly, but held onto. “Where are we?” I asked, still gripping the edge of the bed.

Jax crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Our grandfather’s house,” he said. “He passed away a few years ago. We’ve kept it mostly untouched since.”

That explained the time capsule vibe. I wondered if they had memories here of childhood summers or winter holidays echoing in these dusty corners.

But I didn’t ask. I just nodded slowly and looked away, trying to piece together the last thing I remembered. My stomach dropped. River.

I scanned the room again, more urgently this time. There was no sign of him , My pulse quickened.

I wanted to ask him so many questions. The question burned on my tongue, but I couldn’t find the words. Jax was watching me too closely. I didn’t want to seem fragile.

Instead, I looked down at my hands. “How long was I out?”

“Almost a full day,” Theo replied. “We thought about taking you to a hospital, but… you didn’t seem hurt. Just exhausted.”

“River?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jax’s eyes flicked away, just for a second. It was quick, but I saw it.

“He’s not here,” he said, carefully.

That was all he offered. I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. The ache in my chest pressed heavier.

Theo cleared his throat and said something about making more coffee, disappearing before I could respond. Jax stood in silence, watching me like I might shatter all over again.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing myself to stand. I wasn’t. But I didn’t want to lie in this ghost of a house feeling helpless.

“You don’t have to be,” he replied quietly.

I turned away, pretending not to hear him. Then I suddenly remembered I had a family.

“My dad—” I breathed, nearly stumbling again. “He must be looking for me.”

Panic surged through me, I turned in a half-circle, scanning the room for a door but everything looked like a wall instead.

“Where’s the way out?” I asked, louder now, more desperate.

Jax appeared beside me with a faint frown. “Naeva, calm down.”

“I have to go,” I snapped. “God, he’s probably losing his mind.”

Jax nodded slowly, then gestured toward the far side of the room. “The front door’s this way. But Naeva…” He paused, watching me with unreadable eyes. “It’s snowing. Are you planning on walking back alone in that?”

I hesitated a little. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. My head was still buzzing with the panic of being gone too long, of not calling, of disappearing.

I didn’t answer him. Jax sighed, grabbed a jacket off a nearby hook, and tossed me another. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride back. The bike's warm.”

We stepped outside into a world dipped in white. Snowflakes fluttered down in lazy spirals, the air was cold enough to bite, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t think about anything except getting home.

The motorcycle was waiting at the end of a narrow path, slick with frost. Jax handed me a helmet, climbed on, and waited. I didn’t say anything as I slid on behind him, didn’t ask questions. My hands clutched the back of his coat, and when the engine growled to life.

Halfway down the road, I felt it. That feeling, It was faint, but unmistakable. I closed my eyes against the wind, swallowing the chill rising in my chest.

When we reached the end of the street, I saw my house before I saw anything else, its porch light still on despite the daylight, the front door slightly cracked open. My stomach twisted.

“Thanks,” I muttered, already hopping off before the engine cut. My boots crunched against the snow as I rushed up the walk.

“Naeva—” Jax started, but I didn’t let him finish.

I turned briefly. “Thank you,” I said, this time with a little more weight. He met my eyes for a second, then nodded just once.

I stepped inside and shut the door before I could look back. “Naeva!”

My dad’s voice nearly cracked in half. He rounded the corner from the kitchen in seconds and pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.

“Where the hell were you? I called everyone. I thought something—something had happened—”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

He pulled back, searching my face, but I looked away.

“I just needed to clear my head,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t believe it. But he didn’t press, either. Not yet.

I went to my room, shut the door, and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the dark window. My thoughts were too loud. Questions circled like vultures in my head.

Who were they really? What had happened to me? Why had I fainted? And why did I feel something impossible every time I was near them?

I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over to send a message to Theo.

But I stopped. I already knew what would happen. They wouldn’t answer. Not properly. Theo would make a joke. Jax would change the subject. Neither of them would tell me the truth.