Chapter Nine

Lucy was avoiding her. Not just avoiding—completely off.

Ever since the night of that strange dream with the two wolves, Lucy had changed. It was as if their closeness had been a lie, like it had never really existed at all.

Shelly was beginning to wonder if she had imagined it—if she'd dreamed up all the moments they had shared.

But what worried her more wasn’t Lucy’s silence. It was her behavior.

If Lucy had just stayed distant, Shelly could have brushed it off. But now she could practically smell the anxiety rolling off her from across the room—and she had no idea how to help her.

She wondered if she should call him but was that the right call? She couldn’t betray her friend like that. She decided to wait till the next day if there was no improvement. From the corner of her eyes she saw Lucy freeze and begin sniffing the air glancing around with what suspiciously looked like fear but Shelly had never seen such expression on Lucy’s face so it couldn’t be possible right?

But as she continued to watch the fear on Lucy’s face continued to grow. And then Lucy’s body began to tremble.

It started with a slight shake in her hands, then spread up her arms, her whole frame going rigid like she was fighting something inside herself.

Shelly sat up straighter, heart pounding.

"Lucy?" she whispered, but her friend didn’t respond.

Instead, Lucy’s breathing grew ragged, her chest heaving like she couldn’t get enough air. Her nails dug into her palms, knuckles white as she struggled to keep still. Blood began to seep through her clenched fists, dark and slow.

For one terrifying moment, Shelly thought Lucy might fall apart right there—lose control.

Panicked but desperate to help, Shelly moved to stand in front of her, unsure of what to do. She hovered, hands trembling at her sides, close but not quite touching.

The heat radiating off Lucy’s body was overwhelming, almost like standing too close to a fire about to roar out of control.

Shelly closed her eyes.

She took a deep breath—and then another—releasing each with a slow, deliberate whoosh, over and over.

Minutes passed in a fragile silence.

Instinct took over.

Shelly began to sway gently where she stood, humming a soft, wordless tune—a song she didn’t even realize she knew, something old and comforting, like a lullaby carried by the wind.

Slowly, the tension in the room began to ease.

Lucy’s fists loosened. Her breathing steadied. The wild, desperate energy that had threatened to snap finally began to fade, leaving behind only exhaustion—and something else. Something Shelly couldn’t quite name.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and the cold returned—sharper this time, like ice slipping down her spine.

Deep inside her, something unfurled, silent and curious—leaning closer, until it whispered- finally.