3. The Waterfall's Silent Stalker

Once again, my heart leapt into my throat. I slowly set my book down on the bench seat, my gaze locking onto the piercing eyes of the wolf. Panic crept up my spine as my heartbeat quickened. With shaking hands, I rose and drew the thin lace curtains closed—though I knew it was a futile attempt at protection. Curiously, I lifted the fabric slightly, peeking through the delicate folds, hoping it had been my imagination. But reality proved me wrong. The wolf had moved—now sitting directly beneath my window, its glowing eyes fixed on me. A strangled gasp escaped my lips, and I stumbled back, pressing myself against the wall. I glanced at the clock. 6:23. The sun would be up soon.

Maybe it would leave.

I slid down the wall and sat there, knees drawn to my chest, until exhaustion overtook me. My heavy eyelids shut, and I drifted into a restless sleep.

Sunlight pierced through my window, a warm path stretching across the floor and touching my shoulder. I blinked, groggy, the memory of last night returning in a sharp rush. I shivered. Summoning my courage, I crept to the window and dared to peek outside.

Gone.

Finally.

With a relieved sigh, I sat at my desk and dabbed concealer onto my chin, covering the evidence of the night before. I threw on a sweater and sweatpants to hide the cuts and stepped into my slippers before heading downstairs. The house was silent. So quiet, I could hear the faint groan of the structure settling into its foundation. I walked into the kitchen and spotted a note from my dad and brother:

Audra, we went to the mall to get some more furniture for the house. We'll be back later.

—Love, Dad & Kai

Seriously? I can't believe they went without me. I huffed slightly in annoyance. Our house wasn't just empty of furniture—it was empty of my Mom. Her laughter once filled every corner of our home. Now, it was eerily quiet. We could've at least had our furniture shipped here, but dad said it was too expensive. I rummaged through the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets in search of food. Eventually, I settled on an Italian sandwich, eating absentmindedly as I stared out the back window. The weight of last night still lingered, pressing against my chest. Maybe a walk through the neighborhood would clear my head? Lacing up my sneakers, I stepped outside. I shivered as the cold air wrapped around me. Pumping my knees slightly, I tried to get the blood flowing. You can't be cold if you're moving, I told myself. I started down the street. Our small subdivision faded behind me as I headed toward town. The crisp morning air offered a welcome distraction. The walk stretched for miles, but my mind stayed blissfully blank. I had gone about a third of the way before I turned back. On the return walk, I strolled past the woods—surprisingly unfazed by their looming presence beside me. The rhythm of my steps soothed me. For a moment, everything felt… normal.

By the time I reached the house again, sweat beaded on my forehead from jogging the final stretch. My pulse thrummed in my ears. I collapsed onto the couch and flipped through the TV channels without really watching. No matter how hard I tried to focus, my gaze kept drifting to the window facing the forest. Something was pulling me back. A quiet, relentless force. Beckoning. Calling. And I listened. Despite everything—the fear, the terror from the night before—something inside me urged me forward. As if moving in a trance, I slid my feet into clean boots, opened the back door, and stepped onto the deck. I walked quickly. With every step toward the trees, my mind went blank, distant. It was like watching myself from the outside, a puppet on invisible strings. My feet carried me past the worn paths and deeper into the woods—into the unknown.

And then I saw it.

A breathtaking waterfall poured into a pristine lake, the water glowing in an ethereal shade of blue. Across the glassy surface, a small group of deer grazed in the clearing. Birds flitted through the air above, their songs weaving into the serenity around me. I stepped closer, drawn to the beauty of it all. Perching on a smooth rock, I slipped off my boots and dipped my toes into the water. A shiver traveled up my spine, sharp and sudden. It jolted me into the moment. For the first time since last night, I allowed my mind to wander.

Then—movement.

My breath hitched.

From the shadows emerged the same dusty brown wolf. Panic surged. But before I could scream, or run, or even breathe properly… something inside me shifted. Like a switch flipping, the fear drained away. Replaced by nothing. A numb, strange emptiness. My body loosened, my limbs going slack. What's happening? Why can't I move? I simply sat there, motionless, watching as the wolf approached. Its large paws left imprints in the damp earth. Its sharp gaze studied me, and its nose twitched as it took in my scent. I wanted to recoil. To move. To scream. But nothing responded. My body betrayed me. I collapsed onto the soft grass, my cheek pressing into the cold earth. The wolf moved closer. Its warm breath brushed across my skin. Then—to my disbelief—it began licking the dirt from my cheek.

What…?

Had I fainted while still conscious?

Was that even possible?

The wolf whined softly, nudging me with its nose, urging me to move. I willed my body to respond.

Nothing.

It licked my face again. Insistent. Desperate. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. Darkness wrapped around me like a blanket. And this time, I didn't fight it.

I let it take me.