Chapter 3: Shadows and Claws

Elara couldn't sleep. The observatory's cot, a rickety thing of springs and sagging canvas, creaked under her as she tossed, the blanket tangled around her legs like a net. Her mind wouldn't quiet, replaying the wolf's golden stare, the howl that had shivered through her bones, the moon's stubborn refusal to follow its own rules. She'd tried to work after stepping back inside—scribbling notes, recalibrating the telescope—but her hands shook too much, her focus splintered. Now, hours past midnight, the ridge was silent, but the air felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike.She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and glanced at the clock on the wall: 3:17 a.m., March 31, 2025. The date didn't matter, not really, but she clung to it like a lifeline, a tether to the rational world she understood. She swung her legs over the cot's edge, bare feet brushing the cold concrete floor, and reached for her glasses. The lenses were smudged—always were—but they sharpened the room: the cluttered desk, the telescope's hulking silhouette, the window where she'd last seen it.The wolf. She couldn't shake the image, couldn't dismiss it as fatigue or a trick of light. She'd grown up on the edges of forests, knew the difference between a coyote's yip and a wolf's howl, but that creature defied every textbook she'd ever read. Too big, too deliberate, too… aware. Her sketch of it lay on the desk, the pencil lines stark against the page, and she traced a finger over its eyes, feeling foolish but unable to stop. "What are you?" she murmured, her voice a scratch in the stillness.A thud outside snapped her head up. Not the wind, not a branch—this was heavier, closer, like something hitting the observatory's wall. She froze, breath held, straining to hear. Another thud, then a scrape, metal on metal, slow and deliberate. Her pulse kicked into gear, a drumbeat in her ears. She grabbed the flashlight from the desk, its weight a small comfort, and crept to the window.The glass was fogged, her earlier breath still clinging to it, but she wiped it clear with her sleeve. The clearing beyond was bathed in moonlight, the pines casting long, jagged shadows. Nothing moved—at first. Then a shape darted across the edge of her vision, low and fast, gone before she could track it. Her grip tightened on the flashlight. "Raccoon," she whispered, willing it to be true. "Or a deer. Something normal."But the scrape came again, louder, from the door this time. She whirled, beam swinging toward the entrance—a slab of steel she'd reinforced herself, bolted shut against the wild. The sound stopped, replaced by a low growl, a rumble that vibrated through the floor and into her chest. Not a raccoon. Not a deer. She backed away, her free hand fumbling for the crowbar she kept by the cot. "Stay calm," she told herself, voice trembling. "Think."The growl deepened, joined by another, then a third—distinct, overlapping, a chorus of menace. Her stomach dropped. Wolves didn't hunt like this, not alone in the middle of nowhere, not at a human's door. But these weren't wolves, not the kind she knew. The door rattled, a sharp bang echoing through the dome, and she saw the bolts strain, metal groaning under pressure. "No, no, no," she hissed, hefting the crowbar. She wasn't a fighter—her weapons were equations, not iron—but she'd be damned if she went down without swinging.A crash splintered the silence, the door buckling inward as something massive slammed against it. Claws scraped, wood splintered—the frame giving way—and then they were inside. Three wolves, lean and gray, their eyes glinting yellow in the flashlight's beam. They fanned out, heads low, teeth bared, moving with a coordination that screamed intent. Elara stumbled back, crowbar raised, her mind racing for an exit, a plan, anything."Get out!" she shouted, voice cracking but fierce. She swung the flashlight, the beam jittering across their fur, and one lunged, jaws snapping inches from her arm. She swung the crowbar, connecting with its shoulder—a dull thunk—and it yelped, retreating. But the others advanced, cutting off her path to the desk, the window, the world beyond.Panic clawed at her, but she forced it down, years of discipline kicking in. She needed leverage, a bottleneck. The telescope—its base was solid, a steel island in the room. She darted toward it, dodging a second lunge, and pressed her back against the cold metal, crowbar trembling in her hands. The wolves circled, growling, their eyes locked on her like she was prey. "What do you want?" she demanded, though she knew they couldn't answer.A fourth sound cut through—a roar, raw and thunderous, from outside. The wolves froze, heads snapping toward the door, and Elara's breath caught. She knew that sound, that primal weight. The black wolf. It burst into the observatory, a storm of muscle and fury, its golden eyes blazing. It didn't hesitate, barreling into the nearest gray wolf with a bone-crunching impact, sending it sprawling.Chaos erupted. The black wolf fought like a whirlwind, claws raking, teeth tearing, its growls a symphony of rage. The grays retaliated, snapping and leaping, but they were no match. One went down with a whimper, blood pooling on the concrete; another yelped as the black wolf's jaws closed on its leg, dragging it back. The third hesitated, then bolted out the ruined door, vanishing into the night.Elara watched, rooted, the crowbar forgotten in her grip. The black wolf stood over the fallen, chest heaving, fur matted with blood—its own or theirs, she couldn't tell. It turned to her, those golden eyes meeting hers again, and she saw no threat, only a fierce, unreadable intensity. Then, impossibly, it changed.The air shimmered, heat rolling off it in waves, and the wolf's form blurred. Fur receded, limbs lengthened, and within seconds, a man stood where the beast had been—tall, broad, naked except for the scars crisscrossing his skin. His hair was black, wild, his face sharp and shadowed, but those eyes—golden, unmistakable—held her captive. He staggered, one hand braced on the wall, blood dripping from a gash on his side."What… what are you?" Elara whispered, the crowbar clattering to the floor. Her scientist's brain screamed for logic, for data, but her heart pounded with something older, something that recognized him beyond reason."Stay back," he rasped, voice rough as gravel, laced with pain. "They're gone. You're safe.""Safe?" She laughed, a jagged sound. "You're—you're a werewolf. And they—" She gestured at the bodies, the blood, the wreckage. "What the hell is happening?"He straightened, wincing, and met her gaze fully. "You saw the moon tonight. You felt it, didn't you? Something's wrong. They came for you because of it.""Me?" Her knees buckled, but she caught herself on the telescope. "I'm an astronomer, not—not part of this.""You are now." He took a step closer, then stopped, as if sensing her fear. "I'm Kael. And I'm not here to hurt you.""Kael," she echoed, testing the name. It fit him, sharp and wild. "Why did you save me?"His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face. "I had to. You're…" He cut off, shaking his head. "Later. You're bleeding."She glanced down, startled to see a shallow cut on her arm, red seeping through her sleeve. Adrenaline had masked it. "It's nothing," she said, but her voice wavered.Kael moved before she could protest, tearing a strip from his discarded shirt—where had that come from?—and kneeling beside her. His hands were rough, calloused, but gentle as he pressed the fabric to her wound. "Hold it there," he said, his breath warm against her skin. Up close, he smelled of pine and iron, a scent that stirred something deep in her chest.She stared at him, this man who'd been a wolf, who'd fought for her without hesitation. "You're real," she murmured, half to herself. "This is real.""Too real," he replied, a grim edge to his tone. He stood, offering a hand. "Come on. We need to move before more come.""More?" Her head spun, but she took his hand, his grip steadying her. "Where?""Somewhere safe. For now." He glanced at the door, then back at her, eyes softening. "Trust me, just for tonight."Elara nodded, dazed, her world tilting on its axis. She grabbed her coat, her notebook—instinct, not logic—and followed him into the night, the moon watching as a werewolf led her into a puzzle she couldn't yet solve.