Chapter 16

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https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter Sixteen: School

When I woke up, something was different.

It wasn't just that I felt rested—though I did. It was deeper than that, something fundamental humming beneath the surface of my skin. My limbs felt light, like the weight of gravity had lessened its hold on me overnight. My muscles didn't ache; my thoughts were clear. I felt strong, but not in the way you do after working out or getting good sleep. It was like something inside me had been switched on, or maybe rebooted entirely. I felt… good. Really good.

But despite the clarity in my mind and the energy buzzing through my veins, I could tell—without even glancing at the clock—that I'd slept in. My instincts prickled with a subtle tension, an odd guilt tugging at the edge of my awareness, like I'd ignored an internal alarm. Old habits die hard, especially when you've grown up somewhere like the orphanage, where oversleeping meant missing breakfast—or worse.

I shuffled out of my room, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The cabin was unusually quiet, save for the low hum of the television murmuring from the living room. There, sprawled across the couch like she'd been part of it for hours, was Emily. She was watching one of those grainy black-and-white detective shows—the kind where everyone wears hats and speaks in clipped, mysterious sentences. Her expression was unreadable, same as always. It was a mask I was still trying to figure out.

She glanced over at me, and a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to join the living."

I followed her gaze to the wall clock. 10:12 a.m. Not horrible, but definitely past the point of "acceptable" in most households—especially one run by Emily.

"I'm letting you off the hook for today," she said with a stretch and a yawn, standing up like a cat after a nap. "You had a big night. But from now on, I want you up by seven sharp. No excuses."

I nodded without protest. That was fine. I'd woken up earlier plenty of times back at the orphanage—sometimes even before dawn when the younger kids started crying or the usual chaos of children. Seven sounded generous by comparison.

Emily wandered into the kitchen, her movements quick and practiced. I heard the metallic clink of dishes and the soft beep of the microwave. I sat down at the kitchen table, the wood warm beneath my fingers from where the morning sun had soaked through the windows. My stomach growled loudly, a reminder that I'd burned through more calories last night than most people probably did in a week.

Emily returned with a plate that looked like it belonged in the pages of a wilderness survival cookbook—or maybe a diner that catered to bears. Six fried eggs, perfectly crisp around the edges. A large thick pile of mashed potatoes, golden with butter. Strips of bacon so crispy they crackled under the fork. And a tall glass of orange juice that sparkled in the light.

She didn't say anything else—just set the plate in front of me and returned to her place on the couch, eyes locked on the TV.

I didn't waste time. I tore into the food like I hadn't eaten in days. Every bite exploded with flavor. The salt of the bacon was like electricity on my tongue, the yolk from the eggs rich and velvety, the potatoes buttery and warm like comfort itself. It was more than just satisfying—it was overwhelming in the best way, like I'd been tasting the world in grayscale before and now everything had shifted into full color.

Halfway through inhaling the potatoes, I glanced toward the front door. "Where's Richard?"

Emily didn't turn around. "He went into town, to pick up a few things."

I frowned. "What kind of things—?"

The door banged open before I could finish the question. Richard stepped inside, arms completely overloaded. Books, notebooks, pencils, folders—he even had a globe awkwardly tucked under one arm like he'd just robbed a classroom.

I stared. "What...?"

Emily didn't bother looking back. "Just because you're a werewolf now doesn't mean you get to run around in the woods all day like a wild mutt. I'm homeschooling you."

I blinked at the pile of educational material like it had personally insulted me. "You don't have to do that," I said quickly. "I can study on my own. Really."

Emily snorted. "Sure. Let's just leave your entire education up to a six-year-old with no curriculum, no structure, and the attention span of a squirrel. What could possibly go wrong?"

She stood and faced me, arms folded across her chest, her tone firm but not cruel. "Besides, I'm not just here to teach you fractions and geometry. I'm going to teach you about our world."

I stiffened a little. "Our world?"

Her expression didn't waver. "You didn't even know what you were until a few days ago. You think being a werewolf is just fangs and claws and running around on full moons? It's not. There are rules. Histories. Other things out there. Some of them might want to help you. Others... might not."

I hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. She wasn't wrong. Again.

Emily clapped her hands once. "Then it's settled. School starts at Eight a.m. sharp. Monday through Friday. You show up late, I'll start throwing in pop quizzes just for fun."

I turned to Richard, silently begging him with my eyes. He gave me that infuriating look—the one that said, You're on your own, kid. Good luck.

Later that day, when the sun had shifted and Emily had gone off on what she casually referred to as a quick walk, I found Richard by the door, zipping up a duffel bag.

"You're leaving?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Told Emily I'd only stay a for a night. I am lucky she let me stay for this long. She's in charge now. You'll be safe here—and busy, apparently."

I swallowed. "So... this is goodbye?"

"For now," he said, crouching down to meet my eyes. "You've got a lot ahead of you. But you're tougher than you think. And if anyone can survive Emily's idea of school, it's you."

I offered a small smile. "Thanks. For everything."

He ruffled my hair gently and rose to his feet. "Just don't forget—you're still a kid. It's okay to be one, even now."

And then he was gone.

I stepped out onto the porch and watched as his car disappeared down the gravel path, swallowed up by the forest.

But something about the trees, the wind, the silence—they all felt different now.

I wasn't just a visitor in the wild anymore.

I was a part of it.