When I woke the next morning, the hut was much brighter than before. Light seeped through the cracks in the walls, and a faint scent of smoke still lingered—like a reminder of the night before. I pulled the blanket tighter around me and tried to close my eyes again—but there was a knock at the door.

  "No one's home," I muttered, half-heartedly.

  The door opened anyway. Will stood in the doorway, balancing a tray in his hands. Steam rose from a cup, and beside it lay a piece of bread, some fruit—and on top of it all, a book.

  "Good morning," he said shortly, but this time there was a trace of warmth in his voice.

  I slowly sat up and looked at him, surprised. "Is this becoming a habit?"

  He shrugged. "Amelia was busy with Sacra. She asked me to bring this."

  He stepped forward and placed the tray beside me. I looked at it, then at the book.

  "'Pride and Prejudice'? Jane Austen?" I ran my fingertips over the cover. "Unexpected choice."

  "I thought... maybe you'd want to read something familiar. Something human in the middle of all this unreal."

  He lingered, not entirely sure whether he should sit down or not.

  I carefully picked up the book. "Thanks. That was... unexpectedly kind."

  Will met my gaze, and something in him softened. "How did it go? With Sacra?"

  I raised an eyebrow. "You're interested?"

  "Curious. That's different."

  I smirked. "She's... hard to read. Kind, definitely. But there's something beneath it. Like there's more behind her smile than she wants me to understand."

  Will nodded slowly, almost as if he recognized the feeling. "There is. She never says more than necessary. You have to read between the lines."

  "Have you managed to do that?"

  He looked away for a moment before answering. "Sometimes. But not always. She only lets in the ones she chooses—and even then... not all the way."

  We were quiet for a while. There was something in the air that I couldn't quite put my finger on. A shift. Not dramatic, but real.

  Will straightened up. "Eat. Rest. Read if you feel like it." He walked toward the door but paused. "I have an errand to run, but I'll stop by later."

  And before I could reply, he was already gone.

  I remained seated, eyes fixed on the doorway. The tea smelled fresh, the food was warm. And the book... the book felt like a gift. Not because I needed it—but because he wanted to give it.

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  I ate slowly, mostly just to pass the time. My thoughts kept drifting back to Will. The way he looked at me before leaving. How carefully he had set the tray down, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

  I didn't know what was happening, but something was shifting beneath the surface. In him. In me. And that scared me—maybe even more than the wolves or the curse ever had.

  When I finished, I got up to rinse the bowl. Outside, the fog hung thick between the trees, as if the forest hadn't quite woken up yet. I thought about the dream. The wolf. The man with the braid. His words still echoed in my mind:

  Follow the light of the moon. Not the darkness of the forest.

  I already knew how the darkness felt. I had felt it up close.

  I set the tray down outside the hut and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It smelled of earth, firewood, and something wild—like a world time had forgotten.

  My eyes were drawn to the path. The one that led away from the clan. To something else. Maybe answers. Maybe more danger. But not today.

  Back inside, I picked up the book again. When I turned it over, a small blue envelope fell out. I stared at it for a moment. It looked like it belonged to another world. With a pounding heart, I opened it.

  Meet me at the pond.

  No sender. No other words. Just that short line, handwritten in soft, swirling script.

  Will? Could it be from him?

  But why not just say it directly? And why the pond?

  I stared at the words for a long time. It could be a mistake. But something in me—maybe curiosity, maybe something else entirely—wanted to know. I rose slowly, dressed, and pulled my jacket tighter around me.

  I knew it might be foolish.

  But I went anyway.

  The path to the pond was narrow, lined with frostbitten leaves. The branches above stretched like arms across the sky, and the water I heard in the distance sounded almost unreal—still, almost like a whisper. Was it really Will who wanted to meet me here?

  When I arrived, the pond lay still as glass, framed by snow-covered stones and black trees. The mist still hovered like a veil over the surface, and in the muted light, the place looked like something pulled from a dream.

  Or a nightmare.

  I stood still. Alone. No footprints in the snow. No sounds.

  "You came after all," said a voice behind me.

  I turned quickly. Will stood there, half-shadowed by a tree, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was serious, but not threatening. More... uncertain?

  "Who else would it be?" I replied, defiant but slightly breathless.

  He stepped toward the water without saying anything. His movements were unusually calm, almost as if he didn't want to scare me.

  "I wasn't sure you'd find the note," he said at last. "Or that you'd bother with it."

  "I almost didn't. But..." I shrugged. "I'm too curious for my own good."

  Will gave a crooked smile, almost appreciative. "You're braver than you think."

  We stood in silence for a while. Only the gentle ripples of the water could be heard. Until he suddenly said:

  "This is where I used to come when I... needed to think. Before everything."

  "Before the curse?" I asked cautiously.

  He nodded slowly. "And after. Here I still felt like... myself. Not like the monster I became."

  "You're not a monster."

  He gave a short, bitter laugh. "You saw what I did to Zaine."

  "He tried to kill me, Will."

  "And I killed him." He looked at me, and his eyes burned with something I couldn't read. "What does that say about me?"

  "That you saved me," I said quietly. "You made a choice. A hard one, but the right one."

  His breathing deepened, but he didn't say more. Instead, he sat down on a rock near the water. I followed, the snow crunching softly beneath my feet.

  "This is the only place where things don't feel wrong," he said at last.

  I looked at him for a long time. There was something broken behind the surface, something he fought to keep hidden. I didn't know what I felt, but I knew I wanted to understand.

  "Will..."

  He met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw him truly vulnerable.

  "If there's a way out of all this," he said softly, "I hope it's you who leads us there."

  And for the first time, he didn't say it like an expectation.

  He said it like a hope.

  We sat there a while longer, silent, with only the wind moving across the water's surface. I glanced at Will. There was something new in his face now—something I hadn't seen before. Not just seriousness or anger. It was sorrow. And guilt.

  I didn't know what to say to ease it. Maybe there was nothing to say.

  "You're cold," he said at last, eyes fixed on my hands clutching the sleeves of my coat.

  "A little," I admitted. "But it's okay."

  He stood and held out his hand to me. I took it without hesitation. For the first time, it felt... natural. No pressure, no resistance. Just warmth. Human warmth.

  But then a crack echoed through the forest.

  We both froze.

  Will immediately let go of my hand and turned his head sharply. His eyes narrowed, and his entire body tensed. I felt my pulse quicken.

  "Was that one of yours?" I whispered.

  "No," he said flatly. His voice was sharper now. Alert.

  The sound came again, this time farther off—as if someone was moving fast through the underbrush.

  Will stepped in front of me, protective. "We need to go. Now."

  I nodded, and we started walking, quickly but quietly. Will kept glancing over his shoulder. I noticed how his nostrils flared—as if trying to catch something in the air.

  Suddenly he stopped.

  "Run," he said, low.

  "What—?"

  "RUN!" he barked.

  I started running before I could think. Branches scratched my arms, snow sprayed beneath my feet. I heard a roar behind me—deep and guttural. Not wolf. Not human. Something in between.

  Something... wrong.

  I heard Will growl—a sound so animalistic it made me stop and turn back—but all I saw was a dark blur of movement, and then... silence.

  "WILL?!" I screamed.

  No answer.

  I turned again and ran as fast as I could back toward the clan, my heart pounding in my ears and a growing terror in my gut.

  I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, barely staying upright as panic drove me forward. The trees blurred past like shadows, and the air burned in my lungs. Away from the danger.