Naeva Quinn

I wasn’t going crazy. At least, I didn’t think so.

But I also didn’t think wolves just showed up in people’s yards for fun and then vanished without a trace.

That morning, I skipped breakfast and grabbed my laptop. I searched: Snowridge wolf sightings. Not much came up. A few grainy pictures from years ago. One article from the late '90s said, “Wolf population near extinction in Snowridge area.”

Another article said they were “pushed out by noise, construction, and human expansion.” But that made no sense. The town was still surrounded by dense forest. And if wolves were really gone, why did I see one last night? Why did it look straight at me like it knew me?

At school, I visited the small library tucked behind the auditorium. Dusty, cramped, but quiet. I flipped through an old book on local wildlife. One page stood out:

> “Wolves were once deeply tied to Snowridge, often seen near the lakes during winter. Disappeared around 1974. Some believe they were hunted. Others claim they never left.”

There were old newspaper clippings taped to the back of the book. A headline read:

“Strange Sounds Echo Through Woods: Locals Blame Ghost Wolves.”

Okay, definitely not helpful.

But I took notes anyway. Something in me felt pulled to this. My blood felt warm in my veins in a way it never had back in Vancouver. My senses were sharper. I could hear distant footsteps in the hallway, smell someone’s peppermint gum from across the room, and sometimes, I swore I heard howling late at night. But when I’d check, nothing.

Something was happening to me. And it started the second I got to Snowridge.

I was still thinking about it when I walked into Room 201 for tutoring. The energy hit me the moment I stepped in. Heavy. Like walking into a room right after a fight.

Camden was seated near the window, chewing his pen cap like he wanted to break it. Theo looked up and nodded. Cassian gave me a small smile. Jax greeted me with a wink and a, “Hey, killer,” like he hadn’t been in the same awkward conversation I overheard yesterday.

Then, there was River. He was already staring.

I sat down slowly. The folder in my hand felt so heavy. I pulled out their assignments and passed them around.

“Today’s just a quick review,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Nothing too much.”

They started working, some of them more focused than others. Theo breezed through his worksheet like always. Cassian struggled with one question and asked me to help.

Jax doodled in the margins of his page. Camden didn’t speak at all.

Then River spoke.

“You smell different today.”

Everything stopped. Theo looked up in surprise.

Jax blinked. Camden snapped his pencil in half.

I blinked back at River. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t flinch. “You just… do.”

Camden stood up. “Enough.”

River looked at the table. “Sorry,” he muttered, not sounding sorry at all.

My chest tightened. “What is wrong with you guys?” I asked. “You act like I walked into your territory or something.”

No one answered. Camden grabbed his bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“Smooth,” Jax said to River, shaking his head.

River didn’t say another word.

By the end of the session, my hands were cold. Not from the temperature. From the tension.

I needed answers. After the last period, I walked around the back of the school, heading toward the gym. The snow crunched under my boots. The sun was already dipping low, painting the ice with streaks of orange.

Then I saw River. He stood by the fence, shirtless. In the snow. Steam rose off his skin.

I stepped closer, confused.

“River?”

He didn’t turn. Suddenly, his body shifted—spine stretching, arms twisting. His back hunched. Bones cracked. Fur sprouted along his arms. His face lengthened, mouth opening in a soundless growl. His eyes—those same silver eyes shone through the half-transformed shape.

I couldn’t breathe. My feet locked in place.

He looked at me, part-wolf, part-boy. And then in a blink, he was gone.

Vanished. No snow disturbed. No trace left behind. I stumbled back with a pounding heart beat.

This was real. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a story. Something supernatural was happening here. And I had just seen it with my own eyes.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again. River’s body shifting, the silver eyes, the bones cracking like twigs. It wasn’t a hallucination. I knew what I saw.

But when I finally drifted off, my mind didn’t rest. I was standing on a frozen lake. Snow stretched for miles. The sky was dark but full of stars, more than I’d ever seen. My breath fogged in the air. I was barefoot. The ice didn’t hurt—it felt natural and familiar.

Then I heard bowling.

Five wolves stood at the edge of the lake, their bodies tense, glowing faintly under the moonlight. They didn’t move, just circled slowly, steady too. Watching me.

My heart pounded really fast. I tried to speak, but no words came. I looked down.

My reflection stared back from the smooth, frozen surface but it wasn’t my face. Not fully. My eyes were glowing. Gold. Burning bright like fire trapped behind glass.

I stumbled back. The wolves moved closer, forming a tight circle around me. One black. One gray. One golden-brown. One pure white. The last was silver-eyed.

I could recognise that it was River.

They didn’t snarl or growl. They bowed. All five of them.

And somehow... I bowed back.

I jolted awake, sat up, chest heaving, sweat chilling my skin despite the cold night air. My room was dark, quiet, and safe.

Yet every nerve buzzed like I was still on that lake. I pressed a hand to my racing heart, trying to slow it down. Five wolves, golden eyes, a silent pledge—none of it should be real.

I rubbed my temples, but the picture refused to fade. Something inside me answered their call, a low hum behind my ribs. I didn’t know the rules or the reason, but I knew one thing: those wolf voices were bound to me, forever, maybe.