She Who Bears The Wolf's Mark

Chapter 1 - Wolf in My Backyard

Chapter 1 - The Wolf in My Backyard

My eyes fluttered open. The full moon hung high above a sea of shimmering stars, radiant and mysterious. I stared at it in quiet awe, my mind strangely blank but for praise of that luminous orb, Earth's faithful companion since the dawn of time.

Sleep eluded me. Something about tonight — though I couldn't name it — kept me awake, which was rare. The digital clock on my nightstand glared in bright red: 3:37 AM.

By 3:55 AM, I gave up.

I flung the covers aside, sat up, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. A chill raced up my spine the moment my bare feet touched the floor — a sharp reminder of the season. Moonlight flooded my room, casting strange shadows on the floorboards. I frowned at the window. Had I fallen asleep with the curtains open?

Shrugging, I went to the window, leaning on the sill to drink in the moonlight a little longer. The Evergreen Forest's trees swayed violently in the wind, their branches bending and twisting like dancers about to snap. The last of the autumn leaves scattered into the night. Above, storm clouds that had been forecast all week were nowhere to be seen.

Eighteen tomorrow, I thought, feeling a rush of giddy excitement mixed with unease.

Then something stirred in the bushes separating the backyard from the forest.

Something stirred the thick, evergreen, two-feet-tall bushes separating the Evergreen Forest from my house's backyard. Something big. Two tiny baby rabbits jumped out of the bushes and scurried away hastily, leaving cute immaculate paw prints on the snow in their wake. Whatever had given them cause to abandon their home moved once again, fiercely shaking the bushes like an earthquake until the leaves started falling off.

I froze, holding my breath as my heart thundered.

For no reason that I could pinpoint, I held my breath until my lungs screamed for air. Anticipation and excitement with a hint of fear bubbled inside me, the sleepiness completely eradicated.

Was it a deer? A coyote? An overgrown rabbit?

And then it emerged.

A wolf — enormous, black as coal, and impossibly graceful — padded into the backyard as though it owned the place, leaving massively large paw prints on the snow in its wake. Easily the size of a cow, its silky fur gleamed in the moonlight, the wind ruffling it like a field of wheat.

I stared, mesmerized. Even from up here in my room, I could see just how silky soft its coal-black fur was, beautifully reflecting the moon's glow. The wind blew at its glossy coat, ruffling it the way wheat swayed when a strong wind swept by. My hands itched to reach out, to feel that glossy coat under my fingers.

This creature was absolutely spectacular.

In my daze, I failed to notice just how close to the house the wolf had gotten until I was bending over the windowsill, trying my best to keep the wolf within my eyesight. Too late I realized it, and I gasped in alarm, barely catching myself from tipping out of the window.

The wolf looked up.

Our eyes met.

Amber eyes like molten gold, blazing and intelligent, locked onto mine — and everything inside me stilled. My heart stammered. My breath caught. I couldn't look away. Out of the blue, a strange, prickling heat flared across my back right where my birthmark was. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. A shiver skittered down my spine, intensifying the strange tingly sensation that I couldn't quite name.

The sensation grew sharper, thornier, the longer we stared at each other.

What was happening to me?

The room's lights flashed on.

Blinded, I squinted against the sudden light as I whirled around to see my mother standing in the doorway in her pajamas.

"Carly? What are you doing up at this hour?" she asked, her eyes too sharp for someone who'd supposedly just been sleeping.

How did she know that I was awake? It was almost like she'd been standing guard outside my room, a ludicrous thought which I quickly dismissed.

I stammered, still dazed. "There's... some kind of animal in the backyard."

"What?"

She was beside me in an instant, peering out the window.

"Yeah, it's right over—" My words froze in my throat. The wolf was gone.

"Go back to sleep," she ordered abruptly, her voice sharp, her face pale.

"But I—"

"I said, go to sleep!" she snapped.

Startled by her tone, I didn't argue. It was a rare thing for my mother to snap or raise her voice at me like this.

As I crawled back into bed, a long, haunting howl rose in the night air and I froze.

It wasn't just a sound — it was a summons, a warning, a shiver running through my blood. My birthmark tingled again, and something deep inside me seemed to... click into place.

I dared to glance at my mother's face.

She looked terrified.

Before I could ask, she turned and said flatly: "Lock the door."

When the door clicked shut behind her, I did as she said.

****

That afternoon, I still couldn't shake my mother's strange reaction. I sat on the couch, flipping through channels, my mind elsewhere. My parents were out, but for once, I didn't feel like going outside. My thoughts whirled, too loud to ignore.

When a loud, insistent knock came at the door, I flinched.

Grumbling, I went to answer it — only to find no one there.

I peered outside, half-expecting to see kids hiding in the bushes. But the street was empty... except for a white vase on our doormat.

It held pink roses dusted with snow.

Frowning, I picked it up. A plain white card was tied to one of the stems.

I closed the door, set the vase on the coffee table, and opened the card.

It said:

Dear Carly,
Happy 18th birthday. Be prepared.
We're coming for you.