Chapter 2: The Call of the Wild

The woods stretched out before me, their tangled branches like skeletal arms against the star-pierced sky. The journal’s leather cover felt warm in my hand, as if it were absorbing my nervous energy. Each step I took toward the clearing felt heavier, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on me.

What did Astra mean about my father being part of a world I knew nothing about? And how did I fit into it?

I tightened my grip on the flashlight as the cemetery gates creaked shut behind me, the sound echoing into the still night. The gravel path gave way to dirt, and soon the dense forest swallowed me whole. The air here was different—cooler, thicker, and laced with a faint scent of pine and something metallic that set my teeth on edge.

The clearing wasn’t far, Astra had said, but it felt like the trail stretched endlessly into darkness. I kept moving, the journal tucked under my arm and my flashlight cutting through the shadows. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made me jump, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just the woods. Nothing’s out here.”

But the eerie stillness that followed each sound felt like a lie.

When I finally stepped into the clearing, I froze. The moonlight pooled in the open space, making the ground shimmer like silver. In the center stood Astra, her posture relaxed but her presence commanding. She turned as I approached, her dark eyes reflecting the faint glow of the moon.

“You made it,” she said, her voice low and smooth.

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I replied, holding up the journal. “You said this belonged to my father. I want to know why he had it—and what you know about him.”

Astra studied me for a moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. “You’re a lot like him. Same fire in your eyes.”

“I’m not here for comparisons,” I said, my voice firm despite the unease twisting in my stomach. “Just tell me the truth.”

She nodded, stepping closer. The moonlight caught the faint scar along her jaw, a reminder that she wasn’t as invulnerable as she seemed. “The truth is complicated, Isla. Your father wasn’t just a veterinarian. He was part of something bigger—something that’s now part of you.”

I frowned, gripping the journal tighter. “What are you talking about?”

Astra tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Do you believe in werewolves?”

The question hit me like a slap. For a moment, I thought she was joking, but her serious expression didn’t waver. “Werewolves?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yes,” she said simply. “And I’m guessing you’ve felt it too—the dreams, the whispers, the pull to something you can’t explain.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my lips. How could I deny it? The dreams of running through forests, the strange sensations that had only grown stronger since Dad disappeared.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

Astra took another step closer. “Your father was connected to the Crescent Moon pack. He carried the mark of the Bound Alpha—the same mark that’s on this journal.” She gestured to the crescent moon symbol burned into the leather. “And whether you believe it or not, that connection is now yours to bear.”

I shook my head, taking a step back. “This is insane. My dad was a regular guy. He didn’t believe in… this.”

“He didn’t tell you because he was protecting you,” Astra said, her tone softening. “But his disappearance wasn’t random, Isla. He was taken because of what he knew—because of what he was.”

The weight of her words settled over me like a heavy fog. “What do you mean, ‘what he was’?”

Before Astra could answer, the wind shifted. A low, guttural growl rumbled from the trees behind her, sending a chill down my spine.

Astra’s posture stiffened, and she turned toward the sound. “We’re not alone.”

“What?” I whispered, the flashlight trembling in my hand.

“Stay behind me,” she ordered, her voice sharp and commanding.

My instincts screamed to run, but my feet refused to move. The growls grew louder, and a pair of glowing eyes emerged from the shadows. Then another. And another.

Rogues. The word surfaced in my mind, unbidden and unfamiliar, yet it felt right.

Astra stepped forward, her movements fluid and purposeful. “They’re here for the journal,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t let them get it.”

Panic surged through me. “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever it takes,” she replied, her voice laced with steel.

The rogues stepped into the clearing, their forms monstrous in the moonlight. They weren’t like any wolves I’d ever seen—larger, wilder, with eyes that burned like embers.

Astra moved like a shadow, her body blurring as she shifted mid-step. One moment she was human, the next she was a sleek, dark wolf with eyes that gleamed with determination.

I stumbled back, clutching the journal to my chest as Astra lunged at the nearest rogue. The two collided with a force that shook the ground, their snarls cutting through the night.

The other rogues advanced, their golden eyes locked on me. My heart raced as I scrambled for something—anything—that could protect me.

“Isla, run!” Astra’s voice echoed in my mind, though her mouth hadn’t moved.

The thought was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She wasn’t human anymore, yet somehow, I understood her.

I turned and bolted toward the edge of the clearing, the journal tucked under my arm. The sounds of the fight faded behind me as the forest swallowed me whole.

But even as I ran, a part of me knew this wasn’t over. This was just the beginning.