It started like any other day , quietly
Koda didn't speak unless called on. Teachers barely noticed he was there. He took the same seat at the back of every class, near the window where he could stare into the forest and pretend he was somewhere—anywhere—else.
It was gym class when the routine cracked.
Dodgeball.
Koda hated dodgeball. The coach called it "team-building." But really, it was sanctioned target practice, and Koda was the bullseye.
He was standing in the far corner of the gym, arms up, just trying to survive when it happened.
Tony grinned as he picked up a ball, eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
"Yo, mutt," he called. "Let's see how fast you flinch."
Koda braced himself. He didn't even look up.
Thwack!
But the hit never came.
Something flew across the court and struck Tony's ball mid-air, knocking it harmlessly aside.
Everyone turned.
A girl—someone new—stood at the far end of the gym, hand still raised from the throw.
She was tall, broad-shouldered, with bronze skin and a dark ponytail that whipped behind her like a blade. Her expression was bored, unimpressed.
"You throw like a baby deer," she said.
A ripple of laughter went through the class.
Tony turned beet red. "Who the hell are you?"
"Zara. New kid. You got a problem?"
Coach finally looked up from his phone. "Knock it off. Everyone on the lines!"
Tony shot her a deadly glare but didn't say anything else.
As the class broke into teams, Zara walked over to Koda like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Koda said, blinking. "Thanks. For that."
"No problem. I can't stand cowards who hunt in packs."
Koda smiled a little. "That's ironic, coming from you."
Zara raised a brow. "Why?"
"You threw that ball like a wolf."
She paused. Her eyes glittered just for a second—too sharp, too knowing.
"Maybe I am," she said.
Later, at lunch, Zara plopped down across from him without asking. She had a tray of food she didn't seem interested in eating and a habit of kicking her boots up on the bench.
"You always eat alone?" she asked.
Koda shrugged. "Kinda my thing."
"Now it's our thing," she said. "Don't fight me on this. I'm stubborn."
Koda eyed her suspiciously, but her grin was disarming.
She was weird. But weird in a way he didn't hate.
They talked about music, movies, the absurdity of their gym teacher's bald spot. Koda felt himself relax, if only a little.
But then she said something strange.
"You know, it's not always a bad thing… being underestimated. Makes it easier to surprise them when the claws come out."
He looked up, surprised.
"What did you say?"
Zara just grinned and shoved a fry into her mouth. "Nothing. You've got ketchup on your chin."
After school, Koda took the woods path home again. The long way. The quiet way.
Leaves rustled above him, dry and brittle like whispering bones. Birds scattered ahead of his steps. The air felt colder than usual.
He stopped.
Movement. Up ahead. Between the trees.
Not a person.
Not quite an animal either.
A shape. A blur. Gone as soon as it appeared.
"He's watching you."
The voice in his head again—closer now, like it had slid behind his ear.
"Who is?"
No answer.
Just the snap of a twig to his left.
Koda spun.
Golden eyes.
Just for a moment. Just long enough to make his chest tighten.
Then the forest was empty again.
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
Koda tossed and turned under the thin blanket in his corner of the room, the bruises on his ribs still throbbing with each breath. Wind howled outside the cracked window, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked—long and hollow, like it knew something no one else did.
By the time he finally dozed off, the dream had already started.
The forest was alive.
Not the dull woods he walked through every morning—but something older. Wilder. The trees were taller here, gnarled like ancient bones. The sky above was pitch black except for one thing:
A red moon. Full. Bleeding across the treetops like a warning.
Koda stood barefoot on damp leaves. He wasn't cold. He wasn't afraid.
The ground vibrated beneath his feet—footsteps.
Massive ones.
From the darkness between the trees, a shadow emerged.
A wolf.
Not just a wolf—a giant. Midnight black fur with streaks of silver across its snout. Eyes like glowing coals, deep and aware. Power rolled off it like heat from a furnace.
It didn't growl. It didn't bare its teeth.
It sat.
And spoke.
"You're late," it said.
Koda blinked. "What?"
The wolf tilted its head. "You were supposed to awaken sooner. The body kept you quiet. The pain… kept me buried."
Koda looked around. "I… don't understand. What is this place?"
The wolf's eyes narrowed. "This is the part of you that has been waiting. Watching. Growling beneath the surface while you shrank."
Koda stepped back. "You're not real."
A low rumble echoed from the wolf's chest. "Neither is the life you're living."
The wind picked up. The trees swayed like they were listening.
"There is a war coming," the wolf said, voice like breaking stone. "Your bloodline is marked. That man in your house? That is not your fate. That pain is not your end."
Koda clenched his fists. "You're saying what… that I'm one of you?"
"I'm saying," the wolf rose to its feet slowly, towering over him now, "that I am you."
"But… I don't remember. I don't feel like anything."
"You will."
The wolf took a step forward.
"You will rise."
Another step.
"You will tear through their lies."
Its breath was hot against Koda's face now.
"And you will remember what it means to be feared."
Koda stumbled back—but instead of hitting ground, he fell.
Downward—into fire, into shadow, into silence.
He gasped awake.
Drenched in sweat, heart racing. The window was wide open now, the wind biting cold on his skin. He didn't remember opening it.
Outside, the woods stood still. Silent.
But then—
A howl.
Not a dog. Not a coyote.
Something deeper. Wilder.
Calling.
Koda sat up slowly, his breath fogging the air.
He didn't speak. But in his chest… something stirred. A pull. A pressure behind his ribs.
And the voice?
It was gone.
But he could still feel it.
Watching. Waiting. Like the moon.