Chapter 3
The chill of the evening air nipped gently at Ethan's skin as he walked back into town, the protective personality still in control. The hood of his worn jacket was pulled over his head, casting a shadow over his emotionless eyes. His steps were quiet but purposeful, cutting through the dim streets with a rhythm that echoed in the silence. The city was settling for the night, lights from quiet storefronts flickering like dying embers. He kept his pace steady as he approached the small convenience store near the edge of town.
Inside, the air was warmer and stale with artificial heat. He didn't waste time. Moving through the aisles with calm precision, he picked out a few of Ethan's favorite snacks: strawberry Pop-Tarts, sour gummy worms, and a cold can of sweet tea. He didn't care for the taste, but Ethan did. That was what mattered.
He paid without a word, avoiding the eyes of the tired cashier who barely glanced at him. As he stepped back into the night, he tucked the plastic bag under one arm, his other hand already stuffed into his jacket pocket. The moon had risen high, a pale guardian in the sky, casting long shadows on the empty sidewalks.
He hadn't taken more than a few steps when he heard it—distant but sharp.
A howl.
Not a normal one. This was deeper, more primal. A real wolf call… or something trying very hard to sound like one.
He stopped walking. His eyes narrowed slightly, the night wind brushing through his hair.
He didn't move toward the sound. Not yet. Just stood there, letting the sound echo in his bones.
"I'll find out who that is one day," he muttered under his breath, his voice flat, but with a promise hidden behind the words.
Then, without a backward glance, he continued home.
---
The house was quiet when he arrived. The porch light was off, the only light coming from the flickering television inside. Through the window, he could see her.
His mother.
She was curled on the couch, an empty bottle loosely gripped in one hand, her mouth slightly open as she snored quietly. A cigarette smoldered in an ashtray on the table nearby. Her face was slack in sleep, peaceful in a way that made his stomach twist.
He didn't stop to look long. Just unlocked the door with practiced ease and slipped inside, silent as a shadow. The air inside reeked of smoke and stale beer, the same scent that had clung to this house for as long as he could remember.
He passed her without a word, climbing the stairs slowly, the bag of snacks rustling faintly in his hand. Each creak of the steps felt like a whisper too loud, but she didn't stir.
His room was small—bare walls, a scratched-up dresser, a twin bed pushed into the corner. The mattress sagged in the middle. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and placing the bag of snacks carefully on the desk. Then he sat on the edge of the bed.
"It's late," he said to no one. Or rather, to someone only he could hear.
Inside, the voice answered.
"You done?" Ethan's tone was gentle, sleepy.
"Yeah. Brought you snacks. Sour worms, Pop-Tarts. That tea you like."
There was a pause, then a soft mental laugh. "Thanks. You didn't have to."
"I wanted to. You needed something nice today."
A quiet stillness settled between them. Neither said much for a moment.
Then:
"She hit you again, didn't she?"
He didn't answer.
"You're always trying to protect me from it. But I can still feel it, even if I don't see it. It's not fair that you always have to take it."
"You're the heart," he said plainly. "If I didn't take it, you'd break."
"You think I'm weak."
"I think you're still good. That's not the same thing."
Another beat of silence.
"I heard a howl in the forest," Ethan said.
"I heard it too. Not ours. But close."
*"Do you think… someone's out there? Like us?"
"Maybe." His tone remained even, unreadable. "We'll find out eventually. For now, we survive."
"Always surviving… never living."
"Living is your job. That's why I keep you safe."
Ethan didn't respond right away. The warmth of the snacks left on the desk suddenly felt like a gift too big for the kind of day he'd had. It made his chest ache.
"Okay," he said quietly. *"Can I come back now?"
"Yeah."
The transition was seamless, like flipping a light switch in the dark.
Ethan blinked and stretched his arms above his head. His muscles still ached faintly from the Protector's earlier release of anger, but he could ignore it. He stood, moved to the desk, and dug into the Pop-Tarts, chewing quietly as the Protector receded into the background.
They were good. Not great. But good enough.
Ethan looked toward the small window beside his bed, watching as the moonlight filtered in between the cracked blinds. Something about the howling in the forest still lingered in his thoughts. It hadn't sounded like any normal animal he'd ever heard.
He pulled the covers up and laid down, the snacks half-eaten on the desk behind him.
"Thanks for taking care of me," he whispered softly, eyes heavy.
The Protector didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
Ethan fell asleep with the faint sound of distant howls echoing in his memory, and the quiet, ever-watchful presence of someone else resting in the corners of his mind.
And for now… that was enough.