Freddie's steps slowed as he walked down the hallway, his bag snug against his shoulder. A few students glanced his way, whispering just loud enough for him to catch fragments.
"Did you see the yellow-furred guy?"
"Kinda cute, right?"
"Bet he doesn't even know where to go."
He kept his eyes forward, heat rising faintly to his cheeks. Shifting the strap of his bag, he reminded himself it was nothing—just another day in a world full of chatter.
A tall, lean figure approached, moving with the ease of someone who belonged. A grin spread across his face, bright and a little chaotic.
"Hey there! You look a little lost," the voice boomed, friendly and unconcerned. Freddie froze, then nodded slightly, awe flickering across his expression.
The figure stopped a few feet away, hands raised in a casual wave. "Looking for your third-year class, right? Don't worry—I help people find their way around all the time."
Freddie glanced up. The student was a dragon—tall, broad-shouldered, with a tail flicking lazily behind him. The faint shimmer of black-and-blue scales along his arms caught the light, and wings tucked neatly behind brushed the hallway walls as he gestured.
"Name's Casey, Casey Draven" he said, offering a clawed hand.
Freddie hesitated, then placed his hand in Casey's. "Freddie... Bearlyn," he murmured, calm but steady.
Casey chuckled, a soft, easy sound. "Ah, Freddie. Good to meet you. Don't worry, I'm not like other 'dragoons.'"
A faint corner of a smile tugged at Freddie's lips.
As they moved down the hall, Casey jabbered easily, pointing out shortcuts and joking about campus quirks. Freddie stayed quiet, watching—the flick of Casey's tail, the shimmer of his scales, the way his wings flexed lightly as he turned. Whispers from passing students registered, but with Casey beside him, they felt less sharp.
Casey leaned closer, voice low. "Heads up—some of these folks love to gossip. Ignore it. Focus on your steps. First week's easier that way."
"Thanks," Freddie murmured, keeping pace.
Casey tilted his head, a playful spark in his eyes. "By the way, yellow-furred, huh? Makes life interesting... and easy to spot if someone's looking to annoy you. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your hiding spots."
Freddie blinked, letting a faint smile slip through. "I'll... remember that."
Casey laughed, shaking his head. "Kidding! Just don't expect everyone to be as chill as me."
"I can handle that," Freddie said softly, letting his gaze drift down the corridor.
After a few more turns, they reached a quiet intersection. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, dust motes dancing in the beams. Casey gestured ahead.
"Almost there. One more hallway, then your classroom. You're officially not lost."
Freddie exhaled lightly, shoulders easing. Having Casey beside him made stepping forward feel easier, somehow less like walking into a storm.
Casey flicked his tail, grinning. "So, first-week jitters? Or are you the calm, mysterious type secretly plotting world domination?"
Freddie offered a dry smile. "Maybe a little of both."
The final hallway stretched ahead, sunlight spilling across polished tiles.
"So," Casey asked, leaning slightly to avoid brushing a passing student, "first-day nerves? Or are you usually this calm?"
"Depends," Freddie said quietly. "Sometimes I feel like I'm... behind."
Casey snorted. "Behind? You've been here five minutes. Everyone's a little lost at first."
Freddie nodded. "I suppose..."
Casey grinned, flicking his tail past a bulletin board crowded with flyers. "Clubs, clubs, clubs. Personally, I avoid the cooking one—fire hazard, dragon thing."
Freddie's lips twitched. "I see."
Casey leaned in, voice a little conspiratorial. "Classroom's just through this hall and a left. Can't miss it."
Freddie scanned the door numbers, then the nearby students. Whispers floated, but they felt smaller, less pointed. Casey's presence made it easier to ignore.
Casey smirked. "Some will still size you up. Don't sweat it. You'll figure out who's worth noticing."
"I can do that," Freddie said softly, gaze drifting ahead.
Casey gave a playful nudge at the door. "Moment of truth. Go claim your seat, brave adventurer."
Freddie took a breath. "Thank you... Casey," he murmured.
Casey grinned, stepping back. "Anytime. I'll see you after class. Don't let the first week chew you up—that's my job."
Freddie slid into the nearest empty seat, cyan eyes scanning faces. Whispers and glances came, but he didn't flinch. He set his bag beside him and leaned back slightly, posture relaxed but alert.
Across the room, another faint murmur:
"Hm... interesting..."
Freddie traced faint scratches in the desk, his attention moving between the professor and the subtle rhythm of the room. Chairs scraped. Papers shuffled. Voices quieted. The murmurs became background noise, blending into the hum of the lecture hall.
By the time the lecture began, he felt centered. He had a place here, quietly, deliberately.
A student in the back—the one who had murmured—watched him. A coyote, tall, lean, slightly muscular. Sharp amber eyes met Freddie's for a brief second, then flicked away. Subtle, calculating, yet playful.
When class ended, the coyote approached, notebook under one arm. "Hey," he said, voice low. "Transfer student, right? Never seen yellow fur like that—from a bear, I mean."
Freddie lifted his gaze. "It's just... genes," he said softly.
The coyote smirked. "I like it. Name's up to you, or do I get to give one?"
"Freddie. Just... Freddie," he replied.
"Freddie, huh? Not bad. I'm Angelo."
Angelo leaned closer, voice dropping. "Heard a few whispers, yeah? Don't sweat it. Most people don't matter. The ones who notice, like me? That's where it gets interesting."
Freddie stayed calm, cyan eyes studying him. "I've heard... a couple," he said quietly.
Angelo's fingers drummed on his notebook, smirk lingering. "I know you would. Out of everyone, you seem... interesting. I'm usually on my own anyway. Friend, maybe? Up to you."
Freddie glanced toward the doorway, then back. "I see. Maybe..."
Angelo leaned back, testing the waters. "Good. I won't keep you. Maybe I'll see you again. Maybe not. Only time would tell, see you later thoughl."
Freddie nodded, voice low. "See you."
As Angelo walked away, the faint echo of boots lingered. Freddie returned to his desk. In the midst of whispers and strangers, Angelo's presence remained. Not heavy. Not intrusive. Just... noted. A spark of curiosity that had nothing to do with nerves or survival.
Freddie slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped into the hallway.
"Hey—Freddie!"
The voice cut through the crowd easily.
Casey stood a short distance away, leaning against the wall, wings folded neatly, tail flicking lazily. His grin widened the moment Freddie spotted him.
"Thought you might vanish into the academic void," Casey said. "No explosions, right?"
Freddie shook his head. "None."
"Good. Always a relief."
They fell into step together, the hallway busy but not overwhelming. Casey naturally adjusted his pace, steering them around clusters of students without comment.
"So," Casey said casually, "how was it?"
Freddie considered the question. "Quiet."
Casey hummed. "That can be good. Or dangerous."
"It was fine," Freddie added.
"Ah. High praise."
They passed a tall window, sunlight spilling across the floor in warm bands. The campus noise felt different now—less sharp, more distant.
"Anyone give you trouble?" Casey asked.
"No," Freddie said. After a brief pause, he added, "Someone talked to me."
Casey raised a brow. "Oh?"
"Coyote," Freddie said simply. "Observant."
Casey chuckled low. "Yeah... I think I know the type."
"That bad?"
"Not bad," Casey replied. "Just selective. Watches first. Could be interesting."
Freddie nodded, storing that away.
Casey stretched, tail swishing. "Alright. What's next on your schedule?"
"I've got time."
"Perfect," Casey said, grin widening. "Then it's my duty to show you the good parts of campus."
"The good parts?"
"Food. Quiet corners. Places people mind their business." He glanced at Freddie. "Trust me—they exist."
Freddie gave a small nod.
Casey clapped once. "Excellent. Stick with me, Bearlyn. Minimal chaos guaranteed."
They moved down the hall together, sunlight falling across the tiles. Freddie felt the day settle into something manageable. Between curiosity left behind and the easy presence beside him, college no longer felt like something to endure—just something to step into.
They slowed near a wide intersection, hallways branching in all directions. Noise softened as students peeled away toward their next classes. Casey checked the sign overhead, then glanced back.
"Alright," he said, tapping the map with a claw. "This is where I drop you off. From here, you're good."
Freddie nodded. "Thanks. For earlier."
Casey waved it off. "Anytime. That's kind of my thing." He hesitated, then added, "You did fine. Looked like you knew where you wanted to be."
Freddie considered it. "I'm still figuring it out."
"Yeah," Casey said with a grin. "Aren't we all?" He stepped back, already turning. "I'll see you around, Bearlyn. Try not to get lost again—unless you're doing it on purpose."
Freddie let out a quiet huff of amusement. "I'll try."
Casey disappeared into the crowd. Freddie paused, letting the space settle. Stone corridors, open stairwells, sunlight through windows—life continued around him. The hum of movement was alive but indifferent.
He took a breath and moved on.
The next hour passed quietly. He found a bench near the edge of the courtyard, watched students drift by, and reviewed his schedule. No whispers reached him here. No glances lingered.
For the first time all day, he felt unobserved.
When his next class time approached, he followed the signs to a lecture hall tucked deeper in the academic wing. Larger, older, tiered seating, high ceilings—the kind of room that carried the weight of years of voices.
Freddie chose a seat midway up, neither hidden nor exposed. He set his bag at his feet and settled in, watching as students filled the room.
Somewhere behind him, a presence lingered briefly. He didn't turn.
The lecture began. Notes came easily. Concepts clicked. Time moved as it should.
And yet—beneath the calm, something stirred.
Not tension. Not unease.
Awareness.
Whatever this place would become, it was already in motion. Freddie was no longer just passing through.
After class, he lingered a moment, watching the room empty. Chairs scraped. Conversations faded. The hum of the space thinned until it was only background noise.
Freddie gathered his things deliberately. Outside, light had shifted. Shadows stretched across courtyards. The earlier rush had mellowed; students lingered, sitting on steps, leaning against railings.
He walked without purpose, letting instinct guide him. Past lecture halls, down narrow corridors lined with notice boards, half-torn flyers. Water moved somewhere below—a fountain or shallow stream. He followed the sound.
The courtyard opened quietly. Ivy crawled along the walls. A low stone fountain murmured at its center, water catching light in fractured reflections. Students were spread far enough apart to feel like background texture.
Freddie sat at the edge of the fountain, elbows resting loosely on his knees. He watched the water ripple, reset itself, endlessly patient.
Footsteps crossed the far side of the courtyard. A pause. Then movement onward. Another presence lingered briefly at the entrance, then vanished.
Freddie didn't look. Didn't need to.
For the first time, the quiet wasn't something he carried alone. It felt shared—woven into the space itself. The whispers from earlier seemed distant, harmless echoes of curiosity.
He exhaled slowly.
College wasn't loud the way he expected. Beneath the noise, crowds, glances—there were places like this. Moments like this. Spaces that didn't demand anything from him.
He let himself stand finally. A strange certainty lingered beneath calm. The ordinary shape of the day was only a surface. Beneath lectures, whispers, chance encounters, something older and quieter stirred. Watching. Waiting.
Freddie didn't feel afraid.
If anything, he felt ready.
Whatever was coming—whatever this place demanded—he wouldn't meet it by accident.
He would step into it.