The Howl That Chased Us

**Chapter Two**

The howl came again.

Closer this time.

It ripped through the forest like a living thing, low and powerful, vibrating through the soles of my feet and straight into my bones. Every instinct I had—what little of it I trusted—screamed danger.

Ember’s hand clamped around my wrist. Her eyes flashed amber.

“Run,” she hissed.

I didn’t argue.

We tore away from the riverbank, breath tearing from our lungs as we plunged into the trees. Branches lashed my arms and tangled in my hair, ripping free curls from their tie. The forest floor was uneven, roots clawing at my boots as if trying to drag me down. Behind us, the howl rolled again, closer still.

Rogue.

The word slammed through my thoughts, sharp and cold. Rogues were unpredictable, savage things—wolves without packs, without laws. They killed without reason and took pleasure in fear. Packs warned their young about them the way humans warned children about monsters.

My chest burned as the wolfsbane fought me, slowing my limbs, dulling my strength. Ember was faster, stronger—she always had been—but she stayed with me, pulling me along when I stumbled.

“Rose!” she gasped. “Don’t slow down!”

“I’m trying,” I panted, though my legs felt like they were filled with lead.

The howl rose again, echoing through the trees, and something strange happened. Instead of freezing my blood the way fear should have, heat bloomed in my chest. It flared bright and sharp, spreading down my spine, curling low in my stomach. My breath hitched—not from terror, but from the sudden intensity of it.

“What is—” I whispered, nearly tripping as the sensation surged.

Ember swore under her breath and tightened her grip on me. “Ignore it. Just run.”

We vaulted over a fallen log slick with moss. My foot caught on the other side and I went down hard, palms scraping against dirt and stone. Pain flared, real and grounding.

The howl sounded again.

So close I could feel it in my teeth.

Ember spun, placing herself between me and the trees, her body tense, shoulders rolling as if she were half a breath from shifting. “Get up, Rose. Now.”

“I—I can’t,” I said, panic clawing at my throat—not because of the rogue, but because the heat inside me was no longer contained. It pressed outward, like something stretching after a long sleep.

For a heartbeat, the forest went eerily still.

No snapping branches. No rushing pursuit.

Just silence—and the echo of that last howl vibrating through my ribs.

Ember grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. “Boundary stones are close. Come on!”

We ran again, slower now, every breath burning. The pack boundary loomed ahead, tall stones etched with ancient runes glowing faintly silver. Protection. Safety.

Home.

We crossed them in a stumbling rush.

The moment my foot passed over the last stone, the pressure vanished.

The howl stopped.

Not faded. Not retreated.

Stopped—as if cut cleanly from the air.

I collapsed onto the grass on the safe side of the boundary, lungs heaving, hands buried in the earth. My heart hammered wildly, but beneath it, the heat remained—coiled, watchful.

Ember paced a tight circle, scanning the tree line, her wolf riding close to the surface. “That’s not normal,” she muttered. “Rogues don’t just give up. Especially not when they’ve locked onto prey.”

I swallowed hard. “What if it’s waiting?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. I didn’t feel hunger. Or madness.”

She stopped pacing and turned to me, eyes narrowing. “Did you?”

I opened my mouth to answer—and hesitated.

What had I felt?

Fear, yes. But underneath it… something else. Something disturbingly familiar, like recognizing a voice you’d never heard before.

“I don’t think it was a rogue,” I said quietly.

Ember frowned. “Rose—”

“It didn’t sound wrong,” I rushed on. “It was powerful, but not wild. Not broken.”

Her gaze sharpened. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.” My hands curled into fists in the grass. “But when it howled, something inside me—” I broke off, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m probably just imagining things.”

Ember didn’t respond right away. She crouched in front of me instead, lowering her voice. “You felt something, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“The heat,” I whispered. “Like fire under my skin.”

Her expression shifted—concern bleeding into something else. Something almost like awe.

“That’s impossible,” she said slowly. “You’ve never felt your wolf. Not once.”

“I know.” My voice cracked. “That’s what scares me.”

We sat there for a long moment, the weight of the forest pressing in around us. Birds cautiously resumed their calls. The world pretended nothing had happened.

But my body refused to forget.

As we walked back toward the pack houses, dread settled into my stomach. Crossing the boundary meant returning to the Blackwoods. To chores, silence, and the constant sting of wolfsbane.

As if summoned by the thought, my steps slowed when we reached the house.

“Elena’s going to smell the river on you,” Ember said quietly. “And the dirt.”

“I’ll clean it,” I replied automatically.

She stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Rose. You can’t stay here.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.” Her grip tightened. “You’re eighteen. And after today…” She glanced back toward the forest. “Something’s changing.”

I looked down at my hands—scarred, trembling, human. “What if whatever’s waking up in me is dangerous?”

Ember smiled grimly. “Then maybe it’s time they stopped poisoning you to keep it asleep.”

The back door creaked open before I could respond.

“Elena’s calling for you,” Lydia’s voice floated out, cool and sharp. “You’re late.”

The heat inside me flared again—not fear this time, but something closer to anger.

I straightened, lifting my chin.

As I stepped inside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the howl hadn’t been a threat.

It had been a warning.

And somewhere beyond the boundary stones, something was waiting—for me.