LE LOUP ET LA FUGITIVE

Rosalee's Point of View

As I sit in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection, I can’t shake the heaviness pressing on my chest. My eighteenth birthday should feel monumental, but instead, it feels hollow. My life, nothing about it feels worth celebrating.

The girl in the mirror doesn’t look like someone turning eighteen. Her eyes are tired, her shoulders slumped as if carrying invisible weights. I trace the edge of the vanity with my fingers, trying to ignore the faint noise of voices downstairs.

A sharp knock at my door pulls me out of my thoughts. I don’t even have to guess who it is. Dameon.

“Come in,” I mumble, but before the words fully leave my mouth, the door swings open.

I glance at him through the mirror, frowning. “And what if I’d been indecent?”

He grins, leaning casually against the doorframe, completely unbothered by my irritation. “Oh, come now. I knew you’d try to wiggle out of today, so I’m not giving you the chance.”

I turn to face him fully, crossing my arms. “Do we really have to have a party? You know I don’t like drawing attention to myself.”

Dameon steps into the room, his smile softening. “Rosalee, it’s your birthday. You’re amazing. You deserve to be celebrated, even if you don’t think so.”

“I don’t see what’s so amazing about me,” I mutter, looking down at the floor.

He crouches slightly to catch my gaze, his tone shifting to something more serious. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And whether you like it or not, there are people downstairs who care about you. Let them show it.”

I sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I just… I don’t know, Dameon. It feels weird. Like, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

He places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Rosalee. It just has to be yours. Let’s take it one moment at a time, okay?”

His sincerity catches me off guard, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. Finally, I nod my head, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. But if this turns into one of those over-the-top things, I’m holding you responsible.”

Dameon laughs, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. “Deal. Now, come on. Everyone’s waiting.”

I take a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of my dress as I follow him out of the room. Maybe today wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

As I follow Dameon down the stairs toward the party, the noise of cheerful voices and clinking glasses grows louder. My steps are slow, hesitant, but Dameon’s energy is infectious. He glances back at me with a grin, and I force a small smile in return.

I can’t help but let my thoughts drift back to the day we met. It feels like a lifetime ago. I was sixteen, desperate and lost, trying to find a way to survive in a world that didn’t feel like it had a place for me. His mother, the head chef at the hotel, had seen something in me, a spark of determination, maybe, or just a girl in need of kindness.

She’d taken pity on me, speaking to the hotel owner and convincing them to give me a job. It wasn’t glamorous, helping in the kitchen, cleaning rooms, organizing linens, running errands, but it was enough. It gave me a sense of purpose and a place to belong, even if only on the surface.

That’s when I met Dameon. He was seventeen then, always hanging around the kitchen, sneaking bites of whatever his mother was cooking. From the moment he introduced himself with that easy, lopsided grin, we clicked.

Dameon is nineteen now, and somehow, in the chaos of life, he’s become my best friend. He’s so... human. Ordinarily human. It’s almost comforting, how uncomplicated he is. He doesn’t carry the weight of secrets or the burden of being different.

Of course, I can’t say the same for myself. I have to keep my secret from him, no matter how much I trust him. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him, I do, sometimes more than anything, but it’s too dangerous. For both of us.

Still, he’s my best friend. A great friend. The kind who makes you laugh when you want to cry, who pushes you to step outside your comfort zone, even when it feels impossible.

“Almost there,” Dameon says, pulling me from my thoughts as we reach the bottom of the stairs. He gives me a quick wink. “Try to look excited, will you? It’s your party, after all.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small chuckle that escapes me. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

I put on my best smile as Dameon and I step into the hotel’s conference room. The space has been transformed, streamers and fairy lights drape from the ceiling, and a banner with “Happy Birthday, Rosalee!” hangs above a table laden with food and a towering cake. It’s more than I ever expected, and I feel a pang of guilt for my earlier reluctance.

The room erupts into cheers and applause, and I do my best to look gracious, even though the attention makes my skin prickle. Dameon nudges me gently, his grin wide and proud. “See? Told you this would be great.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, instead giving him a quick nod before stepping further into the room. People immediately flock to me, offering hugs, well-wishes, and cheerful chatter. I mingle, exchanging pleasantries and thanking everyone for coming. It’s exhausting, but I keep my smile in place.

Even the hotel owner makes an appearance, shaking my hand warmly and wishing me a happy birthday. “You’re one of the hardest workers we have here, Rosalee,” he says with a kind smile. “You deserve this celebration.”

“Thank you,” I reply, my voice steady even though his words catch me off guard. It’s strange to hear praise when I’ve spent so long trying to stay unnoticed.

As the evening goes on, I have to admit, if only to myself, that the party is actually... fun. The music is lively, the food delicious, and for a little while, I manage to forget the weight of my secrets. People laugh and dance, and even I find myself caught up in the joy of the moment.

Dameon is everywhere, making sure everyone is having a good time. Every now and then, he catches my eye and flashes a thumbs-up or a goofy smile, clearly proud of his handiwork.

I can’t deny that this was exactly what I needed, a distraction from reality, even if only for a few hours. But I don’t think I’ll tell Dameon that. Knowing him, it’ll only inflate his already oversized ego, and I’ll never hear the end of it.

As the night winds down and the crowd begins to thin, I find myself leaning against the wall, watching the remnants of the party with a faint smile. Maybe, just maybe, Dameon was right.

As the last of the guests leave, the once-bustling conference room falls silent, save for the faint hum of the lights overhead. I glance around at the remnants of the party, empty plates, crumpled napkins, and a few half-empty glasses scattered across the tables. Without thinking, I begin tidying up, gathering plates and stacking them neatly.

I’m midway through folding a discarded napkin when Dameon’s voice cuts through the quiet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I turn to him, confused. “Cleaning, of course. What does it look like?”

Dameon strides over, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. He playfully swats at my hand, forcing me to drop the napkin. “Nope. Not happening. It’s your party, you’re not allowed to clean up.”

I lift my hands in surrender, a small laugh escaping me. “Sorry, force of habit.”

Dameon smirks, crossing his arms as if daring me to argue. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he grabs my shoulders and steers me toward the door. “Go. Enjoy the rest of your night. I’ll take care of this.”

“Dameon, I...”

“Nope!” he interrupts, practically shoving me into the hallway. “Out!”

The door clicks shut behind me, and I stand there for a moment, debating what to do. Part of me wants to argue, to insist on helping, but another part of me... craves freedom. After a moment of indecision, I make up my mind.

I head toward the hotel’s exit, the cool night air greeting me like an old friend as I step outside. The world feels different at night, calmer, quieter, more alive. I walk toward the forest, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound accompanying me.

Once I’m deep enough into the woods, far from any prying eyes, I stop and listen. My ears strain for any sign of movement, but there’s nothing, just the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Satisfied, I kneel beside a tree and carefully remove my clothes, folding them neatly and tucking them behind the trunk.

The shift comes naturally, as it always does, though it’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself this freedom. My body changes, muscles and bones reshaping with an ease that still amazes me. In seconds, I’m on all fours, my wolf taking over.

I take off running, the forest a blur around me. The wind rushes past my fur, carrying the scents of pine and earth. Every step feels like a release, a reminder of who I truly am beneath the human facade.

After a while, the burn of thirst pulls me toward the stream. I lap at the cool water, the ripples distorting my reflection. For a moment, I stare at the wolf staring back at me, golden eyes sharp and piercing, fur sleek and pitch black.

Memories flood my mind unbidden, of my first shift and the horrified expressions of those who saw me. The fear in their eyes, the whispers of “monster” that followed. I shake my head, dispelling the thought. That was then. This is now.

I turn away from the stream and take off running again, this time toward where I left my clothes. The exhilaration of the run lingers as I shift back to human form, the chill of the night air biting at my skin. I dress quickly, smoothing my clothes before heading back to the hotel.

As I step inside, the warmth of the building envelops me, grounding me once more. For the first time in a long time, I feel... lighter.