TEETH BEHIND SMILES

Erin Greg Foster leaned against his locker, arms crossed, smug as usual.

“Where’s Ari?” Erin asked, slamming hers shut.

Greg shrugged. “Heard her place got hit last night. Cops were around. Broken door. Nobody answering.”

Erin froze. “She, okay?”

Greg made a so-so motion. “Weird Hale stuff. Maybe the forest spirits finally came for her.”

“Maybe the forest spirits want your brain back,” Erin muttered, brushing past him.

She texted Ari again Where are you? Call me.

Still nothing.

Then she remembered the message from last night. One line:

Don’t go into the woods. Ever.

And just like that, Erin wasn’t walking anymore she was running.

The Hale house looked worse in daylight.

Its front door was cracked, newly replaced with a temporary slab of wood and mismatched screws. There was no police tape, no signs of crime scene processing just silence, sagging curtains, and an eerie sense that something old had woken up inside.

Erin knocked once. Twice.

No answer.

She tried the handle. Unlocked.

“Ari?” she called out, cautiously stepping inside.

The air was sharp metallic, like ozone after lightning. And something else. Something she couldn’t name.

A soft sound movement from the hallway.

Erin spun. “Ari?”

But it wasn’t Ari.

A man older, tall, rough-looking stepped out from the hallway shadows, jaw tight.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice quiet but loaded.

“Who are you?” Erin shot back, retreating a step.

Before he could answer, Ari appeared behind him. Her hair was unbrushed, clothes rumpled, but her eyes her eyes glowed faintly in the half-light.

“It’s okay, Kael,” she said. “This is Erin. She’s... she’s, my friend.”

Kael’s expression didn’t soften. “Friend doesn’t mean safe.”

Erin narrowed her eyes. “Okay, tall, dark, and aggressive. You want to try that again?”

“Stop,” Ari said. “Both of you.”

She stepped closer to Erin, voice gentler. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Erin’s voice cracked. “You disappeared. Your house is wrecked. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

Ari glanced at Kael, who gave a sharp shake of his head. Not yet.

But Ari ignored him. “Come inside. I’ll explain.”

The Hale living room was dark and quiet.

Erin sat on the edge of the couch, watching Ari like she was a bomb that hadn’t finished going off.

“I’m not sure how much you’ll believe,” Ari said.

“Try me.”

Ari exhaled. “Something happened last night. Something... old. I’m part of a bloodlin my family has a connection to the forest, to a pact made centuries ago. There are creatures out there, Erin. Real ones. And they’re hunting people like me.”

Erin blinked. “Creatures.”

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me you’re what... a werewolf?”

Kael, from across the room, chuckled dryly.

“It’s more complicated,” Ari said. “But yes. Sort of.”

Erin leaned forward, studying her friend. “Your eyes. They’re still glowing. Do you feel okay?”

“I feel... different.”

“That’s not comforting.”

Kael spoke. “You’re not safe around her. The Thorns will target anyone close to her.”

“Then I’ll learn how to fight back.”

Both Ari and Kael turned to look at her.

“You’re serious?” Ari asked.

“Dead serious,” Erin said. “If this is real, I’m not leaving you to face it alone.”

Kael sighed. “Then you’d better meet the rest.”

The “rest” turned out to be hiding in a crumbling barn at the forest’s edge half-collapsed, overtaken by moss and ivy. Inside, the ceiling had been reinforced with metal beams, and lanterns hung from the rafters, flickering against the dark wood.

Two people waited.

One was tall, muscular, and scarred a jagged line cutting from eyebrow to cheekbone. His expression was guarded, but curious. He leaned against a support beam, arms folded.

“Jeremiah Voss,” he said. “Tracker. Pact born. You’re the Hale girl’s civilian friend?”

“Erin,” she replied. “And civilian? Rude.”

The second was smaller a girl with short, ashen-blonde hair in a braid and eyes like sharp glass. She wore heavy boots, tactical pants, and a pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

“Lyra Morn,” she said. “I’m the reason Kael still has a spine.”

Jeremiah grunted. “Second reason.”

Ari stepped forward. “You’re Pact born too?”

They nodded.

“Not many of us left,” Jeremiah said. “Most faded. Others joined the Thornes.”

Erin asked, “Who are the Thorns, exactly?”

Kael answered. “A rogue bloodline. They used to be part of the Pact. Now they think they can control it.”

“And they want me,” Ari said. “Because of my family.”

Lyra smirked. “No pressure.”

Training began before sunset.

Kael focused on Ari, helping her control the heat that surged under her skin. Her shifts weren’t full transformations not yet but her instincts were sharp, dangerous. They worked on breath, restraint, centring her senses.

Lyra sparred with her using dull blades and padded gloves, teaching her how to defend, when to attack, how to read an opponent before they moved.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah led Erin outside, to a makeshift range in the clearing. Targets hung from trees. Some bled red dye when struck.

“You ever fired anything?” he asked.

“Super Soakers,” she said.

He handed her a small crossbow. “Point and pull.”

Her first shot missed by three feet.

But her fifth hit centre.

“Not bad,” he said. “Keep practicing.”

Erin lowered the bow. “Why teach me?”

“Because you’re here. And if you’re staying, you’ll need to survive.”

She stared at the target. “What happens if I see one of them?”

“You run. Then shoot. Then run again.”

Nightfall came heavy and fast.

Inside the barn, Kael lit the central brazier, tossing in dried herbs that smelled like pine and smoke. He unrolled a map across the floor Hollow Creek, the town, the forest, the valley.

“The Thorns have outposts here,” he said, pointing. “They’re not a pack. They’re a hive. Led by Saris Thorne.”

Lyra added, “She was once a Pact matriarch. Broke her oath. Took followers. Said the Pact made us weak.”

“They hunt our kind now,” Jeremiah said. “Or convert them.”

Ari leaned over the map. “What do they want with me?”

“Control,” Kael said. “You’re a Hale. Your name carries weight in the old magic.”

“And your blood carries the mark,” Lyra added.

“Mark?”

Kael hesitated. “When you cut yourself with the silver blade, you did more than awaken your lineage. You reignited an ancient symbol.”

He pulled out a small mirror.

Ari rolled up her sleeve.

Under the skin faint, like a tattoo of moonlight was a spiral crescent flanked by three dots.

“The Hale Mark,” Lyra said. “It hasn’t been seen in over sixty years.”

Jeremiah whistled. “Looks like things are about to get messy.”

Far from the barn, in a forgotten church deep in the hills, Saris Thorne sat in a circle of wolves.

They weren’t just beasts they were human beneath the fur. Pale skin, sharp eyes, mouths that could speak or kill without warning.

Saris stood, cloaked in black, her hair braided with bone charms.

“The Hale blood has returned,” she said. “Red moor protects her. Others rally.”

One of the wolves growled. “Shall we strike?”

“Not yet.”

She walked around the circle. “They think themselves safe. They believe they understand the game. But they’ve only seen the board. Not the pieces.”

A younger wolf, half-shifted, asked, “Do we fear the old names?”

“We honour them,” Saris said. “Then we break them.”

She turned toward the altar, where a single candle burned over a book of torn vellum the Codex Pactum.

“She bears the Hale Mark. That means the forest itself may awaken.”

Silence fell.

“And if it does?” one finally whispered.

Saris smiled. “Then we burn it

Back in the woods, under a moon growing heavier each night, Ari lay awake in the barn, staring at the rafters.

Erin sat nearby, sketching something in a notebook.

“You, okay?” she asked softly.

Ari nodded. “Just... trying to figure out who I am now.”

“Same person,” Erin said. “Just with claws and cooler reflexes.”

Ari smiled. “I don’t feel like me.”

“You’re still you, Ari. Just sharper.”

Outside, an owl hooted.

And something else further off howled.

It wasn’t a wolf.

And it wasn’t alone.