Chapter Eight.

Flynn's POV

I freeze where I stand, caught between the shadows of the woods and the glowing eyes of the people in front of me.

“What should I do? I have to return. It can't happen here. It isn't safe.” Were the thoughts raging in my head. My heart slams against my ribs, harder with every second that passes. I feel like I’m standing on a ticking bomb—me. One wrong thought, one wrong breath, and the wolf might come through.

They’ll all die, either out of fear or out of my inability to control my wolf yet.

Somehow, I take a step further, and they all freeze.

Some widened their eyes, staring with intense curiosity on their faces, while others furrowed with concern—their eyes resting on me.

I could hear the silent sound of their heartbeat. It didn't show in their face but I knew they were so scared. From my side gaze, I could see a mother push her little boy behind her like a hen protecting her favorite chick.

Truly, I wouldn't blame them for staring so much. My appearance is wild, my feet are bathed in dirt and mud, my clothes torn and sticky with dried leaves from the woods. I did look wild… dangerous.

As my heartbeat increases, my wolf stirs beneath the surface, confused, panicked like me and because of this, clawing for control. I can feel her thumping and wanting to take over, to be in time to protect me but I knew I can't let her lead.

They’re not safe.

I shut my eyes tight. “Please,” I whisper inside my head, “don’t hurt anyone. Just listen to me. I’m not here to fight. They are not a threat.”

My eyes are still closed when I feel something touch my fingers.

I flinch, nearly allowing Fionna to take the lead out of fear—only to look down and see the tiniest hand holding mine.

A girl, maybe five or six, stands in front of me. She is beautifully dressed in a pink and yellow floral gown, her curly hair is tied with pink ribbons, and her cheeks are round with baby fat. She holds out a half-eaten piece of biscuit wrapped in her tiny hand to me.

“It’s the last piece left.” she says in a small voice, eyes wide and full of something I haven’t seen in a long time—innocence.

I stare at her for a second, neither moving or saying a word.

“It's really delicious,” she says shyly, missing out on the actual pronunciation. “You can have mine, you look really really hungry.”

My heart squeezes and something in me melts—cracks, then breaks open. I could feel Fionna finally pausing and being quiet inside of me… bit by bit she withdraws, no more raging, settling like a calm tide.

“I…” I swallow hard, kneeling slowly. My legs feel like jelly. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice shaking.

The girl smiles, revealing missing teeth.

A woman rushes over, her hands light on the girl’s shoulders. “Cathy,” she scolds gently, “come back now.”

“She looks hungry, Mama.” The little girl whispers as she returns to the woman who is standing out from the entire crowd.

The woman’s expression softens as she studies me. “Are you okay, dear?” she asks, stepping closer.

I nod, though my voice is stuck somewhere deep.

I look at the woman again, my wolf trying to discern if we could trust her or not.

She stood tall, a little taller than I am. Her hair is neatly braided and wrapped in a black and green vintage scarf. She looks like the kind who’s been through things, the kind who holds people together without asking for thanks.

As I take in her features, little by little the tension begins to quiet down and before I realise, a flurry of motion follows. People begin to gather again, no longer cautious but kind, warm even. Someone drapes a blanket over my shoulders. A man hands me a bottle of water. They ask questions—too many.

“What’s your name?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Where are your parents?”

“Were you in an accident?”

Their concern swirls around me like a storm. I can’t keep up.

“She’s probably a refugee,” someone murmurs. “Or maybe she got lost.”

“She doesn’t look okay. Should we call the police?”

“No!” I blurt too fast, too loud. “No police.”

The woman who scolded Cathy—clearly the leader—raises her hand, quieting the crowd. “Let’s give her space. No more questions.” Her voice is firm, more like that of a strict mother.

When the crowd dissipates, she turns to me, gently touching my shoulder. “You’re safe here, alright? We’re just having a little street gathering. Sit with us. Eat something.”

I nod again, unable to form words. My throat aches from silence and fear.

I watch as the joy and laughter I heard earlier returns to the gathering. The children dancing around the fireplace and the young men making sure the meat is being grilled just fine.

In less than a minute, someone brought me a stool near the fire and set a bowl of spicy roasted yam and sauce in front of me. The smell is overwhelming.

My hands twitch from the urge to snatch and devour it like an animal. But I don’t. I force myself to lift the spoon slowly, taking in the food bit by bit, my lips parting as the first bite hits my tongue.

Hot. Smoky. Sweet and peppery.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I eat in silence, feeling the warmth slowly return to my body. For a moment, I let myself exist in their world—a world of flickering lights, shared food, soft blankets, and harmless chatter. A world I had always craved for.

When the bonfire dims and the music fades, people start packing up, folding their blankets neatly as they pack up their seats and other items.

I didn't know how much I had enjoyed watching them until now. I didn't want the party to end. For once in my life, I had fun.

“Are you sure you don't want to come with us?” The elderly woman from earlier asked as she bent over to pick up the brown woven mat some of the kids sat on.

I nod.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll… I’ll return home.”

I’m lying, I know. But I don’t want to stay. I didn’t want to risk shifting in front of the humans. It would scare them to death.”

“Okay,” she finally agrees, although clearly not convinced but she doesn't push. “Please be safe out there.” she adds as she pats my shoulder softly before walking past me.

“Take this, I saved the last for you.” A man who had Cathy the little Child on his shoulder said as he placed a package containing a piece of bread and grilled chicken into my hand with a fatherly squeeze to my hands.

I thank them again and turn down the last street, into the quiet darkness.

Alone again.

With the warmth of the bonfire dying off, the cold air begins to sink deep into my bones. I hold up the purple shawl Cathy's mother had given me to reduce its effect.

The night is so quiet that I could hear any sound. My head feels clearer now… but something isn’t right. Somehow, I could sense I was being followed.