Chapter 4

Raven (12 years old)

The last bell of the day always feels louder than it should. In a school full of werewolves, it’s a much quieter noise than in a human school. Even before we get our wolves, we still hear better than human children. 

But it’s not because of the sound itself, but because of what comes after it. Everyone starts moving at once, chairs scraping, voices picking up, the kind of noise that builds fast and doesn’t really seem to fade until you’re outside.

I take a little longer packing up my bag, partly out of habit but mostly to avoid getting swept into the massive crowd of students that are heading to the doors. By time I step into the hallway, Jax is already leaning against the lockers across from my classroom.

“You’re slow,” he says as soon as he sees me.

“You’re early,” I answer, pulling my bag onto my shoulder.

“I’ve been here forever.” He teases. 

“It’s been like… thirty seconds.”

“That’s still forever.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling a little as I walk over to him. “You’re dramatic.”

“You like it.”

I roll my eyes, giving him an exaggerated sigh, to continue his teasing. “I tolerate it.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

We fall into step together, moving down the hallway casually as everyone heads for the doors. The bright yellow paint on the walls is a stark contrast to the muted blue of lockers.

We pass classroom doors that teachers decorate to make them stand out. They’re all different, some are reflections of the teachers themselves, others just exaggerate the subject or grade they teach.

It’s loud at first, dozens of kids all crammed together but still moving quickly. Thankfully, it starts to thin out by the time we get outside, it feels easier to breathe.

The air is cooler than it was this morning, and I pull my sleeves down over my hands a little as we start down the path toward home.

“So,” Jax says, “you gonna tell me why you were staring at the board like that earlier?”

I look over at my best friend, Jackson Calhoun. Well it's more like I look over AND up. He shot up two inches taller than me last summer, and I still haven't caught up. Mom says I'm just a late bloomer, but I don’t think so.

His hair is dark brown, always messy no matter how much he tries to comb it down before school. It sticks up in the back and flops over his forehead, and he's always pushing it away when we're playing video games. I tell him he looks like a shaggy dog when it gets in his eyes, but secretly I think it makes him look cool.

His eyes are this light green color that reminds me of the jade frog figurine I found at the creek when we were eight. I remember thinking they were the exact same color and keeping the frog hidden in my pencil case for months, just to look at sometimes. When his wolf, Ansel, comes forward, they turn darker, like the pine trees we climb at the edge of the playground.

He's skinny as a pole, all knees and elbows when we run, but he's crazy fast at tag. The gym teacher says he'll fill out eventually, but for now he just looks like a colt that hasn't grown into its legs yet.

“I wasn’t staring.” I say, trying to brush off his comment. 

“You were.”

“I was thinking.”

He frowns slightly, “That’s not better.”

I glance at him. “You don’t even know what I was thinking about.”

“I don’t need to. You had that look.”

“What look?”

“That one,” he says, pointing at my face like that explains anything.

I swat his hand away. “That’s just my face.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, and you know it. You just don’t like it.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue again.

I mean he’s not completely wrong. Something did feel a little weird earlier. But I’m not even sure what it was, I just had a weird feeling. Even Callie couldn’t figure out why. I don’t really know how to explain it, so I don’t try.

“You’re doing it again,” Jax says.

“Doing what?”

“That thing where you go quiet and pretend you’re still listening.”

“I am listening,” I defend. 

“Raven.”

I glance at him, and he’s already looking at me like he doesn’t believe me.

“Okay… maybe not completely.”

“That’s what I thought.”

We keep walking, the conversation dropping off into something easier as we move farther from the school. It’s quieter out here, just the sound of our footsteps on the path hitting the occasional rock, and the occasional breeze through the trees.

I enjoy walking to and from school much more since I got Callie. I can smell the flowers from the meadow when the breeze blows in from the northern part of the pack lands.

I see Jesse walking toward us from the opposite direction, his pace steady, his focus straight ahead. Alpha Avery likes to have extra warriors by the school and usually has at least two family members from each age group. He’s the older brother of one of the kids in our grade, so I’ve seen him around.

But it’s mostly during afternoon training or when he’s with the other warriors. I don’t think he’s normally in the patrol groups that run on this side though. Since he’s older than us by enough to separate us in social circles, we’ve never really talked more than a casual hello. 

“Isn’t that Jesse?” Jax asks, nodding slightly in his direction.

“Yeah,” I say, still watching him.

At first, nothing seems different. He looks the same as always, moving the same way he usually does, and there isn’t anything obvious that should make me stop and pay attention.

But the closer our paths come to crossing, that weird feeling from earlier starts to deepen. It’s not strong enough to feel like a warning, and it isn’t sharp or sudden. It’s more like noticing something small that doesn’t fit, even if you can’t explain what it is or why it stands out.

I slow down without really thinking about it, and it takes Jax a step or two before he realizes I’m not next to him anymore.

“Raven?” he says, but his voice is distant, like he’s far away. 

I feel like I’m coming out of a trance when I answer him. “I’m coming,” even though I haven’t moved yet.

Jesse is close enough now that we should just pass him, maybe nod or say something quick like we always do, but I hesitate for a second longer than I should before I start moving again. 

There’s nothing actually wrong. Nothing I can see or point to. But that feeling is still there, sitting just under the surface in a way it hasn’t been before. 

I step forward just as we reach him, forcing myself to move normally.

“Hey Jesse,” Jax says easily.

Jesse nods once in response, his expression neutral, but something about the way his attention passes over us makes that feeling rise just a little more.

“Hey,” I say, a little slower than I meant to.

He doesn’t stop walking, and neither do we, but for a second it feels like something lingers as we pass him, like my attention doesn’t move on as quickly as it should.

By the time I turn slightly to glance back, he’s already moved several steps past us, still moving at the same steady pace.

Nothing about it looks different. So I try to just shake it off and continue heading home like normal. 

We keep walking, and for a few minutes neither of us says anything. The path opens up again as we continue to move farther away from where we passed him, and the quiet that follows feels normal enough that the weird feeling begins to recede. 

“You’re weird today,” Jax says after a minute, glancing over at me.

“I’m not weird.”

“You stopped walking for no reason.”

“I didn’t stop. I just slowed down.”

“That’s stopping, just slower.”

I shake my head a little, but I can’t help the small smile that comes with it. “You know that doesn’t make sense, right?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

I look ahead again, letting our conversation try to ease my mind, the feeling from before is almost gone. Only a faint echo of what is was still remaining. 

“He didn’t even say anything weird,” Jax says, not letting it go like he usually would. “You looked like he was about to attack us or something.”

I roll my eyes trying to downplay his reaction. “I didn’t look like that.”

“You kind of did.”

I wave at him dismissively, “I just thought something felt off.”

Jax snorts softly. “You say that about everything.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Last week it was the training field. The week before that it was our math teacher.”

“Our math teacher is weird.”

“She’s not weird. You just don’t like her.”

“I swear you’re just finding something to tease me about.”

He gives me a look, but there’s no real argument behind it this time.

“Whatever you say,” he mutters.

We fall back into an easier rhythm after that, talking about things that don’t matter much. By the time we get closer to where our paths split, the feeling from before is gone, but not forgotten. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jax says as we slow near the edge of the path that breaks off and leads toward his house.

“Yeah,” I say. “Try not to be early again.”

“No promises.”

“You won’t last thirty seconds without complaining.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he turns away. “Bye, Raven.”

“Bye, Jax.”

I watch him go for a second before turning toward home, adjusting my bag on my shoulder as I go down the path to finish the last couple of minutes of my walk home in silence. 

By the time I reach the house, I’ve almost convinced myself that whatever I felt earlier didn’t really mean anything. I’m about to take the first step up onto the porch, almost reaching the door, when I hear my name.

“Raven.”

I turn and look toward the edge of the property, my attention landing on him where he stands just inside the edge of our yard. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice him before.

“I didn’t hear you come up,” I say, frowning slightly.

“I wasn’t walking.”

That’s not really an explanation, but I know that’s all he’s going to say. 

I look at him for a second longer. He’s always there when he needs to be, and then he’s not, like he exists just outside everything else.

“You do that a lot,” I say.

“Do what?”

“Show up without anyone noticing.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his attention stays on me in a way that makes it feel like he’s assessing something. 

“It’s easier that way,” he replies.

I don’t really understand what he means, but I nod anyway and glance toward the door before returning my gaze to him.

“Are you here to train?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to change,” I say as I head up the porch to the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nods once, and I step inside.

The house is quiet when I walk in, and I call out that I’m home as I head toward my room, dropping my bag just inside the door on the way. Everything feels normal again, the feeling from earlier mostly forgotten as I head up to my room. 

I change quickly, pulling on clothes I can move in without thinking about it, then head downstairs and back outside, closing the door behind me as I step onto the porch again.

Rion hasn’t moved. He’s still standing in the same place, like he’s been there the entire time.

“Same as yesterday?” I ask as I walk toward him.

He gives me a single nod.

I get into position, preparing to stretch and go through the moves we’ve been working on the last couple of weeks. After about 20 minutes, he pushes off the tree he was leaning against and comes to stand a few feet in front of me. This means it’s time for sparring. 

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I take a breath and move first this time instead of waiting for him.

He adjusts easily, deflecting my first strike, but I follow through instead of pulling back. I pivot, aiming lower, forcing him to shift his movement instead of just blocking.

“Better,” he says, catching my wrist before I can pull away. “Don’t hesitate after the first move.”

“I didn’t,” I argue, twisting slightly to break his hold.

“You did. You thought about what to do next instead of moving.”

“That’s because you’re not exactly easy to hit.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, more arrogant then usual. “That’s the point.”

I reset, focusing this time on not overthinking it.

When I move again, it feels smoother. Less like I’m trying to remember what to do and more like I’m just doing it. He blocks again, but not as easily.

“That’s closer,” he says.

We go through it several more times, the rhythm starting to feel more natural. My movements come faster, more instinctive, and for a while, everything else fades into the background.

Then, in the middle of a turn, that same feeling from earlier surfaces, it comes on more quickly than normal. It doesn’t actually interrupt my concentration, but it pulls just enough of my attention that I hesitate without meaning to.

Rion notices immediately. Taking the opening that I didn’t mean to give him, and pins my body against his. One hand around my throat, the other holding my arms to my sides. 

He keeps me there for a second, but then releases me. “You paused.”

“I just lost my balance.”

“That isn’t what happened.”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I’ve just felt a little off today.”

He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t agree either.

“Again,” he says.

I exhale and reset, pushing the feeling aside as I shift back into position.

This time when I move, I don’t let myself think about anything else.

And for now—that’s enough.