Chapter 10

Calla's Perspective

Before training one day I found myself with my Aunt Anya for what she called her "orientation sessions."

"Think of it as supernatural education," she'd explained during our first meeting. "You need to understand not just what you are, but the history of our pack, your parents, the history or werewolves in general and our traditions."

The sessions took place in a room down a long path away from the packhouse that Anya had converted into a sort of classroom. Books about werewolf history lined the shelves, anatomical diagrams showed the differences between human and wolf physiology, and comfortable chairs were arranged for discussion.

Today's lesson focused on something I'd been struggling with at school and during my training sessions with Thorne: controlling my enhanced senses.

"It's overwhelming at first," Anya said gently, watching me wince as a motorcycle roared past the pack house windows. "Human environments aren't designed for supernatural hearing and smell. You need to learn to filter the input consciously."

"How?" I asked, rubbing my temples where a low-level headache had been building since I'd arrived. "It's like someone turned the volume up on the entire world."

"Practice and patience," Anya replied. "Here, try this exercise. Close your eyes and focus only on my voice. Let everything else fade to background noise."

I followed her instructions, struggling to push the sounds away, but gradually I managed to create a bubble of relative quiet around Anya's calm guidance.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much," I said, opening my eyes with relief. "But how do I maintain that when I'm at school or at home?"

"The same way you learned to ignore background noise as a human," Anya explained. "Your brain will adapt, creating automatic filters for information that isn't immediately relevant. It just takes time."

"We are learning," Lyra observed with satisfaction. "Each day brings better control."

These sessions and my training had become my anchor in an increasingly complex world. Anya taught me about the physical changes I was experiencing and provided a safe space to ask questions I couldn't voice anywhere else.

"There's something I've been wondering about," I said as we took a break for tea. "The night I shifted we talked about how rare Golden Wolves are. About prophecies about them.."

Anya's expression grew thoughtful. "Extremely rare. I've never seen one in person before, and neither has Alric. Golden wolves are mentioned in our oldest legends, but most modern werewolves consider them mythical."

"What do the legends say?"

"That they're bridges," Anya replied carefully. "Wolves destined to connect different worlds, to bring unity where there has been division. But legends are often more poetry than prophecy, dear one. What matters is who you choose to become, not what ancient stories might suggest about your destiny."

The conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. "Come in," Anya called.

Thorne entered, looking like he just wrapped up his own training session. "Mom, sorry to interrupt, but I’m ready to steal Calla for her physical training.

I'd already noticed changes in my physical capabilities—stairs that used to wind me barely registered, heavy textbooks felt weightless, and my reflexes had become almost supernaturally quick.

Thorne drove us back yet again to the old training facility.

"You're holding back," Thorne observed after I completed a series of precision jumps between platforms. "I can see you calculating each move instead of trusting your instincts."

"He speaks truth," Lyra murmured. "We are capable of much more."

"I'm being careful," I protested. "This is all still new to me."

"Which is exactly why you need to trust your wolf," Thorne said gently. "Lyra knows how to move, how to judge distances and weights. Your human mind is getting in the way."

It took several more attempts, but gradually I learned to let Lyra's instincts guide my movements. The difference was remarkable—what had felt like careful calculation became flowing motion, and the exercise equipment that had seemed challenging became almost effortless to navigate.

"Much better," Thorne said with approval. "How does it feel?"

"Like I've been living in a body that was only half-awake," I admitted. "Everything feels more... possible."

We spent another hour working on control exercises—learning to modulate my strength so I wouldn't accidentally break things, practicing moving quietly despite my enhanced size and power, and working on the subtle art of appearing normally human while using supernatural abilities.

"The key," Thorne explained as we cooled down, "is integration. You're not trying to hide what you are—you're learning to be yourself in different contexts. At home and school, you emphasize your human nature. Here, with pack, you can let your wolf nature show more freely."

As we walked back toward my car, I found myself thinking about the careful balance I was learning to maintain. It wasn't just about managing supernatural abilities—it was about managing relationships, expectations, and my own sense of identity.

"Can I ask you something?" I said to Thorne as we reached the main building.

"Of course."

"Do you ever feel like you're living multiple lives? Like you have to be different versions of yourself depending on where you are?"

Thorne's expression grew thoughtful. "Every werewolf deals with that to some extent. We partially exist in the human world but aren't entirely part of it. We have pack obligations but also individual desires." He paused. "But for most of us, the integration happens gradually, over years of growing up in both worlds. You're trying to compress that learning into weeks."

"Is it worth it?" I asked. "The complexity, the constant awareness of what you can and can't reveal?"

"You tell me," Thorne said with a small smile. "How did it feel to run through the forest as Lyra? How does it feel to have family who understand what you are?"

I considered the question, thinking about the incredible sensation of my first shift and the profound sense of belonging I'd felt. "Like coming home to a place I never knew I'd been missing."

"Then yes," Thorne said. "It's worth it."

As I drove back toward my human life, toward Mom and Dad and the comfortable routines of ordinary teenage existence, I reflected on how much my world had expanded in just one week. I was still learning to navigate the complexities of dual identity, still figuring out how to balance my supernatural nature with my human relationships.

But for the first time since learning what I was, I felt like I might actually be capable of managing both worlds successfully.

"We grow stronger each day," Lyra observed contentedly. "Soon, both lives will feel natural."

That evening, as I sat down to dinner with Mom and Dad, I found myself studying their faces with new awareness. They looked tired, I realized—more tired than usual, with worry lines I hadn't noticed before.

"Everything alright?" I asked, setting down my fork.

Mom and Dad exchanged a glance that immediately put me on alert. They were communicating about something, debating whether to share whatever was concerning them.

"It's probably nothing," Dad said finally, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But there have been some... unusual things happening in the neighborhood lately."

"What kind of unusual things?"

"Reports of large animals in the area," Mom explained. "Mrs. Patterson swears she saw wolves in her backyard two nights ago, but that's impossible. There haven't been wolves in this area for decades."

My blood ran cold. "Wolves?"

"The police think it's probably just large dogs. Really, really large dogs." Dad continued. "But several neighbors have reported strange sounds at night, and some people claim to have seen unusual tracks in their yards."

I forced my expression to remain calm while my mind raced. Unknown wolves near human neighborhoods, close to where I lived. This couldn't be coincidental.

"Have you seen anything?" Mom asked, her maternal instincts clearly picking up on my tension.

"No," I said honestly. "But I’ll be more careful about being out alone."

"That's exactly what we were thinking," Dad agreed. "At least until the police figure out what's going on."

I nodded, though my mind was already working through the implications. If hostile wolves were prowling human neighborhoods, it likely meant they were trying to gather information about me specifically. My human family could be in danger simply because of their connection to me.

"We must tell them," Lyra said urgently. "They cannot protect themselves from threats they do not understand."

"Not yet," I replied to my wolf. "Not until I understand the threat myself."

But as I helped clean up from dinner, listening to Mom and Dad discuss increased security measures and neighborhood watch programs, I knew Lyra was right. Eventually, I would have to tell them the truth about what I was and what dangers that might bring to their door.

The question was whether I could gather enough information to protect them before that truth became impossible to hide.

My phone buzzed with a text from Maya: Coffee tomorrow morning? I have news.

I responded quickly: Definitely. I have news too.

Neither of us knew it yet, but tomorrow would bring revelations that would change everything we thought we understood about the supernatural world and our place in it.

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