B1: HTM - 2

“Mom, are you sure we need to go all the way to the Human City?” I asked, glancing over at her.

The trees around us thinned as the road stretched into unfamiliar territory, the familiar scents of the forest replaced with the dusty, metallic tang of the city nearby. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the change.

“Yes, Amelia,” my mother replied, her voice steady, though I could see the tension in her shoulders as she drove. “There are certain herbs and supplies I can only get in the city. And besides, it’s about time you saw a bit of the world outside the pack.”

I twisted my fingers together, staring out the window. I’d heard a lot about the Human City from others, usually stories of bustling markets, strange food, and noisy streets. It was a place full of mystery and energy, completely different from our quiet, tucked-away life in the pack.

I should have been excited — and part of me was — but there was something about today that felt... off.

“Do you think there will be a lot of humans there?” I asked, trying to mask the unease in my voice with curiosity. My mother glanced at me and smiled.

“That’s likely, yes. Just remember to stay close, alright?” I nodded, but her words only made me more nervous.

Mom had always been cautious, but today her caution felt heightened, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror more than usual, her fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. She was usually composed, calm. But today, a thin line of worry pressed between her brows, making her look almost... afraid.

“Are you okay, Mom?” I asked softly. Her gaze flicked to me, and she forced a smile.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I just... don’t want us to be here longer than necessary. We’ll get what we need and head right back. No wandering off today, alright?”

“Of course,” I promised, though I could feel the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I wanted to push her, to ask what she was worried about, but something told me that if she wasn’t sharing, it was probably for a reason.

The Human City unfolded before us, a blur of gray buildings and tall structures that stretched higher than I’d ever seen in our small pack village. It felt cold and crowded, and even though we hadn’t stepped out of the car yet, I could feel the city’s pulse — fast, unrelenting, and foreign.

We parked near a busy street, and as soon as we stepped out, a wave of noises hit me — cars honking, people chattering, and the occasional bark of street vendors shouting over each other. I stood there, wide-eyed, feeling like a fish out of water. Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me.

“Stay close, Amelia,” she murmured.

Together, we moved through the crowd, weaving between people who barely noticed us. Mom kept her arm protectively around me, guiding me through the maze of humans. I watched them as they passed by, each with their own story, their own hurried footsteps, and their own focus on something I couldn’t see.

“This is incredible,” I whispered, half to myself.

“It’s different, isn’t it?” Mom said, her voice gentle but distant, like she was barely paying attention. We arrived at a small shop nestled between larger, more modern buildings. It had an old, weathered sign hanging above the door, and the windows were filled with rows of glass jars, dried plants, and the faint shimmer of what looked like crystals.

Mom pulled me inside, and the noise of the street vanished as the door closed behind us.

“Good morning, Mira,” the shopkeeper said, greeting my mom with a slight bow. He was an older man with a long beard and kind eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

“Good morning, Henry,” Mom replied warmly. She released my shoulder and walked up to the counter, chatting with him in low tones.

They spoke quickly, as though they’d done this a hundred times before, and though I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I could sense the familiarity between them. While they talked, I wandered around the shop, examining the shelves lined with all sorts of strange things.

Dried herbs I didn’t recognize, small bottles filled with shimmering liquid, and stones that sparkled under the dim light. My fingers trailed over a soft bundle of sage, breathing in its earthy scent, when I heard my mother’s voice, sharper than before.

“Henry, are you sure you haven’t heard anything?” she asked, her voice tense. I turned, curiosity prickling at me. Henry shook his head, glancing my way before leaning in closer to my mom.

“No signs of them here, but keep your guard up. You know how unpredictable they can be.”

Them.

The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning I didn’t understand. I felt a chill run down my spine. Mom never spoke like this — at least not when I was around. My mother glanced at me, catching my worried expression.

“Ready to go, Amelia?”

I nodded, pushing down the questions rising inside me. I knew she wouldn’t answer them here, and something told me I wasn’t quite ready to hear her answer anyway. We left the shop quickly, Henry’s gaze following us as we stepped back into the noisy street.

Mom’s grip on my hand was tighter this time, almost too tight, as if she thought I might slip away. We walked in silence for a few minutes, my mother’s pace quicker than before. She glanced over her shoulder every so often, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I finally whispered, unable to keep quiet any longer. She looked down at me, her face softening, though her eyes were still guarded.

“I just want us to get home safely, sweetheart. That’s all.”

“Is someone following us?” “No,” she said quickly, but the flicker of doubt in her eyes told me otherwise. The tension between us grew, thick and unspoken, as we walked back to the car. Every noise, every stranger passing by, seemed to set my mom on edge. I felt like I was seeing a different side of her — one that was cautious, wary. It made me feel strange, like the city itself was watching us, waiting for something to happen.

Just as we reached the car, Mom’s grip on my shoulder tightened suddenly. “Amelia, get in. Now.”

I froze, her tone sharp and unfamiliar. Her gaze was fixed somewhere behind me, and I turned just enough to catch a glimpse of two figures standing across the street. They were dressed in dark clothing, their eyes fixed intently on us. They didn’t look like ordinary people — there was a dangerous air about them, something predatory.

“Mom… who are they?” I whispered, fear creeping into my voice.

She didn’t answer, instead pushing me into the car and slamming the door. I barely had time to fasten my seatbelt before she was in the driver’s seat, her hands white-knuckled on the wheel as she started the engine.

The car lurched forward, and I glanced back to see the figures watching us, their expressions unreadable.

“Mom, are they...?” I trailed off, not even sure what I was asking.

“Rogues,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The word sent a chill through me. I’d heard of rogues before — wolves who had no loyalty to any pack, dangerous and unpredictable. They lived outside the laws we followed, often attacking without warning. But I’d never seen one, never been close enough to feel their presence.

“What do they want?”

“Nothing good, Amelia,” she said, her gaze hard as she focused on the road ahead. “I didn’t think they’d be this close to the city. We’ve always been careful... but sometimes, careful isn’t enough.”

I sank back into my seat, my heart pounding as I tried to process what she’d said. The city, the crowds, the danger lurking in the faces of strangers... it was all too much. I’d felt safe with her, invincible even, but now, for the first time, I saw that there were things even my mother feared.

As we drove back toward the pack, the weight of that realization settled over me, like a shadow I couldn’t shake. The perfect, predictable life I knew suddenly felt fragile, like it could shatter with one wrong move.

“Mom?” I whispered, glancing over at her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are we... going to be okay?” She reached over, squeezing my hand gently, her eyes softening.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine. I promise.”

But I could hear the tremor in her voice, the worry she tried to hide. And as I stared out the window, watching the city fade behind us, I felt a deep, quiet fear settle into my bones.