Chapter Six : Natural Enemies

Morning light cut through the blinds in thin, dusty lines.

Sarah woke to her alarm buzzing face-down on the nightstand. 17 years old, and she still hated mornings. She groaned, slapped the phone quiet without looking, and stared at the ceiling for a full 30 seconds before she trusted herself to sit up.

Her reflection in the mirror above the dresser looked normal. Just a tired girl with messy hair and a hoodie she’d slept in.

Sarah finished tying her hair up and checked herself once in the mirror. Normal. Safe. She grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs, the old steps creaking under her weight.

The kitchen was warm and loud.

Her dad was at the stove, flipping pancakes like it was an Olympic sport. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said without turning around. “You’re 7 minutes later than yesterday. I’m keeping score.”

Her mom sat at the table with a mug of coffee, already scrolling through emails on her phone. She glanced up and smiled. “Don’t listen to him. Sit before he burns the next batch.”

And at the head of the table, Grandma was there, spooning jam onto toast with steady hands. She looked up at Sarah over her glasses and patted the seat next to her. “Come here, my dear. Eat before you run off.

Sarah slid into the chair. The table was chaos in the best way — plates clattering, her dad complaining about the news, her mom teasing Grandma about her terrible texting, and Grandma just shaking her head and pushing more eggs onto Sarah’s plate.

“Did you finish that English paper?” Dad asked, sliding a pancake onto her plate.

“Mostly,” Sarah mumbled around a bite of toast.

“Mostly doesn’t get you an A,” Mom said, but there was no bite to it.

Grandma just reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Sarah’s ear. “She’s fine. Let the girl eat.”

For a few minutes, it felt normal. Just a family, having breakfast

Sarah checked the clock on the wall. 7:42.

She swallowed the last bite, grabbed her backpack, and stood up. “Okay, I’m out. Don’t stay up waiting if I’m late.”

“Don’t be late,” Dad said automatically.

“Be careful,” Grandma added, quieter.

Sarah hesitated at the door, looked back at all three of them, and said, “Love you guys.”

“Love you too,” they answered, almost in sync.

The door clicked shut behind her, the quiet of the morning street hit differently after the noise of the kitchen, and the morning air hit cold. Sarah pulled her jacket tighter and started walking toward school, trying to ignore the way her eyes kept drifting to the trees along the path, like she was expecting something to move in them.

The bell for the first period had already rung. Sarah could hear it faintly in the distance, echoing down the hallway she should have been walking through. 

But she wasn’t in the hallway. 

She was standing in the woods, backpack still slung over one shoulder, morning dew soaking through her sneakers. She had no memory of getting to school. One moment she was leaving home, the next the trees were closing in around her and the smell of pine and damp soil filled her lungs. 

She didn’t remember the walk here. Her footsteps were quiet against the damp ground, but she kept walking anyway. Looking around. For what, she didn’t know. It was like her body had a destination her mind hadn’t caught up to yet. 

Then — a rustle. 

Leaves rattled on the floor, too sharp, too deliberate for the wind. Sarah stopped. Turned sharply toward the sound. Her heart kicked up, but it wasn’t fear. 

Drops of blood. Dark against the brown leaves. 

Her stomach twisted. Not with nausea. With something else. A hollow, pulling ache that started low in her gut and made her mouth go dry. Hungry. The word came unbidden, and it felt right. 

She followed the blood. One drop to the next, scattered across leaves and broken twigs. Each step made the ache sharper, more focused. The desire to feed, to find whatever that was, dug its claws in and wouldn’t let go. 

The trail ended behind a fallen log. 

Someone was lying there. Motionless. Injured. 

Sarah sprinted. One second she was ten feet back, the next she was on her knees beside him, the world narrowing to the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

Her breath caught. 

Jake. 

Blood matted his temple, his shirt torn at the shoulder. His eyes were closed, face pale. 

And all Sarah could think was how close his neck was. How loud his pulse was. How right it felt to lean in.

Sarah fought the blood lust. The desire to feed clawed up her throat, hot and raw, making her vision pulse red at the edges. Jake’s blood was right there — copper and heat against her lips, his pulse hammering under her fingers.

“No,” she hissed through clenched teeth. Not to him. To herself.

She shoved the instinct down, jaw locking until it hurt, and scooped Jake up before her control slipped again. He was heavier than he looked, but adrenaline made her fast.

She sprinted.

                                 ***

After class, Mr. Ric stayed behind his desk, the attendance sheet still open. Jake’s name stared back at him. Blank. Again.

He glanced toward the door like Jake might walk in late. Nothing. Sarah’s seat was empty too.

He sighed, grabbed his phone, and dialed.

“Hello miss, I was just calling to check if your Jake is okay,” Mr. Ric said when the line picked up.

“What do you mean, sir?” Aunt Marisol said, voice light with a small chuckle. “This is still school hours. I’m supposed to be the one calling for that.”

“I haven’t set my eyes on Jake since the first period,” Mr. Ric said. No small talk. Straight to it.

“What?” Aunt Marisol exclaimed. The chuckle was gone.

She remembered going to Jake’s room early that morning. His bed was scattered, the room quiet. She’d assumed Jake had already left for school.

“Is Jake not at home?” Mr. Ric asked.

“No, he’s not,” Aunt Marisol said. Her voice dropped. “I thought he went to school.”

“Don’t panic, ma’am,” Mr. Ric said quickly. “We’ll find him, alright?”

Aunt Marisol heaved a deep sigh. The sound carried years of worry through the phone.

“Okay,” she said.

The line went dead.

                                ***

Jake woke up feeling off. Not sick, just... too much. Like his senses were turned up too high.

He blinked against the dappled light filtering through the trees and looked around. Sarah was sitting on a flat block of stone next to him, arms crossed, watching him like he might bolt.

“Where am I?” Jake asked, voice rough.

“This is the spot I was always kept by my superiors when I was going out of control,” Sarah said.

Jake tried to sit up. “Where did you find me?” he asked, wincing as he moved.

“I don’t think you should do that,” Sarah said. “You’re not fully recovered.”

Jake still managed and sat up groaning, muscles protesting. He looked down at himself. No blood. No torn clothes. Just dirt and leaves stuck to his hoodie.

"Well, I found you in the woods this morning," Sarah said. "You were injured and bleeding."

"You were unconscious for hours. I figured moving you was safer than leaving you there."

"But now I can't find the injury anymore.”

Jake looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Just tell me what you are, Jake.”

“I don’t remember what happened last night,” Jake said, running a hand through his hair. “I was in bed sleeping, and next thing I’m here with you.”

“It was the full moon last night,” Sarah said quietly.

Jake froze. “I hope I didn’t hurt anyone,” he said. The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“What does that mean?” Sarah asked, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, nothing,” Jake said too fast. He forced a laugh. “We missed class. He added, trying to dismiss the whole discussion.

“I missed school because of you,” Sarah said.

“How did you find me?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know,” Sarah said and stood up. “I was going to school and somehow found myself in the woods. It was like I was drawn to you.”

“We have to go home now,” Jake said, pushing himself to his feet. “School must have called my aunt, that I wasn’t there today.”

Sarah wasn’t looking at him, but she could swear she heard bones adjusting in Jake’s body as he stood up. A quiet shift, like something settling back into place.

“What was that?” Sarah asked and turned to look at him.

“What was what?” Jake said, brushing dirt off his jeans.

Sarah looked at Jake. The dislocation on his leg was gone. The awkward limp from before was gone too. His ankle looked like it had never been twisted.

“Forget it,” Sarah said. “Let’s go.”

Jake and Sarah were coming out of the old vampire hideout, Sarah in front and Jake behind. The stone doorway exhaled cold air behind them.

“Thanks for saving me,” Jake said.

“You’re welcome,” Sarah said, half-hearted. She didn’t slow down.

“Who’s clothes are these?” Jake asked, tugging at the jacket that was two sizes too big.

“Oh, they’re my cousin’s,” Sarah answered. “He left it for me ‘cause I like them.”

“Sarah?” Jake called softly and stopped.

Sarah stopped and turned to look at him, but she wasn’t really looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on something behind him, and her body had gone still.

“There’s something I wanna tell you,” Jake said.

“Jake, there’s a wolf,” Sarah called out.

“Yeah, I’m coming to that,” Jake said reluctantly, scratching the back of his neck.

“No, I mean there’s a wolf right behind you,” Sarah said, voice low and sharp.

Jake turned around slowly.

There was a wolf right behind him, low to the ground, growling softly. Saliva dripped from its jaws onto the dirt.

“Oh,” Jake said. “That’s a wolf.”

“Jake, run!” Sarah shouted and immediately sprinted.

Jake followed.

The wolf lunged, claws tearing at the ground as it chased.

Sarah and Jake were running side by side.

She kept glancing over, and with each stride she got more surprised. Jake was keeping up. Not just keeping up—he was almost as fast as her. No stumble, no lag.

Jake thought about something mid-sprint, and he abruptly stopped running and turned to face the wolf.

Sarah skidded to a halt behind a tree and watched, breath caught in her throat.

The wolf was coming full speed at Jake, low and lethal. Then Sarah heard it.

Jake growled.

Loud. Deep.

Sarah thought it was the wolf at first, but when she looked again it was Jake growling. His eyes had gone golden-yellow, and his posture had shifted—shoulders forward, teeth bared.

The wolf stopped right in its tracks. It winced, ears flattening, and turned back, running off into another direction like it had just remembered something more important elsewhere.

Jake turned back to look at Sarah, who was coming out of her hideout slowly.

“You’re a werewolf,” Sarah said, surprised.

“Yeah,” Jake said, the golden-yellow fading from his eyes. “I have a secret too. That’s what I was gonna tell you.”

Sarah sprinted and caught Jake by the neck, using the momentum to slam his back against a tree.

Jake was faster. He twisted, and Sarah’s shoulder hit the bark instead. Her hand was still locked around his throat.

Sarah was surprised, but she hid it fast. She dropped low and swept at the back of his knee.

Jake screamed and fell down groaning, his leg buckling under him.

Sarah moved close to Jake’s ear. “Stay away from me else I’ll break more bones,” she said, voice flat.

She let go and walked away without looking back.

“I’m not your enemy, Sarah,” Jake called behind her, groaning on the ground.

Sarah didn’t stop. Didn’t turn back.

Jake shifted in pain as the broken bone snapped and realigned itself, muscle and sinew pulling back into place. He heaved a deep sigh of relief and laid flat on the floor, staring at the branches overhead.”