She sat cross-legged against the base of an old tree, fingers toying with the crescent moon charm on her bracelet. Her chest felt tight, stretched by fear and the gnawing ache of what could have been. This was supposed to be a night of joy, celebration. The shift—their first step into adulthood as wolves—should've been surrounded by family and cheers.
Instead, they were huddled in the woods like fugitives, the promise of pain hanging in the air like a stormcloud about to break.
"I still can't believe it's tonight," Forrest muttered, lying dramatically on his back, arms flung out like he'd just fainted in a soap opera. "We're about to turn into mythical murder dogs and I'm out here with a pinecone in my ass."
Opal snorted despite herself. "It's supposed to be symbolic. You know, connected to nature."
"Nature can choke," Forrest said flatly. "Nature didn't even offer us breakfast."
"Stop whining," Ash barked. "You act like we're camping. This is a tactical withdrawal."
"It's literally just camping but with more emotional trauma," Forrest replied.
Ridge leaned against a tree with his arms crossed, watching the banter with mild concern. "We could've been home for this. With Mom. With Dad. With everyone watching. It's not fair."
Opal's heart clenched.
"Nothing about this is fair," she said quietly.
Brooks, ever the scholar, sat cross-legged with a stack of notecards and a pen like he was preparing for a werewolf SAT. "Technically, the first shift is the most unstable period of a young wolf's life. Neurological pathways are restructuring. Adrenaline levels skyrocket. Pain receptors go berserk. If we were at home, we'd have the whole pack guiding us through it."
"Wow," Forrest said slowly, raising a hand. "Thanks for that fun-fact buffet. So helpful. So soothing."
Brooks blinked. "I can also tell you what parts of our skeleton will break first."
"Please don't," Ridge groaned.
"I vote for no skeletal discussions," Opal mumbled. "At least not before we've emotionally processed our childhoods."
"I haven't even emotionally processed puberty," Forrest added.
Ash paced nearby, silver eyes glinting with frustration. "We shouldn't have to be out here. We shouldn't be hiding. This is our birthright. The pack should be here."
"And Azeala will be there if we go back," Ridge said, jaw clenched. "Do you want to lead her straight to Mom? To Dad?"
Ash turned slowly. "Do you think I want this, Ridge? Do you think I like being powerless out here? Huddled in the woods like criminals?"
Forrest sat up, brushing pine needles from his curls. "I mean, I kind of look like a criminal, but I think that's just my resting face."
"Shut up, Forrest," Ash snapped.
"No, you shut up!" Forrest said, pointing. "Every time someone tries to talk about feelings, you bark orders like you're already Alpha. Guess what, big guy? None of us voted!"
"Maybe we should," Brooks muttered, scribbling something into his notes. "It'd be a statistically interesting outcome."
"Brooks, not now," Opal hissed, suppressing a giggle.
Ash stepped forward, tension in every line of his body. "We are not going back. Not until we know we won't lead Azeala right to them."
"Finally, something we agree on," Ridge said grimly.
Forrest flopped back onto the ground with a groan. "I wanted my first shift to be like the stories. Running through the trees with the pack cheering, confetti cannons, maybe a snack table…"
Brooks pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "There are no snack tables at a shift."
"There should be!" Forrest snapped. "You know what's worse than shifting into a wolf under moonlight? Shifting into a hangry wolf."
Opal chuckled under her breath before glancing at Ash. "I hate this too. But if we go back, she'll kill them. All of them."
Ash's shoulders slumped. "I know."
There was a pause. Silence fell like a soft snowfall—cold and heavy.
"I'm scared," Forrest said suddenly. Quiet. Raw.
Everyone turned.
Forrest shrugged, expression folding into something vulnerable. "I joke because if I don't… I'm going to scream. I don't want to do this without them. Without Mom's stupid voice yelling encouragement, or Dad crying like a baby watching his babies grow up."
Brooks moved closer and nudged his shoulder. "You're not alone."
"I don't know if I can do it right," Forrest whispered. "What if my wolf sucks? What if I shift and immediately chase a squirrel off a cliff?"
Opal burst out laughing.
Ash rubbed his face. "Gods help us. Forrest is going to be a corgi, isn't he?"
"I hope I'm a majestic black wolf with glowing green eyes," Forrest said, sitting up, "but watch me be like, a sentient ferret."
"You'll be exactly what you're supposed to be," Opal said softly. "We all will."
Ridge leaned forward, his voice low. "Do we stay? Out here? No safety net?"
Ash looked at each of them, something hard flickering in his eyes… then melting into resolve. "We stay."
"We stay," Brooks echoed.
"I don't like it," Ridge muttered. "But yeah. We stay."
Forrest raised his hand. "Can I vote for staying but also request snacks?"
"No," everyone said at once.
They shared a moment of weary laughter.
Opal stood slowly, brushing dirt from her jeans. "We stay. We shift. We survive."
Ash nodded. "Together."
And that word was all they needed.
Ash sat cross-legged, sharpening a stick for no real reason. Ridge leaned back on his hands, staring up at the moon. Brooks was scribbling something again in the dirt, a flowchart Opal suspected had way too many unnecessary arrows.
And Forrest… Forrest was roasting a stick over a flame that had definitely gone out fifteen minutes ago.
"Forrest," Opal said softly, "you're cooking invisible marshmallows."
He looked up, completely unbothered. "Yeah. They're guilt-free."
Brooks sighed. "You're going to get splinters in your soul."
"Already have," Forrest said cheerfully. "They're shaped like Ash."
Ash didn't even flinch.
Opal smiled despite the tightness in her chest, then glanced up at the sky. "Do you guys remember what Mom looked like when she shifted?"
Everyone went quiet.
It wasn't an awkward silence. It was heavier. Reverent.
Ridge was the one who broke it. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer than usual. "Golden-brown. Huge. But her eyes stayed that same violet."
"Like firelight," Brooks added, drawing a soft oval into the dirt. "She was taller than Dad in wolf form, too. I remember thinking that was really unfair."
Ash nodded. "She always had this presence. Like even when she wasn't the one growling, people stepped out of her way."
Opal's lips curled upward. "I remember how she used to sit on the hill behind the house at sunset in wolf form. Like some kind of queen. Like she was watching something."
"She was watching us," Forrest said. "Usually because one of us was on fire or running naked through the woods."
"You were five," Ridge muttered. "And it was you."
"Details."
Opal laughed, then shook her head. "And Dad—he was all black, right? Big and broad, like a walking shadow?"
Ash nodded. "Yeah. With that silver streak down his muzzle. Looked like someone dipped him in starlight."
"He was so calm," Brooks murmured. "Even when Mom was, you know, yelling because Forrest tried to make a potion out of kitchen spices and melted a saucepan."
"I stand by my art," Forrest said solemnly.
Ridge let out a quiet chuckle. "He could break up a fight just by walking into the room. Even as a wolf."
Ash's expression softened. "They were strong. Beautiful. The wolves you wanted to grow up to be."
A pause.
Then Opal tilted her head. "Do you think we'll look like them?"
Forrest leaned back against a log, arms behind his head. "I hope I got Dad's size. I want to be big enough to scare people but small enough to sneak snacks."
Ash side-eyed him. "You mean you want to be tall enough to reach the top shelf but compact enough to hide under the table when someone yells."
"Exactly. Intimidating and adorable. Like a vicious Pomeranian."
Brooks scribbled again. "Genetically, it's plausible we'll take features from both. But it's also possible we'll look completely different. Our bond makes us unique."
Opal looked at each of her brothers in turn, brow furrowed. "That's what's wild to me. We're quintuplets. Same womb, same birthday, same DNA soup… and we look nothing alike."
Forrest raised his hand. "I mean, I'm the obvious favorite. Just putting that out there."
"Obvious clown," Ridge said.
"Thank you. I am the entire circus."
Opal pointed at them, counting on her fingers. "Ash has Dad's silver eyes and Mom's jawline. Ridge has Mom's hair but Dad's nose. Brooks looks like he was engineered in a library lab. And Forrest looks like a feral forest elf who lost a bet."
Forrest looked deeply offended. "I have chaos-core beauty. It's niche."
"More like contagious," Ash muttered.
"But seriously," Opal said, voice softening, "what if we shift and… we don't recognize each other? What if our wolves are as different as we are?"
"Then we figure it out," Ridge said.
"Yeah," Brooks added. "We map it out. Get used to the sounds, the scents, the way we move. We adapt."
"We're still us," Ash said. "Wolf or not."
Forrest leaned forward, eyes shining. "Okay, but what if I get to be the fastest? Like, just tearing through the woods, wind in my fur, leaves behind me, absolute menace."
"You can barely outrun the toaster," Ridge said.
"I tripped over that toaster. That's different."
Opal laughed again, and the knot in her chest loosened.
She looked around the circle—at her brothers. Her pack. Each of them a piece of her soul, and soon, they'd change. They'd become something more. Something ancient. Something wild.
But no matter how different they were on the outside… they'd always find each other in the bond.
"We won't lose each other," she whispered.
"No," Ash said. "We won't."
"Even if one of you ends up looking like a deranged woodland creature," Brooks added.
All eyes turned to Forrest.
He raised his stick solemnly. "I shall be majestic."