The morning air was crisp, filtered through a veil of mist that coiled between the towering pines like ghostly fingers. Birds chirped somewhere high above, and shafts of pale sunlight pierced the canopy, splashing golden puddles on the forest floor. Eva stirred under a thick woolen blanket, blinking against the soft light seeping through the cabin's modest window.
For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then the scent of pine, smoke, and something faintly feral brought it all back. The clearing. The man with gold eyes. The truth he had told her—one that her rational mind still wrestled with.
A werewolf.
She sat up, brushing hair from her eyes. The cabin was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. Her camera bag sat beside the chair where she'd collapsed the night before. She reached for it, checking instinctively for her memory card. Still there. Still intact.
She pulled up the image—the one she had shown Aidan. The glowing eyes in the woods.
It hadn't been him.
The door creaked.
Aidan stepped inside, shirt damp with dew and sleeves rolled to the elbows. He carried a bundle of firewood under one arm and a rabbit slung by the feet in the other. He paused, looking at her.
"You're awake."
She nodded. "You've been out?"
"Scouting," he said. "I wanted to make sure nothing lingered nearby."
She looked at the rabbit. "Is that… breakfast?"
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. "If you're up for it."
"I've had worse."
He moved to the hearth and began building the fire back to life. Eva studied him as he worked—how silently and efficiently he moved, how grounded he seemed in this wild place. But there was tension in the set of his shoulders, an edge beneath the calm.
"You said last night… you'd show me. What you are."
He glanced at her, then returned to the fire. "Tonight. The moon won't rise for hours."
She leaned forward. "But it's real? You weren't just trying to scare me off?"
He stood and met her gaze. "You're still here. So either I failed… or you're braver than you look."
She smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."
He set the rabbit aside. "There's a creek nearby. Fresh water. If you want to wash up."
Eva grabbed her bag and stood. "Lead the way."
---
The creek ran through a gully surrounded by mossy rocks and ferns. Sunlight caught the water as it bubbled over stones, glinting like scattered coins. Eva knelt by the edge and splashed her face, the cold shocking her fully awake.
Aidan stood nearby, facing away, giving her space. She studied him in the reflection on the water's surface—tall, broad, a shadow of something both protective and dangerous.
"You were born like this?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes. My family's bloodline goes back centuries."
"Are there more of you?"
He nodded. "Scattered. We keep to remote places. Cities are… complicated."
"I can imagine."
He crouched, running a hand through the water. "Some of us hunt. Some protect. Some lose themselves."
"Like the one I photographed?"
His jaw tightened. "That one isn't part of the pack. A rogue. Dangerous. Unstable."
Eva frowned. "It was watching me."
"I know."
"Why?"
Aidan stood. "I don't know. But it's gone for now."
She dried her hands on her jacket and looked at him. "Why did you help me?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then, "Because you didn't scream."
She blinked. "That's it?"
His voice softened. "Because you smelled like wildflowers and salt air. Like something I hadn't known I missed until I found it."
She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "That's… unexpected."
He stepped closer, not threatening but intense. "I don't do small talk well. I speak plainly."
She swallowed. "So what now?"
"You stay until the full moon rises. See what you came to see. Then decide."
"Decide what?"
"If you still want to walk away."
---
They spent the day in quiet rhythm. Aidan prepared the rabbit with practiced skill, seasoning it with foraged herbs. Eva helped where she could, asking questions, sharing stories about her travels, her photography, her parents—gone since she was nineteen.
Aidan listened more than he spoke, but she noticed the way his eyes softened when she laughed, the small flickers of expression that betrayed a deeper thoughtfulness.
In the afternoon, he showed her the trail to the ridge overlooking the valley. From there, the forest stretched endlessly, a sea of green and gold.
"I used to come here as a boy," he said. "Before everything changed."
"You mean the first time you changed?"
He nodded. "Thirteen. My father was supposed to help me through it. He died before the moon rose."
"I'm sorry."
He looked at her. "You say that like you mean it."
"I do."
They sat in silence, wind brushing through the trees, the weight of memory resting between them.
When they returned to the cabin, the sky was darkening. Aidan moved with purpose, stoking the fire, laying out a blanket outside the cabin under the open sky.
"It's almost time," he said. "Stay by the fire. No matter what you see. No matter what you hear."
Eva's pulse quickened. "Are you going to hurt me?"
His eyes flared briefly gold. "Never."
He stepped back and removed his shirt. She couldn't look away. Scars traced his chest and shoulders—proof of a life spent fighting.
Then he knelt, hands on the earth.
The moon crested the tree line.
A low groan escaped his throat, and his body convulsed. Bones cracked. Muscles rippled. His spine arched unnaturally. Hair sprouted from his skin like wildfire. His hands twisted into claws. His mouth stretched into a muzzle lined with gleaming teeth.
Eva gasped, but didn't run.
The transformation was violent, painful. But when it was done, what stood before her was not a monster.
He was massive, over seven feet tall, fur dark as night, eyes molten gold. And yet… there was still Aidan in him.
He approached slowly, sniffing the air. She held still.
"Aidan?" she whispered.
The wolf dipped his head.
She reached out, trembling, and placed her hand on his fur.
He nuzzled her palm.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
"Beautiful," she whispered.
The wolf let out a soft whine.
They stayed like that under the moonlight, woman and beast, until the night swallowed the world whole.
---