The Wild Within

The first thing Nova noticed was the smell—musty, old, and tinged with something else she couldn't place. It hit her before her eyes even opened. Her body ached all over, and her head pounded like a drumbeat, but the sensations weren't enough to overpower the scent.

When she finally cracked her eyes open, the dim light filtering through the gaps in wooden planks confirmed her suspicions. She was in a rundown shack. Shafts of sunlight spilled in through holes in the walls, creating soft patterns across the dirt floor. It wasn't much, but it was warm, and the crackling fire encircled by stones in the middle of the room brought some comfort against the chill she remembered from the forest.

Her senses stirred, tugging at her awareness. She wasn't alone.

The realization hit like a thunderclap, and her body reacted instinctively. Nova scrambled backward, her muscles screaming in protest. A low, guttural growl escaped her throat before she even registered the sound. Her back hit the splintered wooden wall, and she crouched defensively, her golden eyes darting around the dim interior.

"Easy," a voice said, calm and deep. "You're safe here."

Nova's eyes locked onto the source of the voice. A man stood at the edge of the firelight, his hulking frame leaning casually against the wall. There was something about him that radiated power, his dark hair falling messily across sharp, angular features. His eyes, an unnatural shade of amber, glinted in the firelight. He stood at the edge of the firelight, his hulking frame leaning casually against the wall. His presence radiated power, his dark hair falling messily across sharp, angular features. His eyes, an unnatural shade of amber, glinted in the firelight.

Fear? Rage? Nova wasn't sure what she was feeling as her body shook uncontrollably. A low growl escaped her, but no words came. She hated the weakness that consumed her, the inability to communicate. Every part of her hurt, and the pounding in her head wouldn't relent. The frustration of being unable to demand answers only added to the storm raging inside her.

The man stepped forward slowly, his hands raised in a show of peace. "I'm the one who saved your hide back there," he said simply. "You're welcome, by the way."

Nova bared her teeth, the growl in her throat returning as she watched him warily. Her inability to speak only fueled her frustration, but she let the guttural sound speak for her defiance.

He stopped a few paces away, crouching down to meet her eyes. He smirked slightly, tilting his head. "That growl of yours says you're ready for a fight, but judging by the state you're in, you're not winning any.""

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, and Nova's head swam with questions she couldn't piece together. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind refused to let go of the wariness coiled inside her.

"You're somewhere safe," the man said, reading her unease. "For now. But you've got bigger problems than where you are."

Nova narrowed her eyes, a sharp growl rumbling in her chest. She wanted to demand answers but had no means to do so. Instead, her frustration showed in her stiffened posture and the snarl that wouldn't quite leave her throat.

The man leaned back on his heels, studying her like she was some sort of puzzle. "You don't know what you are, do you?" he asked, almost to himself.

Nova froze. Her golden eyes flickered with uncertainty as the question hung in the air. She didn't answer—couldn't answer. All she had were flashes of fur, blood, and the haunting screams of her parents. Her silence was answer enough.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Figures. Look, you're going to need a lot of answers, but right now, you need to focus on recovering. You were lucky I found you when I did. That mountain lion would've finished you off."

The mention of the fight sent a fresh wave of pain through her side. She glanced down at her bandaged wounds—deep scratches and punctures covered by crudely torn strips of cloth. The sight made her stomach twist, but it also stirred a strange sense of gratitude she wasn't ready to acknowledge.

He stood and stepped back toward the shadows. "Rest," he said firmly. "We'll talk more when you're stronger."

Nova watched him retreat, her body too drained to do anything more. His presence lingered in the room, like the weight of a storm building on the horizon. As sleep claimed her once more, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life had shifted again—deepening the path she was already unable to escape.