CHAPTER 1 : The Whisper of the Scar

"Do you ever wonder what waits in the dark?"

The inquiry cut through the soft murmur of the woodland, and I was startled by the voice. My boots dug into the soggy moss as I froze in mid-step. There was no one there, yet the pines were filled with a faint, almost mocking laugh from the wind.

I have heard it from others before.

Shaking the uneasiness that coiled in my chest, I gritted my teeth and proceeded down the tiny track that led to the cabin. It was faint, like an itch under the skin, but the throb of the scar on my collarbone was enough to tell me that it was there. It always responded to the forest, but I was unable to pinpoint the reason.

By the time I arrived at the cottage, the valley was bathed in violet and gold hues as the sun began to set behind the mountains. Tucked up like a lost antique in a clearing, the cabin was basic. It had formerly belonged to my family, long before I lost everything in the fire.

Not long thereafter, the nightmares had begun.

The creak of the door reverberated in the empty room as I pulled it open. When I put my luggage at the entrance, the scent of ancient wood and light smoke welcomed me like an old friend, anchoring me. There had been fewer visitors and less inquiries about why a nineteen-year-old lived alone in the middle of nowhere, so the day had been plenty calm. I liked it that way.

However, as the sky became darker, the uneasiness that had accompanied me home persisted.

I scarcely tasted the slow dinner of bread and scrambled eggs. I carelessly stroked the scar as it pulsed once more. Almost as if it had its own pulse, the thin, jagged line felt warm under my hands.

I had once, years ago, questioned physicians about it. Scars don't feel, they claimed. Nerve endings are dead; they never return. My own, however, looked to be alive.

I was washing dishes when the cabin shook with the first clap of thunder. The mountains were in the midst of a late-summer storm. The sort that shook the earth with each boom and painted the sky in bursts of gray and white. I closed the drapes, but it didn't stop the storm's fury.

It had begun to rain by the time I got into bed. Normally, the steady beat of the tin roof would bring me to sleep, but today I was unable to fall asleep.

The beginning of the dream was always the same.

I was in the middle of the forest, surrounded by tall trees that watched over me silently. With its unusual size and brightness, the moon hung low, illuminating everything with silvery light. Despite the chilly air clouding my breath, the woodland was alive with warmth, with subtle sparkles dancing between the trees that resembled fireflies but were incorrect.

And then the noise.

Every hair on my body stood on end as it slithered through the woods, low and guttural. The shadows moved too quickly for me to follow, so I turned to look for the source. Near enough to constrict my chest, a growl rippled across the air.

I suddenly caught sight of them.

Eyes.

Glistening and golden, they held me with a ferocity that left my knees weak. They weren't from any animal I'd ever seen; they were too keen and clever. I was immobile and unable to breathe. The eyes drew nearer, the rumble becoming more intense.

"Run."

It was a new voice, anxious and low this time. It wasn't mine, yet it was all around and inside me.

I gasped when I woke up, my heart hammering my ribs as the eyes lunged.

With the exception of the storm's dim light outside, the cabin was black. Rain pelted the windows, and the wind screamed like a real creature. The searing sensation of my scar on my flesh caused my hand to fly to it. This time, it felt like tiny needles under the surface, and it was sharp.

With my legs dangling over the edge of the bed, I steadied my breathing and applied pressure with my hand to the scar, hoping it would relax. This was new; it had never burned this much after a dream.

I walked to the window, and the floor groaned under my weight. Removing the curtain, I looked around the clearing. As usual it was vacant. The forest was still throughout the storm, with branches quivering from the force of the wind.

But then I noticed it.

A shadow passed between the trees, just perceptible against the night's darkness. Though it was too big to be a deer, it moved quickly, the rain obscuring its form. My heartbeat accelerated, and I narrowed my eyes to attempt to track it.

There were two golden eyes that blinked into being just beyond the edge of the clearing.

I grabbed for balance on the ledge and staggered back, the curtain dropping from my grasp. I gasped.

I could feel their weight even though the eyes were still, as if they were staring directly at my face through the glass. My knees almost buckled under the increased pulse of the scar.

A wolf, bigger than any I had ever seen, with fur as black as the nothingness, briefly came into view when a flash of lightning illuminated the area.

The wolf and the light then disappeared.

As I retreated from the window, the room whirled. My dream's voice echoed back, barely heard over the storm, and the scar became hotter, nearly intolerable.

"Run."

I turned to go toward the kitchen as the sound of glass breaking pierced the atmosphere. I snatched up the closest object I could find—a bulky flashlight—and crawled toward the commotion, my pulse thumping.

My footsteps could no longer be heard as the rain fell more heavily. I halted as I turned the corner, my pulse thundering in my ears.

The rear door was ajar, swaying in the breeze. Glass shards were scattered on the floor, sparkling in the low light.

One paw print was found there, right inside the entryway.

Compressed into the damp ground, it was unfathomably enormous. Like the embers of a fading fire, the edges gave off a little glimmer.

The scar burned on my collarbo

ne, and the voice filled the room once again, louder this time.

"Run, Selene."