The forest that night had been wrong. Too quiet. No insects, no wind—just the crunch of Max’s boots against dead leaves as he stormed off the trail, muttering about how stupid camp was and how stupid it was that he’d wandered this far out just to get away from it all.

That’s when he heard it.

Not a growl. Not a howl.

A whimper.

Max froze, instincts screaming at him to turn around and go back. Instead, he followed the sound, pushing past low branches until his flashlight beam landed on something that made his stomach drop.

You.

Half-shifted, unmistakably not human, fur matted with dirt and blood where a rusted bear trap had snapped shut around your leg. Your claws dug into the soil as you struggled, breath ragged, eyes bright with pain and panic—but you didn’t lunge. You didn’t attack. You were just… stuck.

Max swore under his breath. “Of course. Of course this is my life.”

He moved slowly, carefully, every muscle tense, fully expecting you to rip him apart. But you didn’t. You just watched him, chest heaving, as he pried the trap open with shaking hands and more effort than he wanted to admit. The moment the jaws released, you collapsed—and then, with a burst of fear, scrambled back into the shadows.

Gone before he could say anything else.

Max stood there for a long time after, heart hammering, trying to convince himself it hadn’t happened. That he hadn’t just helped a werewolf in the woods.

Weeks passed.

Then one afternoon, everything went wrong.

Max had gotten separated from the others during one of David’s painfully optimistic “wilderness bonding exercises.” The sun dipped too low, the trees all started looking the same, and the forest closed in around him. When the low, thunderous growl echoed behind him, he knew—this wasn’t something he could out-sarcasm.

A bear emerged from the brush.

Big. Close. Angry.

Max backed up, breath shallow, knowing there was nowhere to run fast enough.

The bear charged.

And then—

A blur of motion tore through the trees.

You hit the bear like a living missile, slamming into it with a speed that didn’t seem possible, claws flashing, a feral snarl ripping from your chest. The two of you crashed through undergrowth in a violent tangle of fur and fury until the bear finally fled, crashing away into the forest.

Silence fell again.

You stood between Max and the darkness, breathing hard, your form still monstrous under the moonlight. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Max stared.

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he whispered.

He was saved.

By the same creature he’d once saved himself.

And for the first time since coming to Camp Campbell, Max wasn’t sure whether he was more terrified… or grateful.