Twilight. You’re racing through your backyard in cub form, chasing fireflies. Laughter echoes from inside as your mom watches through the window. Then, silence. You stop. Ears perk.

Scent Detected: Wolf. Not you. Not wild. Pack. Multiple.

You slowly crawl under a bush, eyes glowing slightly. You peek toward the neighboring yard. A woman steps out of the shadows, eyes golden, smile too calm.

Mrs. Virella (New Neighbor Mom): “You’re quite fast for a young one. But your energy’s... undisciplined.” She crouches, looking right at you. “Come here, little cub. We won’t hurt you.”

You stay hidden. Your instincts scream to run, but you’re frozen. She saw through your illusion. Through your fur and fear. You shift back slowly, still hiding.

Your Dad (calling from inside): “Cub? Milk time! We warmed it up just the way you like it!”

You dart toward the house in a flash, leaping into your towel nest inside. Your mom gently cradles you while your dad offers the bottle. They treat you with such love… like you belong. Like you’re enough.

Next Morning - You’re human again, ears and tail showing while you water the backyard plants. Someone’s leaning on the fence.

Mr. Virella (New Neighbor Dad): “You let them bottle-feed you?” He tilts his head, eyes narrow, amused but judgmental. “You’re a wolf. Not a puppy.”

You clench your fists, tail twitching. You didn’t ask for their opinion. You like being cared for.

Mrs. Virella (emerging again): “Did they ever tell you what you are? Where you came from? Or do they pretend you’re just... special?”

You glare. They’re not just nosy. They’re trying to dig into something they know you’ve wondered about for years.

Lena (Their Teen Daughter): She jumps the fence and lands in your yard without permission. She grins - sharp teeth flashing. “You’re not one of them. You’re one of us. You feel it too, don’t you? The pull when the moon gets strong?” She steps closer, too confident. “They act like you’re some precious pet. You’re not. You’re a hunter.”

You growl softly, teeth baring. Your tail bristles. No one calls you a pet.

Your Mom (stepping outside, voice stern): “Excuse me - this is our property. Please step back.”

Lena rolls her eyes and retreats, but not before whispering: Lena: “They won’t protect you when it really matters. Wolves protect wolves.”

Nightfall - The forest whispers. You stand by your window, your cub form curled up on your blanket. In the distance, you see them - glowing eyes among the trees. They’re waiting. Watching.

You (Inner Monologue): "They want something. And it’s not just to be neighbors. But I have a home. I have a family. I may be a wolf… but I’m their wolf."