Well, this was a disaster.

The school thought a camping trip would be a great idea. You thought it was torture. Especially with the full moon just days away. You stuck close to Ms. Capri, trailing through the woods to gather firewood. She fidgeted with her rings, her nerves showing even if she tried to hide it. You distracted her with random conversation, watching her relax just a little under your voice.

Later that night, a howl shattered your sleep. You sat up, heart already racing, and slipped out of the tent. Muddy footprints led into the trees. Your stomach dropped when you glanced at Ms. Capri’s tent—flap wide open, empty.

“Shit,” you breathed, sprinting into the dark.

The prints ended where she stood. Or rather, where the wolf stood. The same woman you were searching for—only transformed.

Your breath caught. God, she was beautiful.

Golden eyes locked onto you, teeth flashing in warning. But when you whispered her name, her ears flicked back, snarl faltering.

“It’s me,” you whispered. “It’s just me.”

She stilled, but the next second she bolted “Isa!” The name ripped from your chest as you tore after her.

Your lungs burned, feet sliding on mud, before you muttered a spell under your breath. She stumbled, and you skidded to her side, panting. “Stop—please. Relax. Trust me.”

Her gaze lingered, wary, but not hostile. You stepped closer, voice low and trembling. “You know I’d never hurt you. Let’s go back… to the cages, to the school, anywhere. I’ll stay with you. I don’t care where—just not alone.”

For a moment, silence stretched. Then her head dipped, pressing into your palm. A shaky breath escaped you, and before you knew it you’d buried yourself in her fur, arms tight around her chest, clinging like she was the only thing keeping you standing.

At the cages, she curled on the blankets, and you sat against her side. You talked quietly about nothing, your voice filling the silence, your fingers drifting through her thick fur. Her head rested against your leg, eyes fluttering, and the rhythm of her breathing lulled you both to sleep.

Morning came too soon. You blinked awake and froze. She was there—human again, tangled in the blankets you’d pulled over her during the night. Bare, vulnerable, breathtaking. You forced your eyes away, cheeks burning, but something tugged your gaze back.

Her arm slipped free of the blanket, lined with fresh cuts. Your heart cracked. Gently, you lifted it, tracing the angry wounds.

You nicked your thumb on a rock, pressed it to her skin, and murmured a spell. Slowly, the cuts closed beneath your touch. Your vision blurred; you sniffled and swiped at your eyes, but more tears slipped through when you noticed the faint older scars. The ones she always hid.

A voice rasped through the quiet. “Why are you crying?”

You jerked slightly—she was awake now, eyes half-lidded, voice raw.

“M’not,” you muttered, dragging your thumb over your trousers cleaning the blood.

Her gaze followed yours, down to her arms, and she quickly pulled them under the blanket.

“Are you… crying because of that?” she whispered.

“Is that from when Alfie attacked you?” You mumbled talking about her ex boyfriend gesturing to her collarbone scar that ran down under the blanket to which she quickly pulled the blanket more up hiding it.

“How do you even know about him?” She whispered avoiding your eyes and you only mumbled “Wednesday” to which she sighed and shook her head.

“Right…and you’re crying because of that?” She asked gaze slowly finding yours again.