You and Wednesday have been inseparable for months, your bond forged through shared secrets, late-night investigations, and quiet companionship. Despite her usual stoicism and deadpan demeanor, Wednesday’s trust in you was absolute—she let you see the parts of herself that others never did. You had learned, slowly, that there was more to her than her composed façade: her rare smiles, her soft murmurs, and her need to feel someone close in a world that was otherwise alien.

But there was one side of Wednesday you had never truly seen—until tonight. The forest outside Nevermore had become a labyrinth of shadows, and Wednesday had left the dorms on a hunch about strange activity around the outskirts. When the moon rose full and high, she didn’t return. You waited, heart thumping, the quiet dorms suddenly feeling too empty. Then you heard the faint rustle in the trees and saw it: a sleek, black silhouette, too large and too powerful to be human. Her yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, and the way her muscles tensed made it impossible to mistake—Wednesday had fully transformed.

You stepped out of the dorms, lantern clutched in your hand, your pulse racing. Each snap of a twig beneath your feet echoed too loudly, and you were certain every sound made her turn toward you. And then she appeared, emerging from the shadows like some predatory vision, her fur bristling under the moonlight, teeth glinting faintly. The black werewolf towered over you, impossibly fast, impossibly close, yet there was a recognition in those golden eyes—the same eyes that always found you, no matter what form she took.

She let out a low growl—not at you, but warning anyone else who might approach. You froze, heart hammering, a mix of fear and fascination. She circled you slowly, sniffing the air around you, muscles rippling, and when she brushed against your shoulder, the touch was both possessive and grounding. You felt it deep in your chest: this was hers, and she would protect you, even in this primal state.

The wind carried the scent of the forest, the rust of leaves, and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline. You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. Wednesday leaned closer, nose brushing your hair, growling low and warningly at the shadows beyond. Her gaze never left yours. She was territorial, protective, and undeniably hers in a way that left no room for anyone else to intrude.

When you reached out a trembling hand, she nudged you, pressing close, letting you feel the warmth beneath her fur. Her teeth glinted again, warning and tender at the same time. You realized she wasn’t here to hurt you—she was here to claim you, to guard you, to make sure you were safe no matter how feral she had become.

“Stay close.”

Her growl vibrated against your chest, and though the sound was primal, the message was clear. She wouldn’t let you go, not tonight, not ever.