The Call to the Wild
Gabrielle POV
I’m standing.
Not in my room. Not at home.
The forest breathes around me, moonlight silvering the leaves. The ground is cool beneath my bare feet, familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.
Leaves shiver, stirred by an unseen breath. Somewhere in the distance, something howls. Not a warning, not a threat.
A greeting.
The air is colder than it should be, yet my skin prickles with warmth.
I shouldn’t be here.
But my body knows the way.
Moonlight fractures through the canopy and something moves between the trees.
Watching.
Poised.
I’m being pulled.
Not dragged – not forced.
Called.
As I move deeper, the longing sharpens. He’s close – I can feel it.
The forest opens around me like it’s been waiting. Moonlight spills across my skin, warm instead of cold. That’s when I see him. His figure is barely visible – save for the ethereal glow of his eyes.
He doesn’t move toward me.
That’s what terrifies me.
He stands perfectly still, like a predator choosing patience over instinct – and somehow, that restraint makes him feel more dangerous.
If he feels the pull too, it doesn’t show.
I long for those alluring eyes to emerge from the shadows.
Time stands still while my body longs for the promise of an extraordinary encounter.
The air crackles with anticipation and my heart races. I edge closer, without a word. Drawn by an invisible force – like a moth to a flame.
As the wind rustles through the trees, I catch the most intoxicating scent. A mixture of pine and wildflowers. It stirs a strange ache within.
A tug. Like something reaching into my very core and pulling tight.
I’ve heard the she-wolves talk about feelings like this. I just never believed them.
I want to speak. I don’t know his name, but it sits on my tongue anyway.
The space between us tightens. The forest holds its breath.
And then he speaks.
In a single word he manages to sound both alluring and threatening in equal measure.
“Mine.”
The forest shudders.
So do I.
----
Consciousness creeps back in pieces. The forest fades last.
I come back to myself slowly, lying there for a second longer, staring at the ceiling. My heart still skids around in my chest as I'm released from somewhere I wasn't ready to leave.
I breathe.
Then swing my legs over the side of the bed.
“Nope," I mutter aloud, "Absolutely not doing this today.”
It was a dream. A weird, hyper-real, wolfy dream – but still a dream. That’s it. End of story.
I stand, and freeze.
My feet are filthy.
Not a little dusty. Not I-walked-around-barefoot-on-my-bedroom-floor dirty. Properly filthy. Dark smudges of soil streak my soles, grit packed into the creases of my skin like I’ve been... Running. Through woods.
I lift one foot, then the other, staring like they might start explaining themselves if I wait long enough.
“This is fine,” I whisper. “This is totally explainable.”
Behind my eyes, Tess’s voice immediately pipes up.
You sleepwalk now? Because if you do, we need to talk about engaging with strange men in the woods.
Or worse –
I’m calling you Little Red from now on.
I huff a quiet laugh before I can stop it.
I scrub at my foot with my thumb anyway. The dirt doesn’t budge.
Okay. Wash. Reset. Scrub away the stupid dream, the stupid feeling, the stupid...everything.
My phone comes to life.
TESS????: You went very quiet last night. Another mysterious woodland rendezvous, or a sugar coma from too much cake?
I stare at the screen.
Of course she would sense it.
I type back:
ME: Would you believe me if I said I just fancied an early night?
Three dots appear instantly.
TESS????: No ??
A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth.
ME: Showering. Will explain later. Maybe.
Probably not.
TESS????: Coward.
Also FYI Connor is already telling people you “glowed” yesterday. WTF?
TESS????: See you at school, moon goddess.
I groan, tossing the phone onto my bed.
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Just what I need.”
The bathroom light flicks on. I step onto the tile, leaving faint dirt marks behind me – proof I definitely do not want to think too hard about.
As the water heats, steam curls around the room, fogging the mirror. I step under the spray, sighing as warmth floods my skin.
I rest my forehead against the cool tile, eyes closed.
“It was a dream,” I tell myself again.
Only dreams don’t leave footprints.
The dirt washes away slowly, spiralling down the drain.
But the feeling doesn’t.
The pull. The word.
Mine.