Morning light leaked through the blinds, soft and heavy. 

I rubbed my eyes and stared at the clock. Too early for school, too late to back out.

Mom was in the kitchen, half-awake, hair tied in a loose bun. 

“Morning,” I muttered, grabbing a piece of bread. “Morning. You’re up early for once.”  She said, smiling faintly. 

“Yeah… got patrol later. Thought I’d get ready.” Not a total lie. Just not the truth either.

As she turned to the stove, I reached for the lunch box she was packing for my younger brother. “Can I get one too? Something small?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “You never eat lunch at school.” “I’m turning things around,” I said, forcing a grin. 

She laughed softly and handed me an extra pack. “Well, miracles do happen.”

If only she knew. 

Outside, the air smelled faintly like rain again. Streets still slick, uniforms still grey. The city was always the same shade of dull. 

I stopped by the academy entrance just long enough to log my name in the register. Guilt immediately followed. Tirpitz had always said discipline starts with showing up. And here I was, already planning to disappear. But I told myself it was harmless. Just a walk. Just the forest. 

The wind was colder than yesterday, brushing against my uniform as I stepped past the treeline. The air smelled of damp earth and moss. My shoes left soft impressions on the mud.

I searched where I’d been yesterday. Nothing. 

The clearing was quiet, the branches still dripping from the dawn mist. 

I called out once, just to test it. “Hey! Wild kid? You out here?” Silence. Just the distant rush of the stream. 

I stayed until noon, walking circles through the same patch of forest, half-hoping he’d just appear again,  out of the mist, chasing another deer, wild and alive like before. But he didn’t. 

By late afternoon, I gave up. “Alright,” I muttered, kicking at the dirt. “That’s it… for today.” Maybe he’d gone deeper. As I was walking back, leaves crunched somewhere ahead. 

There, movement near the ridge. Amber eyes caught the sun first, then the shape took form. 

A wolf. A young but large wolf. Young enough to be considered the littlest in the family, but big enough to kill a man if needed.

It stepped closer. I felt the distance between us hum with quiet tension.

Then, a sound. The distinct click of my forest tracker, which was accidentally triggered.

The wolf flinched violently, misinterpreting the noise as threat. 

In a flash, it snapped at my pant leg, teeth grazing the fabric. 

Instinctively, my hand darted at the first sharp object I could find. A I found a thick branch nearby and pressed it against a rock to expose the sharpness.

The wolf kept biting. It hurt. Not physically, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the wolf moving from biting my uniform fabric to actual flesh.  

My fingers were  gripping this new tool that I just made.

I could’ve stabbed him. I should’ve stabbed him. But I didn’t.

I saw something in those eyes, not rage, but confusion. The kind of look that made your eyes look bigger and meaner but without the forehead wrinkles. 

It stubbornly mistook my uniform as my skin. 

I realized this wolf had probably never been taught, or never needed, to kill a human before.

I lowered the half broken branch. Then, instead of stepping forward, I kneeled. 

The wolf let go. I was right. 

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the same packed lunch from the morning. Slightly crushed from the chase.

I unwrapped it and put it on the ground, not too close to me, but close enough for the confused beast to realise that it was from me. 

‘’You hungry ?’’  I asked, realising how ridiculous that was, considering I was its prey a moment ago. 

The wolf paused, eyes darting between me and the food. 

Slowly, it stepped forward, sniffed, then ate, cautious, and measured.. I didn’t move. I just watched. 

When the wolf finished, it glanced up once more, its expression unreadable,  and trots off into the mist. I decided I would give it one more try tomorrow, if nothing happened, then I guessed the wildboy would just become a memory of something I longed for my whole life. 

When I got home, the house was quiet except for the hum of machines from my brother’s room. 

He was the only one home today, tinkering with one of his projects, surrounded by wires and half-built drones. 

He looked up when I walked in. “You’re back early,” he said, frowning. 

“Didn’t you say you had afternoon patrol?” “Canceled,” I lied. “Why?”

“Dunno. I just heard noises from your room a while ago, thought you came home and forgot something.” 

My chest tightened. “Noises?” “Yeah. Like… someone walking around. Thought it was you.”

My stomach dropped. There shouldn’t have been anyone in there. I climbed the stairs fast, too fast, the wood creaking like it might give out. 

Inside, the windows were open, the curtain breathing in and out with the wind. A few of my books were on the floor, the drawer half-open, papers scattered. Not trashed…  searched. 

I went straight for the corner plank under my desk. The loose one. Kneeling, I pulled it open and reached inside. 

Cold metal. Still there. The chip. 

Twelve seconds of erased footage, the twelve seconds I’d risked so much for. 

My pulse slowed, but not by much. 

Someone had been here. They didn’t take it… which meant they didn’t find it. 

But they were looking. And why wouldn’t they be? Body cams record everything. Someone on the review team must’ve noticed the jump, a cut that shouldn’t exist. 

Twelve missing seconds in a military log isn't a “glitch.” It's a “reportable offense.” If someone suspected tampering, the next step would be a search. 

Attendance at the academy was monitored down to the minute. Missing two days was already a red flag. If they tied that to the cut footage, it’d look bad, really bad. The question was, who?

Tirpitz? No, he’d have said something. The review operator? Maybe. But all I saw was a kid. A wild, barefooted boy. Not some classified experiment. Right? 

For a moment, I considered destroying the chip entirely. But my hand wouldn’t move. Because if I did… it would mean admitting to myself that maybe, just maybe, this was something bigger. 

I sat back on the bed. My room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were leaning closer. That’s when I saw it. Something was missing. The old analog watch, the one that sat beside the lamp, was gone. 

My chest tightened. Not just because it was special, but because whoever had been here, they’d touched that. They’d gone through everything, for a watch. That old thing wasn’t worth much, except to me.

I pondered about it for a bit, until my mother and eldest brother returned home. I asked them if anyone had been in my room. None of them did. At that point, I just needed sleep, a sort of reset to help me manage my thoughts.

In bed, I told myself I’d go back to the forest one last time. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow I will attend patrol duty. Maybe next week, give it some time to settle my doubts away.  

Next week, If I didn’t find the boy, I’d move on. Pretend it never happened. I wouldn’t mind going back to my mundane lifestyle, if it meant not risking to suffer greater consequences.

A week later, I went back to the forest one last time. This was it. I couldn’t keep skipping compulsory sessions; Tirpitz would start asking questions. 

The air was warmer that day. The kind of warmth that hides unease beneath calm. 

I walked for hours, deeper this time, until my legs ached. Nothing. 

I sat by a fallen log, rubbing my eyes. “Man…,” I muttered. “Guess nothing will change.” I stood up, walked for a bit more, that’s when I heard it,  a sound, faint but distinct. 

A soft humming. Not human words, just a tune. Uneven, curious, almost childlike. I froze. 

The sound came from deeper ahead, past the thicket near the ridge. 

I moved slowly, careful not to step on branches, following it. 

Then, through the trunks, I saw him. The wild boy. Sitting on a hollowed-out tree trunk, legs swinging back and forth, sunlight spilling through the leaves above him. 

In his hands… my watch. 

Turning it over, tapping the glass, like he was trying to make sense of it. 

I stopped a few steps away, breath caught somewhere between fear and relief. He hadn't seen me yet. 

And in that still moment, I wasn’t sure who was more out of place,  the boy in the forest, or me standing there, heart thudding, realizing I’d finally found him again.