Her gaze stayed on me. Not pushing. Not demanding. Just… waiting. The forest didn’t move. No wind. No birds. Even the leaves felt like they were holding still, listening.  

I couldn’t answer her. Not properly. Not with the way she was looking at me, like whatever I said next actually mattered. 

So I did the only thing I could. I dodged it. “Where… did he come from?” The question came out rough. Too quick. Not thought through. But it gave me something to hold onto. 

For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then her head dipped slightly, not disappointment, not irritation. Understanding. 

“You are not ready to answer,” she said quietly. “So you reach for something else.” I swallowed. She stepped back. Just one step. But it was enough. The pressure eased off my chest like a hand had been lifted. 

I hadn’t even realised how tense I was until that moment. “You may ask,” she continued. “But understand this… answers do not remove the weight of choice.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I fully understood. 

My eyes flickered towards the boy. He was watching me again. Not hiding. Not retreating this time. Just… watching. Like he was waiting for something. 

“I mean it,” I said, forcing the words out. “Where did he come from?” The wolf’s gaze shifted to him. “Nowhere that would make sense to you,” she replied. That didn’t help. I frowned. “That’s not an answer.” “It is the only one you will receive today.” 

Something in her tone shut the question down completely. Not aggressive. Just final. I opened my mouth to push again, but stopped. Because I realised something. 

She wasn’t avoiding the question. She was deciding what I was allowed to understand. That thought sat badly in my chest. I didn’t like it. But I didn’t challenge it either. 

Silence settled again. Thicker this time. Then— “I will not place him somewhere unfit.” Her voice cut through my thoughts. I blinked. “That is what you’re asking,” she continued. “Even if you don’t know how to say it.” 

I hesitated. “…I don’t know what I’m asking.” “That is the problem.” No judgement. Just truth. My hands clenched slightly at my sides. 

“I can’t just decide something like this,” I said. “I don’t even know if my family would—” “I know.” She cut in gently. Not dismissing me. Just… already ahead. 

“That is why I will not rely on your answer alone.” My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?” She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned slightly, glancing toward the direction of the village. Not looking at it. Measuring it. 

“I have watched humans before,” she said. That sent a quiet chill down my spine. “From a distance,” she added. “Long enough to understand what they show… and what they hide.” I didn’t like where this was going. 

“You live with them,” she continued. “You trust them.” Her gaze returned to me. “But trust, in your kind… is often given too easily.” Something in my chest pushed back at that. 

“They’re not like that,” I said, more defensive than I expected. Her eyes didn’t change. “Then there is nothing to fear.” That wasn’t reassuring. 

“If they are as you believe,” she went on, “then I will see it.” My throat felt dry. “…See what?” 

“How they behave when they do not know they are being judged.” That made my stomach drop. “You’re going to watch them?” “Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. 

“Tonight.” A long pause followed. I stared at her. At the certainty in her voice. At how casually she had decided something that… felt enormous. 

“You can’t just—” I started, then stopped. Because I didn’t even know what I was arguing against. She wasn’t asking for permission. She wasn’t negotiating. She was making a decision. And somehow… it wasn’t unreasonable. 

That was the worst part. “I won’t interfere,” she added. “I won’t reveal myself.” Her tone softened, just slightly. “This is not about you proving something.” It felt like it was. “It is about whether he can survive there… without breaking.” 

My eyes flickered to the boy again. He hadn’t moved. Still watching. Still waiting. That same strange feeling twisted in my chest. Like this decision wasn’t just about him. 

“…And if they’re not good enough?” I asked quietly. Her gaze sharpened, not threatening, but clear. 

“Then he returns with me.” No hesitation. No emotion. Just a fact. 

“And that’s it?” I asked. “Yes.” Something in me resisted that. Hard. But I couldn’t argue it. Because what was the alternative? Force her? Lie? I didn’t even understand what I was being trusted with. 

The silence stretched again. “You should go.” I looked up. “What?” “Your absence will be noticed.” I nodded. “…You’ll really be there?” “I already am.” That answer stuck with me more than anything else she’d said. I didn’t ask how. I didn’t ask where. I just… believed her. 

And that was its own kind of unsettling. I turned. Started walking. Then stopped. “…If they pass?” I asked without turning back. A pause. Then— “Then he will step into your world.” My grip tightened slightly. 

“And after that?” This time, the pause was longer. “Then,” she said quietly, “he will begin to change.” I didn’t know why that felt heavier than everything else. I didn’t ask anything more. I just left. 

I didn’t realise I was running until my lungs started burning. The village came into view too quickly. Too normal. People talking. Doors opening. Smoke rising from chimneys. Nothing had changed. Except everything had. 

I slowed as I approached the house. Tried to steady my breathing. Tried to act normal. It didn’t work. 

I burst into my room, shut the door, then froze. …My room looked like a grenade had exploded. 

Clothes everywhere. Books on the floor. Tools scattered like landmines. And my bed sheets were somehow on the window instead of the bed. 

I cleaned like a madman, folding shirts, shoving shoes under the bed, stacking books in crooked towers, wiping dust I didn’t even know existed. 

At one point, I even wiped down the inside of my closet, just in case she caught something I couldn’t. Stale clothes, damp wood, anything that might smell wrong to her. I didn’t know why. Instinct, maybe.

By the time I finished, my room looked tidy. Suspiciously tidy. But whatever, it was good enough for me. Dinner was ready.

The moment I stepped into the dining room, I began scanning. Corners. Shadows. The window reflection. The curtains. Behind the pantry door. The ceiling. Anywhere she could hide. Nothing.

I left my bedroom window open, very deliberately. A signal. An invitation. If she wanted to observe us, she’d have easy access.

Dinner started like any other. Which somehow made it worse. I barely touched my food. My mind kept drifting. To the forest. To her voice. To the way she had looked at me when she said he might break. 

“Quiet today, Ray?” she said warmly. “Long patrol?” 

“Yeah. Long,” I said too fast, eyes flicking again towards the window. Where was she? She said she’d watch. She had to be here. Right? 

Zeren squinted at me. “Long patrols usually make you complain, not turn into a mute vegetable.” “I’m not mute,” I muttered. “I’m just… thinking.” About the wolf watching us from the dark. About my words being judged. 

Time was running, and my brothers were still bickering about whether humanity advances by strength or intelligence, my mother was a referee to these daily debates we’d have at the table. 

I scanned the room one last time with my eyes half closed to not raise any suspicions. 

Still no sign of her. Not even a shadow. My heart sank a little. Maybe she wasn’t coming after all.

She did say she knew which ‘den’ I lived in.

Just when the hope started fading, a wild, reckless idea shot out of my mouth before I could stop it. 

“Mom… guys… what would you think if… we had another brother?” She blinked.

“Another? You already have two.”  “Yeah but they’re weird,” I said instantly. 

“EXCUSE ME?” both brothers snapped. I pointed at Hanno. “Muscle-head.” I pointed at Zeren. “Walking encyclopedia.” Mom almost choked laughing. 

“I mean someone my age,” I corrected. “Someone I can mess around with.”

Hanno leaned back, grinning. “Oh I’d love a little brother. I’d teach him wrestling till his arms fall off. Then strangle him—’’ 

Zeren cut him off mid sentence. “I’d make him read all my engineering manuals until his hair turns grey. Builds character and—’’ 

Hanno cut him off to seek revenge, ‘’Why? You found a homeless boy somewhere in the village ?’’ 

These were not the responses I was expecting. I shot a terrified look towards the window as if telepathically apologizing. Still nothing.

“I was just… curious,” I replied. “About if we would want someone else here.” 

“Ray… taking in someone new is difficult. Especially someone you barely know.” Mom began

“That kind of decision affects everyone,” she continued. “Not just you.” I nodded. “I know.” Hanno shrugged. “If they’re not useless, I don’t care.” Zeren sighed. “That’s not how that works.” “It should be.” Mom ignored them. Her eyes stayed on me. 

My stomach dropped. She continued, tone firmer. “I wouldn’t say no… but I wouldn’t say yes, either. It would depend. A lot.” Not warm. Not reassuring. The opposite. 

Hanno crossed his arms. “If he can’t keep up, he’s just dead weight.” Zeren shrugged. “And if he’s an idiot, I’m not babysitting him. I already deal with enough nonsense.”

These… These were the worst possible answers. 

The exact opposite of what the wolf mother wanted. She’d hear this. She’d take the boy deeper into the forest. I’d never see him again. 

My mother turned towards me, “But tell me something, Why did the idea make you smile just a minute ago?” I froze. I didn’t realize I was smiling. 

“I— I wasn't —” “You were,” she said gently. 

“I’m not against it. I just want to know… What made you think of it?” 

‘’Just… a thought.’’ I replied. 

Dinner dragged on. I barely tasted anything. I kept pretending to eat while my eyes kept drifting to the window, desperate for the slightest sign she was watching. But she never appeared. 

By the end of the meal, I was empty inside. 

I’d lost.

Up on the roof, completely invisible, near the chimney hole, the wolf mother listened. Her ears lowered. And outside, in the quiet night, a  wolf’s silhouette finally stepped back from the rooftop edge. 

Her decision was made.