Several weeks had passed since my ordeal ended. Life in the village had found a fragile rhythm, though mistrust still lingered like a shadow. The villagers' wary acceptance of my master and me was tenuous at best. Each day, Red escorted me to a hidden spot deep within the forest, where the children gathered for lessons. It wasn't much—a clearing surrounded by towering trees that formed a natural barrier—but it was ours. The sun rose sluggishly, its soft golden light bathing the makeshift classroom in warmth, as if reluctant to disturb the peace.
The children were already waiting, some eager, others simply present because of their loyalty to Red. One girl, small and wide-eyed, raised her hand, her innocent curiosity piercing through the silence. "What is a dream, Anne?" she asked, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the rustle of leaves.
I knelt beside her, meeting her gaze. It was hard to answer a question like that, knowing the world they faced. Not all the children trusted me, but they came for Red's sake, if nothing else. I took a steadying breath. "A dream," I began slowly, choosing my words with care, "is something you wish for. Something you hope to achieve one day, when you grow up."
Her eyes lit up, and a shy smile spread across her face. "Then I want to go to school!" she declared, her voice ringing with determination. It was such a simple wish, and yet, in this place, it felt impossibly bold.
Leo, the self-proclaimed leader of the group, snorted from his perch on a rock. His dark eyes narrowed with disdain as he tossed a pebble into the dirt. "What nonsense are you spouting? We're not going to grow up," he spat bitterly.
"Yeah!" another boy chimed in, his voice tinged with anger. "We're at war. We'll grow up to kill them—your kind."
Their words cut like jagged glass, each one a reminder of the centuries-old hatred that divided this land. My chest ached as I looked at the younger children, their hope slowly dimming under the weight of those harsh truths. This war between the red foxes and the werewolves had claimed generations, leaving no room for dreams.
Red stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Enough, Leo."
The authority in his tone was undeniable, and the clearing fell silent, the tension still thick but no longer unbearable. I forced myself to focus, pushing the despair aside, and resumed the lesson. The sun climbed higher, filtering through the leaves and dappling the ground with golden light. The children's voices grew more animated as they engaged with the lessons, their momentary burst of energy masking the ever-present shadow of war.
When the day's lessons ended, we walked back to the village in companionable silence, the children's chatter fading as they dispersed. Red and I lingered on the path, the distant hum of village life growing louder with each step.
Red glanced at me, his brow furrowed with concern. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said. "Leo and the others... they don't understand anything else. They've grown up with this."
I gave him a small, tired smile. "It's okay, Red. They're just children. They didn't choose this world."
The path curved, and the village came into view. The setting sun painted the sky in fiery hues, a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned in my heart. Red's voice, soft and hesitant, broke the quiet.
"Why haven't you called your parents?"
I stopped, staring at the horizon. The vibrant colors blurred together as I grappled with the question. "I want to," I admitted. "But now isn't the time." My voice wavered, but I pressed on. "If I go back, it'll only stir more hatred. I promised you I'd help stop this war, and I mean it."
Red nodded, though his eyes betrayed the weight of my words. We walked on, but before we reached the village, a chilling whisper slithered into my mind.
"This way, Mr. Harold."
"Leave no one. Slaughter everyone you see."
"They'll never listen to peace. Kill or be killed."
I froze, my heart pounding. The voices were sharp and menacing, echoing in my head like the clash of steel. I clutched my temples, trying to block them out, but they only grew louder.
"Anne!" Red's voice broke through, urgent and worried. He grabbed my arm. "What's wrong?"
I looked at him, panic etched across my face. "The voices... why are they in my head?" My whisper was barely audible, trembling with fear.
Red's grip tightened. "What are you talking about? What voices?"
I knelt, the weight of the voices overwhelming. "Don't let the children go back to the village," I gasped. "I don't know what's happening, but something's wrong."
Red's expression darkened. He quickly instructed Leo to take the children back to the clearing and stay put. Once they were gone, he helped me to my feet. "Let's go," he said grimly.
We ran, the whispers still clawing at my mind. As we reached the edge of the village, the distant sound of screams shattered the air. My blood turned cold.
The village was chaos. Bodies littered the ground, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Red foxes stumbled through the carnage, bloodied and broken. Homes burned, their flames casting flickering shadows on the devastated scene.
Red rushed forward, searching for survivors. I followed, my heart racing. "What's happening?" I whispered, but no one answered.
Then I saw my master, her sword dripping with blood. "Master!" I called. "What's going on?"
Her expression was grim. "The wolves and your parents. They've attacked."
"My what?" The words hit me like a blow. Before I could process them, my parents appeared, flanked by Dale and the wolf who had saved me months ago.
"Anne!" my mother cried.
I didn't move. The sight of them amidst this destruction froze me in place. "Stop this!" I shouted, my voice cracking.
"Anne, come here now!" my father commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
But I stood firm. "No! Stop this madness! This has to end!"
My father's face twisted with anger, and in a flash, he transformed, lunging at me. I barely dodged, my training with my master the only thing keeping me alive. Red joined the fight, his movements a blur of fury. The village became a battlefield, the clash of weapons and cries of pain deafening.
The ground trembled, and a piercing scream split the air. Everything stopped as three figures descended from the sky, their silhouettes wreathed in shadows.
"Anne!" they called in unison, their voices ringing with eerie familiarity.
For a moment, even the war paused as everyone turned to face them.