Lena's POV
The morning light was soft, barely creeping through the curtains when I woke to a low, soft whimper. My eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, everything felt unfamiliar. My brain was slow to catch up with the reality around me. Then I saw him—the dog. He was still curled up on the blanket I'd laid out for him last night, a quiet figure against the fabric. His amber eyes locked onto mine, and I froze for a second. There was something in that gaze—something that felt like it was trying to say more than just a simple hello.
"Morning," I mumbled, my voice rough from sleep as I sat up. Stretching, I winced at the stiffness in my back. I glanced over at him, and he let out a low, rumbling sound that almost seemed like a response. I blinked, unsure if I had imagined it.
I shook my head and pushed myself up from the bed. The cool air of the room brushed against my skin as I moved toward the kitchen, the quiet morning settling around me like a blanket. The smell of coffee began to fill the air, and I found myself moving on autopilot. The dog—Asher, I decided at that moment—watched me from his spot on the floor, his head resting on his paws. His gaze never wavered.
"You're quite the charmer, huh?" I said, half-smiling as I set a bowl of water down in front of him and grabbed some leftover chicken from the fridge. "Don't get used to it though. This is just temporary."
He didn't seem bothered by my words. Instead, he devoured the food in a way that made my heart ache. He ate with such hunger, like he hadn't had a real meal in days. I could see the ribs under his fur, the scruff of his coat matted in places. The gash on his side had healed somewhat, but it still looked painful, a raw reminder of whatever he had been through before he found his way here.
As I sipped my coffee, my eyes wandered back to him. He was still watching me. There was something about the way he studied me, the way his eyes followed my every move, that made me feel like he understood more than I gave him credit for.
"What should I call you?" I asked, setting my coffee mug down and leaning back against the counter. I was only half-joking. He deserved a name. "Dog" was too impersonal, and "Buddy" didn't feel right either.
He tilted his head, his ears perked up, and I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.
"Alright, no need to get all dramatic," I said with a laugh, reaching up to rub the back of my neck. "You're not getting off the hook that easily. I'll figure something out."
The names ran through my mind—Max, Charlie, Rex. None of them felt like they fit. I needed something strong. Something that made sense, something that suited him.
Then, it hit me. There was a name from a book I'd read years ago—a warrior's name, one that always stuck with me.
"Asher," I said aloud, testing the name on my tongue.
The dog lifted his head, his ears perking up at the sound. He stared at me, his eyes like little pools of amber, deep and steady.
I smiled. "Asher," I said again. "What do you think?"
To my surprise, he let out a soft bark, almost as if he was answering. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Asher it is, then," I said, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction as the name settled into the space between us.
From that moment on, the dog was Asher. And something in me—something I couldn't quite put my finger on—felt right about it.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Asher stuck by my side like a shadow, never straying far from me. Whether I was folding laundry, putting together a report, or just sitting with a cup of coffee, he was there, watching me with those keen, intelligent eyes. At times, I felt like he was more than just a dog. I caught myself wondering if he could understand me, if he was somehow reading me in ways I couldn't see. But no. He was just a dog. A very smart one, but still just a dog.
In the afternoon, I decided to take him outside. The sun was shining, and the crisp air felt good against my skin. I grabbed an old scarf from the closet, tying it around his neck as a makeshift leash. He didn't protest, just looked at me with those knowing eyes as I led him into the backyard.
He sniffed the grass, his nose twitching with every new scent. He circled a tree, then paused to study a patch of flowers growing in the corner of the yard. For a second, he seemed almost normal—a dog enjoying a simple moment of freedom.
"This is your chance to stretch your legs," I said, watching him trot across the yard. "But no digging up my flowerbeds, got it?"
He barked once, as if to agree, and I couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to have him here, even for just a while.
But then, as I watched him explore, a thought nagged at the back of my mind. Where had he come from? Did he have an owner? Was someone looking for him? I pushed the thoughts away. I'd only had him for a day, but already, I couldn't stand the idea of him going back out there. The thought of losing him—of him disappearing into the unknown again—made my chest ache in a way I wasn't prepared for.
I turned my back for just a moment to look at the sky, but when I glanced over my shoulder, Asher wasn't where I'd left him. Panic flickered in my chest, but then I saw him again. He was standing still, his head low, eyes fixed on something beyond the fence.
I slowly approached, careful not to make any sudden movements. My breath caught in my throat as I followed his gaze. There, in the distance, just beyond the tree line, I saw a shadow moving. It wasn't a person. It wasn't an animal. It was something else—something bigger, something that made my skin prickle.
I called out to Asher, but he didn't respond. His attention was fixed on the shadow, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something… warning.
The air around me seemed to grow colder. I felt a chill crawl down my spine, but I couldn't move. I was frozen, staring at the shadow that was slowly moving closer, closer.
And then, before I could react, I felt it—a shift in the air, a presence I couldn't explain.
Suddenly, Asher growled. Low. Deep. A sound I'd never heard from him before.
The shadow stopped. Then, it turned.
And for a brief moment, I swear, I saw two pairs of eyes staring back at me from the trees. Two sets of amber eyes.
I took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. Something was out there. Something that wasn't just a shadow.
And Asher—Asher wasn't just a dog.
"Who are you?" I whispered under my breath, my voice trembling.
But Asher's growl deepened, and in that moment, I understood—this wasn't just a random encounter. Something bigger, something far more dangerous was about to unfold.
And I had no idea what I was about to get caught up in.