Before I was born, my parents had lived in a different pack. Though I barely remembered, flashes of jagged mountains in the distance and the sticky, humid air would sometimes come to me. We hadn’t stayed there long-not nearly long enough for me to form lasting memories.
Standing in the house now, it felt oddly familiar yet foreign. The place was modest but immaculately kept. A large navy sofa hugged the far wall, cluttered with old dolls and scattered coloring books. Broken crayons dotted the floor, and to the left was a small kitchen, while a narrow staircase wound up on the right.
Sudden, joyful giggling drew me toward the front door. I opened it, stepping onto a small concrete patio. There, in front of the house, was a younger version of myself. I couldn’t be sure of my exact age, but this was from long before Dad had died, before we’d moved to Leonardo’s pack. I sat in the tall grass, plucking tiny white flowers and carefully tucking some into my hair, stuffing others into the pockets of my dress. My hair was pulled back into two little braids, dirt smudged across my cheek, oblivious to any mess.
With hands full of white flowers, I toddled over to the patio, proudly arranging my little collection on the concrete. My eyes flicked to the small patch of forest beside the house, where I looked longingly, clearly wanting more flowers. I could sense what my younger self was thinking-she wanted something new, something special to bring to Mom and Dad.
Then I heard voices from the side of the house. One was my mother’s, a voice I’d recognize anywhere. The other, though harder to place, was my father’s-his laughter rich and full, echoing through my memories. Mom’s teasing reply turned into laughter, and the warmth of their joy enveloped me. I didn’t have many memories of my father, but I’d never forgotten how much he loved my mom. We were his entire world.
The younger me glanced back toward where they were, still unseen from the front of the house. Then, with a determined little look, I crept toward the forest, sneaking glances over my shoulder as if ensuring they couldn’t see me.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I muttered, reluctantly following my past self into the trees.
I couldn’t have been older than five or six. I stumbled through the forest, gleefully collecting large, colorful leaves that had fallen. Autumn was just around the corner; the leaves were a stunning blend of red, gold, and brilliant green. In a small clearing, younger me let out an excited gasp-flowers were everywhere, bursting in vivid purples, yellows, and reds. I plopped down and began picking them one by one, giggles filling the air as sunlight illuminated the chocolate braids laced with faint silver strands.
A chill ran down my spine as I focused on the flowers. They were too vibrant, almost unnatural, their colors far brighter than they should have been. The petals seemed to glow under the sunlight, with small luminous bulbs nestled at their centers.
The crunch of leaves at the edge of the clearing startled me, and I turned in horror as a portal shimmered open, and three figures stepped out. Tall and lithe, they were male but unmistakably Fae, with pale blue skin, onyx hair, and long, pointed ears. They wore strange attire, nothing like anything I’d seen. It took younger me a few moments to notice them, but when she did, her eyes went wide with fear.
“Mommy!” I heard the little girl’s voice wail, panic coloring her every word.
“Shhh, little one.” One of the Fae men whispered, his voice a hiss that only heightened her fear.
“Daddy!” She screamed, flowers flying from her hands as she scrambled to her feet.
One Fae muttered something to his companions in a language harsh and hissing, like the sounds of snakes. Despite their thin, elongated frames, they were horribly fast. Younger me let out a desperate wail as one of the Fae men scooped me up, holding me firm despite my wild thrashing, kicking, and clawing. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I beat my tiny fists against any part of him I could reach, fighting with every ounce of strength.
Through the forest, I could faintly hear my parents shouting, their voices frantic. Fear surged through me, so strong it felt like it might break me. How had I forgotten this? This memory, so dark and raw, should have been unforgettable.
As the Fae dragged me through the portal, everything faded, leaving only the wild thumping of my heart. A few moments later, my parents burst into the clearing, fear etched on their pale faces. Dad’s eyes locked onto the still-open portal shimmering in the air, a wavering film of reality itself. His gaze, identical to mine, looked hollow with terror.
“They took her!” Mom sobbed, digging her nails into Dad’s shoulder. Her eyes, full of agony, glistened with tears.
Without a word, Dad tore himself from her grasp, his resolve a fierce glint in his eyes. As he bolted through the portal, I followed close behind, drawn by the shifting scenes around us. The warm autumn forest transformed instantly, leaves replaced by snow-laden branches and a bitter cold that pricked at my skin. I struggled to keep up as Dad morphed into his large, brown wolf form, charging through the snow with powerful strides. His paws churned up little flurries, the scent of winter sharp and fresh.
In the clearing ahead, my child self was still struggling, kicking and clawing as hard as possible. The Fae hadn’t noticed my father’s approach, too distracted by my small nails scraping against their skin. Dad lunged at them, his snarls tearing through the air as he launched himself at the Fae. I tumbled into the snow as he tore into them with relentless ferocity.
I wanted to scream at my younger self to look away, but she watched with wide, frightened eyes as Dad ripped through them, his fangs flashing and his fur streaked with inky black blood. The snow was painted with the dark stain of Fae blood as he finished them off.
Then, out of the shadows, another creature emerged-a beast unlike any I had ever seen. It had the body of a lion, but its skin shimmered in the same eerie shade of blue as the Fae, covered in scales that glinted under the dull winter sun. Its slitted eyes landed on my small form, its gaze filled with nothing but hunger.
Dad charged forward, hackles raised, his snarl slicing through the forest air. But the creature lunged back, refusing to back down. They clashed, a brutal symphony of snarls and growls, as silver blood joined the scarlet already staining the snow. I watched as Dad tore at its throat, but not before the creature sank its fangs into his shoulder. His agonized whimper echoed in the frozen air, and the sight of his blood staining the snow would stay with me forever.