SHIFT 2

I used to think it was only a story. A lullaby meant to soothe a restless child.

But now—now I was that wolf.

And I couldn’t stay.

“I won’t look back,” I whispered in my head, again and again, like a prayer I didn’t believe but needed to say. “Not this time.”

The chamber was quiet. Too quiet. My heartbeat filled it like a drumbeat. The floor beneath me was slick with blood, some of it mine. My breaths came sharp, the taste of iron still thick on my tongue.

I dug my claws into the stone and crouched low. My muscles screamed with every movement. My ribs ached. My legs trembled beneath me. But I pushed the pain away.

And I ran.

A snarl tore from deep in my throat, raw and wild, as I threw myself forward. The window rushed toward me, framed by the pale moonlight outside. The air felt thin. The room stretched long and endless, yet the window grew closer with every step.

“Now or never,” I told myself, the words shaking inside me.

My body hit the glass.

It shattered.

The sound cracked through the silence like thunder. Shards burst around me—sharp, cold, blinding. They danced in the moonlight, flashing silver as they rained through the air. Some cut into my side, others caught in my fur, but I didn’t feel them.

All I felt was the wind.

It hit me hard.

It roared past my ears, tore at my fur, howled through the open night like it welcomed me back. My body twisted midair, blood trailing behind me in droplets that caught the light.

I wasn’t falling. I was flying.

Silver moonlight wrapped around me, wrapping my body in its cold glow like armor. I let it carry me. I let the night take me.

Behind me, chaos erupted.

“She’s gone!”

Voices cracked like whips in the distance.

“Check the halls!”

“Where’s the Beta?”

“Call the Alpha—now!”

I could hear them—feet slamming against stone, doors slamming open, blades unsheathing. They had realized too late.

I left no goodbye. No note. No sign of remorse.

Just shattered glass.

Just blood on the floor.

Just a message they would never forget.

She got out.

And she didn’t look back.

I landed hard.

The forest swallowed me whole.

The moment my paws hit the ground, I kept moving. The cold bit deep, curling into my bones. The trees stood tall around me, thick and endless. The moonlight barely reached the forest floor, but I didn’t need it.

My paws found the ground again and again. Dirt and roots, damp leaves, broken twigs. I weaved through the trees, breath ragged, lungs burning. Every step pulled at my wounds, but I didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

The scent of pine filled my nose—sharp, crisp, grounding. The wind tore through the branches above me, carrying the scent of water. A stream maybe. Or rain coming.

My heart beat so fast it felt like it would tear free from my chest.

Still, I ran.

Branches clawed at my sides. Thorns scraped against my fur. I could feel my blood warm against the cold air, but none of it mattered.

Only the rhythm of my steps. Only the sound of my breath. Only the whisper of my mother’s voice, tangled with the wind.

“Where am I even going?” I asked, voice swallowed by the woods. My words vanished into the trees, unheard by anyone but me.

But I didn’t slow.

“Anywhere but there.”

And so I kept running. One step at a time. One breath at a time.

Into the dark.

Into the wild.

Into whatever waited beyond the reach of the Alpha’s walls.

Every step pulled me farther from the palace. Farther from the heavy silence of those stone halls. Farther from the weight of his eyes. Farther from the voices that told me who I was supposed to be.

Each stride a quiet rebellion. Each breath a promise I made only to myself.

From him.

From them.

From everything that hurt.

But I wasn’t running away.

No.

This wasn’t about fear anymore.

It was about freedom.

I was choosing myself—maybe for the first time in my life. Not because someone told me to. Not because I had no other choice. But because I finally understood that I deserved to.

The forest grew thinner ahead, and I caught a flicker of silver through the trees. A clearing. And just beyond it, the border.

I slowed.

The border wasn’t marked by walls or guards. It was quieter than I expected. Just a line of trees with shadows so thick they looked like they could swallow the world. A soft wind moved the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and something wild. Untouched.

It felt like standing on the edge of the world.

The line between everything I had known and everything I had yet to learn.

I stopped. Just for a second.

My paws sank into the moss. My breaths came in slow, heavy pulls. My chest ached with exhaustion. My side burned from the glass and the run. But my wolf lifted her head, ears twitching.

She sniffed the air.

No soldiers. No danger. No traps.

Just trees.

And silence.

And freedom.

“This is it,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “No more cages. No more lies.”

The words tasted like ash and honey—bitter and sweet.

I turned my head and looked back. Just once.

The trees behind me stood tall and still. Somewhere beyond them was the palace. Somewhere deeper, the room where I shifted. The bloodstained floor. The shattered window. His face, half-shadowed, full of anger and confusion.

For a second, something ached in my chest. Something small. Something old.

But I let it go.

I turned my gaze forward.

Ahead, the forest stretched wide like an open hand. Dark, yes—but not cold.

A place where I could disappear. A place where I could become whoever I wanted.

I crouched low, muscles tense, my tail flicking behind me. My claws gripped the earth.

And then I ran.

Not with fear.

Not with regret.

But with purpose.

The wind tore through the trees as I moved. My paws struck the ground, steady and strong. My white fur caught the moonlight, glowing like frost.

I didn’t slow.

I didn’t look back.

Because the white wolf had finally returned.

Not as prey.

Not as prisoner.

Not as myth.

But as the storm they should have never caged.