Heir of The Werewolf Blood

Chapter 2 I Will Back

"Harry."

The voice wasn't loud. It was almost drowned out by the rustle of the morning wind. But it was enough to make Harry's body go rigid instantly.

He stood at the edge of the trees, one foot still planted on the damp forest soil, the other barely touching the foreign, hard ground. The city light crept slowly over the horizon, pale yellow, cold, and stinging his eyes. The smell of hot asphalt, exhaust fumes, and rusted metal assaulted his nostrils, so different from the scent of pine and wet earth that had been his world until now.

"Harry."

This time it was clearer. Closer.

He knew the voice, even before he turned around. The voice that had led him for years. A voice that never gave commands, yet was always obeyed.

Harry took a deep breath, then turned slowly.

Alpha stood a few yards behind him, precisely on the thin line between the forest shadows and the city light. The massive body stood tall, solid, as if integrated with the ground beneath it. The six other wolves crouched nearby, their eyes sparkling with alertness. Not one stepped forward. They knew this was the boundary. A boundary only Harry could cross alone.

"Alpha," Harry said finally. His voice cracked, far from the confident tone he intended to show.

Guilt weighed heavily on his chest, like a stone. He felt like a child leaving home without truly knowing where to return.

Alpha did not move. His golden-yellow gaze was deep and calm, filled with painful wisdom. There was no anger. No growl. Only acceptance.

Harry took one step back, his bare foot pressing into the forest floor for the final time. Cold. Damp. Familiar.

"I have to know who I am," he said, more firmly now, though his throat felt tight. "This isn't to disrespect you. Or what we have."

He raised his hand, palm open, a slight old gesture, a gesture of peace. The gesture of a pack member.

"I'm going to miss you," he continued softly. The words felt strange on his tongue. "I'm going to miss our nights."

Wolves don't cry. But hot tears still welled up in his eyes.

Silence enveloped them. A heavy silence, full of meaning, far deeper than human words.

Then Alpha raised his head.

He howled.

Not a howl of war. Not a hunting howl. It was a long, deep howl, full of loss. The sound wound through the pine trunks, rising toward the fading sky.

One by one, the other wolves joined in. A piercing chorus, celebrating and releasing.

Harry closed his eyes. The howl seeped into his bones, into his blood. As if the pack were marking his soul, binding him forever, even as he left.

"Thank you," he whispered.

When the sound subsided, Harry knew he mustn't look back. If he did, he would return. He would stay. And the question would kill him slowly inside.

He turned his back on Alpha.

He walked.

Throughout the night, Harry followed the line of the old, barely maintained highway. The cracked concrete beneath his feet felt hard and cold. Each step away from the forest felt like peeling away the protective layer Alpha had built around him.

He remembered his dreams. The painful light. The strange laughter. The feeling of being snatched away.

As dawn broke, concrete buildings began to loom ahead, cutting the horizon like broken teeth. The air grew heavier. There was no longer the scent of wet leaves. Only dust and pollution.

Harry stopped at the edge of the main asphalt road.

Cars sped by, their noise deafening. Much louder than the worst storm in the forest. Humans moved quickly, enveloped in clothing and purpose.

He touched his necklace.

Cold. Heavy.

I don't know how to be one of them.

But he had to try.

He stepped onto the sidewalk.

The sound of his leather boots hitting the asphalt seemed too loud. Several people glanced at him: his hair messy, his clothes shabby, his gaze wild.

He was an anomaly.

"Where do I even start...?" he muttered.

Suddenly

"HEY!"

A horn blared.

A large bus drove too close to the sidewalk, taking a sharp turn.

Harry's instincts flared.

He calculated the distance. Speed. Angle.

He jumped.

Not a human jump.

His body shot several meters, too fast. He landed in a narrow alley near a pile of garbage boxes, trying to dampen the noise.

His breath came in gasps.

"Damn it," he growled. "I can't do that here."

He leaned against the cold brick wall, trying to calm his heart.

Not far away, a pair of old eyes watched him from behind the shadows.

"Young man," a hoarse voice said, "you look like you just ran from a bear."

Or maybe, the voice continued, "from something far more dangerous."

Harry tensed.

He stared back at the old man, who had a thin body, a tattered long coat, and tangled white hair. But his eyes were sharp. Too sharp for an ordinary vagrant.

"I'm not looking for trouble," Harry said warily.

The man smiled faintly. "I'm not the one who jumped that far, kid."

Harry clenched his fists.

"What did you see?" he asked coldly.

"Enough," the man replied lightly. "Enough to know you're not ordinary."

Harry felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

The man stepped out of the shadows slightly. "Relax. If I wanted to shout, you'd be chased by now."

He looked at Harry from head to toe.

"Your name is Harry, isn't it?"

Harry's world stopped.

"What...?" His breath caught.

The old man looked at the necklace around Harry's neck.

"Your father used to wear that," he said softly.

Harry took one step back.

"Who are you?" His voice trembled.

The man smiled, but the smile wasn't warm.

"Someone who's been waiting for a long time," he replied.

"And believe me, kid, if you think that forest was dangerous..."

He took a step closer.

"...you haven't seen anything yet."

Harry opened his mouth to ask...

But the man whispered first,

"Now there's only one question."

He stared deeply into Harry's eyes.

"Are you ready to know why you were there, what happened that night, kid?"