Page 4 of My Shy Alpha

But I don’t think it’s past trauma talking tonight. Nature is beautiful but relentless. It’ll claim me if I let it.

Fuck. This is a bigger-than-fuck moment. I don’t want to die out here. What if they blame Jenny for my death, allowing me to chase my stupid, impossible dream into Greenfield Forest? They won’t find my body for days. Or maybe they won’t find it at all - Mom always warned me there are mountain lions, bears, wolves, and more out here. At least I could feed them for a few days. Vivid images scour my mind of chunks ripped from my flesh when–

I groan, recognizing this pattern as my lungs beg for mercy - I’m encouraging my intrusive thoughts again, worsening my anxiety.

Plopping onto the nearest log to soothe my burning legs, I breathe into the rustling canopies that stretch into the clouds. Trees crowd me everywhere I look.

Or maybe they’re protecting me. I settle into this uncertainty, allowing it to be.

Closing my eyes, I meditate for a moment. Within a minute, the chiming leaves in the wind fade into white noise. Retracing to the moment I left Jenny’s office, I deepen my breath with every snapshot I can remember.

I took the long way home, passing Mrs. Jensen’s farm. Her cows had already scuffled back inside, but the way the sunlight hit their stable warmed my heart.

I can’t be too far from there. Maybe this is the forest behind Mrs. Jensen’s house?

But I don’t understand what drew me here in the first place. The long way home hardly enters the forest. I take that trail more often than not, and I’m not the type to space out. I’m in therapy for over-noticing, leading to doubt, leading to more terrifying thoughts than I should have in a lifetime. What the hell lured me off my usual path?

The second I question it, a bubble forms in my core, expanding by the second. But it’s not just a bubble. It’s an urge so deep that my eyes snap open.

Something drew me here.

My heart stutters at this, but then it softens. Relaxing into its truth.

Maybe because this sequence of events is familiar. Strikingly similar to my repetitive, alluring dream.

No, wait, Aliya. Is this seriously about that dream again?

I groan, slapping my forehead as I grip the bark beneath me.

But I can’t deny it. Something deeper than my heart speaks, urging me forward. Urging me here.

This is irrational, isn’t it? Oh, God, I’m finally losing it.

But I’m here. In the forest.

Rage smothers the initial peace in my revelation. Like most days, I’m bitter about how much of my life was stolen. Maybe I should follow this urge. End my ridiculous fantasy, once and for all.

But my gut knows more; my soul is calling me. And it’s not letting me avoid it this time.

As I jump off the log, the bubbling urge in my torso expands until I have to fight to inhale. I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. I have to find out why.

I sprint in the direction of my heart. Turning a bend around the river as the sunlight disappears, I freeze; a nearby bush rustles enough to warn me it’s not the wind’s doing.

The animalistic instinct to run battles the urge pinning me in place, my body and heart facing off at equal measures. But forget light rustling, the whole bush quakes from an animal forcing its way through until even the trees framing it shake off leaves. Whatever is about to emerge, it’s enormous.

The bush splays to reveal the animal inside, starting with a black nose wider than my head. The predator’s fur blends with the brown and green thicket, more of a warped shadow in the fading daylight.

As I stare, it rises from a crouch, expanding to its full height. I blink a few times, ensuring my eyes are functioning.

I’m staring into the eyes of a wolf.

“Holy f–” My breathy whisper tenses the wolf’s limbs.

I can’t understand what I’m seeing. This “wolf” towers above any wolf I’ve ever seen - taller than a large horse. And this brown, glowering wolf is not what my soul called me toward.

My parents taught me about every Greenfield Forest predator, but they honed in on wolves in particular; we’ve heard them howling in the distance our whole lives. But besides this wolf’s gargantuan form, it doesn’t follow the rules Dad taught me: they likely just want to be left alone rather than waste energy attacking anyone. Which means I’m rapidly straying from Mom’s rules about what to do if I encounter a wolf: don’t ever, ever run. No, this wolf’s eyes burn into me as if I’ve personally aggrieved their entire family.

Did I stumble into a den? I’m dead, aren’t I?

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