Ayla woke up before dawn to prepare for a hunt. She was from a very poor wretched home. Her dad was a werewolf too but she was still waiting to Wolf out. Her younger brother, Clevo, had already wolfed out and yet she hadn't. The pressure was already too much on her as she never really understood why she took so long to Wolf out even after exceeding the required age, so she kept calm and waited for her time while still hiding it to avoid people from noticing it.
Something felt wrong the moment Ayla opened her eyes. It wasn't fear, not exactly, just a heavy feeling she couldn't explain. The moonlight still spilled through the cracks in their small home, pale and watchful. Ayla frowned. The moon should have faded by now. Instead, it lingered, as if refusing to leave.
Ayla's mother, Qadira, was not a witch by birth. Her powers came later in life, forced upon her through possession by her maternal household. It was never a choice she made for herself. Not long after, while still very young, she was forced into marriage with a werewolf, Federo, Ayla's father.
Qadira never accepted the marriage. Living among werewolves only strengthened her dislike for them, and the resentment followed her into motherhood. Giving birth to werewolf children was something she found deeply displeasing, a reminder of everything that had been taken from her. To her, they were not blessings, but symbols of a life she never wanted.
Life at the edge of the village was never quiet, yet that morning, Ayla noticed the stillness immediately. She rose quietly, careful not to wake her brother, and stepped outside to begin her chores. As she tied her hair back, she felt it again,that strange sensation of being watched, though the path before her appeared empty.
The moon felt so odd to her. She cooks, cleans, and prepares for the day's hunt. Federo organized training for her so that she would be able to Wolf out but all attempts failed as nothing happened.
That day, as Ayla walked down the street she felt eyes lingering on her as though she had committed a grievous crime, familiar faces turned away too quickly. Guards stood where they had never stood before. Paths she usually took were suddenly occupied, forcing her to change direction. Each time, an excuse was offered, silent, wordless, but firm.
She ignored the feeling and kept going.
Outside, the air was cold and unnaturally still. The path leading from her home stretched ahead, empty, yet Ayla felt a strange weight settle on her chest as she walked. She told herself it was nothing, just another restless morning, but her steps slowed all the same.
The moon hovered faintly above, refusing to fade completely, its pale glow brushing against the rooftops.She went into the wild forest to get some palm, her mum loved. She quietly walked through the deep dark forest while searching for the palm. Suddenly, she had footsteps and sounds, she quickly went into hiding but saw nothing still. She decided to forgo the palm and fetch water. She kept having a feeling that some thing wasn't right.
At the stream, she filled the pot and paused, listening. Voices drifted from the distance, low and hurried, stopping the moment she turned her head. When she glanced back, the path was clear again. Ayla frowned but said nothing, lifting the pot and heading home.
Her brother was awake when she returned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"You're late," he said softly.
She smiled and brushed his hair back. "You woke early."
He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. The moon was too bright."
Ayla stilled for a moment before forcing a laugh. "You worry too much."
They ate quietly. Outside, footsteps passed their home more than once, slow, deliberate. Ayla pretended not to notice, but her fingers tightened around her cup. When she finally stepped out again to begin her chores, she became aware of it clearly this time. Someone was watching.
Not close.
Not obvious.
But present.
She couldn't understand what was going on but a part of her told her that it wasn't anything good.
The village had long gone quiet under the night sky when a sudden knock sounded at the door.
Ayla looked up at once, her body stiffening. It wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made her chest tighten. Her younger brother shifted beside her, mumbling sleepily as he rubbed his eyes.
"Who is that?" he whispered.
Qadira did not answer. She was already standing, her expression unreadable, as though she had been waiting for this moment all along. She moved toward the door slowly, each step measured.
When she opened it, two elders stood outside. They did not step in. They did not raise their voices. Their calm unsettled Ayla more than anger ever could.
"Qadira," one of them said, "you are required at the council hall."
"For what?" Ayla asked before she could stop herself, stepping closer to her mother.
The elder's eyes passed over her briefly, then returned to Qadira. "That is not for you to know."
For a moment, Qadira said nothing. The night air slipped into the room, cold and sharp. Then she reached for her cloak, pulling it around her shoulders.
"Stay inside," she said quietly, her voice low but firm. She glanced at Ayla's brother, then back at Ayla. "Do not open the door for anyone."
Ayla nodded, though unease twisted in her stomach.
Qadira stepped outside without another word. The elders turned and walked away, their footsteps fading slowly into the darkness. The door closed behind them, the sound soft but final.
Ayla stood where she was long after, listening to the silence settle over the house. The moonlight crept through the cracks in the walls, pale and watchful. Somewhere in the distance, a low howl echoed through the night.
She kept feeling restless and scared. She was totally confused on what to do and her wouldn't even care if she told him.
Whatever the elders wanted, Ayla knew it had nothing to do with routine.
And whatever her mother had been called for, it was not something she was meant to hear.