The moon hung high above the clearing, casting silver pools of light across the forest floor. The ancient trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches whispering secrets to the stars. Somewhere deep in the forest, an owl hooted—low, mournful.
Opal sat at the base of a gnarled oak tree, the bark rough against her back, the chill of the night curling around her ankles. She twisted the charm bracelet on her wrist, the tiny wolf charm spinning like a compass that couldn't settle.
Her brothers were scattered nearby—close enough to hear one another breathe, but spaced out just far enough to give the illusion of solitude. They were restless. Quiet. A kind of silence that hummed with unspoken emotion.
Tomorrow, they would shift.
For the first time.
Opal didn't know whether to be thrilled or terrified.
Ridge paced near the edge of the clearing, his hands shoved into his hoodie pocket. "Can you feel that?" he muttered, eyes narrowed. "The whole forest feels like it's holding its breath."
Brooks, sitting cross-legged with a notebook in his lap (because of course he brought a notebook), didn't look up. "It's like static in the air. Like we're sitting inside a storm cloud just before the lightning hits."
He shivered and glanced up. "It's unsettling."
Ash stood still, arms folded, back straight, face like carved stone. "It's the Moon Goddess," he said quietly. "She's watching. Preparing us."
Opal exhaled, her fingers loosening around the charm bracelet. She could feel it too—like a pressure in her chest, like the earth itself was whispering through her bones.
And then—
"Wow," came Forrest's voice, breaking the tension like a firecracker at a funeral. "This is dramatic as hell. If any of you start reciting poetry, I'm out."
Opal looked up just in time to see him sitting cross-legged on a log he'd probably dragged there himself, one arm draped across his knee like he was posing for a painting.
"Tell me this isn't giving full cult initiation vibes," he added. "The moon. The drama. Ridge pacing like he's about to confess to murder. It's very 'twilight werewolf starter pack.'"
Opal couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're impossible."
"Impossible?" Forrest gasped. "I'm the glue holding this emotional disaster crew together."
"You're the glitter glue that got into everyone's hair and ruined a perfectly good carpet," Brooks muttered.
"Thank you," Forrest said, bowing with a flourish. "I accept that with pride."
Ash let out a breath that might've been a laugh—maybe.
Ridge just sighed. "Can you take anything seriously?"
Forrest gave a solemn nod. "I did. Once. For like, seven minutes. It was terrible. Got hives."
Opal's smile faded slightly as she looked up at the moon again. "Do you think she's coming?" she asked. "Azeala?"
The name felt heavy, even spoken softly. Like it could draw her out of the shadows.
Ash's shoulders stiffened. "We don't know."
"If she does…" Ridge said, stopping mid-step. "We'll be vulnerable. Mid-shift."
Brooks frowned, scribbling something in his notebook. "Then we need to figure out how to protect ourselves even if we can't speak. Communicate somehow."
"You mean like… mental Morse code?" Forrest asked. "Because I swear I've already invented at least two telepathic systems based on eyebrow twitches and sarcasm."
But no one laughed that time.
Not until—
Opal blinked. "Wait."
Brooks looked up. "What?"
"I felt you," she said slowly, eyes on him. "Just now. You were thinking something. About Ridge's pacing."
Ridge spun. "What about my pacing?"
Opal tilted her head. "I didn't say it out loud… but I was teasing you in my head. And Brooks… you smirked like you heard it."
Brooks looked stunned. "I—I thought I imagined that."
Ash narrowed his eyes. "Opal. Think something. Direct it at Forrest. Something dumb."
Forrest grinned. "Make it a compliment. Or a glowing review of my jawline."
Opal smirked and closed her eyes. She pictured Forrest clearly in her mind.
You look like you styled your hair with static electricity and spite.
Forrest gasped so dramatically he nearly fell off the log.
"Oh my goddess. I heard that! In my head! You little monster!"
Opal burst out laughing. "You heard it?!"
"You said my hair looked like 'static electricity and spite!' Which is rude, but also accurate!"
Ridge stared at them. "Are you messing with me?"
Ash shook his head slowly. "No. No, I feel it too now. You—Brooks—you're worried. About tomorrow. About if we lose control."
Brooks's hand tightened around his pen. "Yeah."
Ridge's expression shifted. "I can feel that. I can feel all of you."
A long pause.
Then Forrest stood, clapping his hands. "Well, guess what, suckers? We've evolved. We're officially the psychic wolf-pack Power Rangers. I call dibs on the red one."
"This isn't a cartoon," Ash said flatly.
"Speak for yourself, mister Alpha Scowl," Forrest shot back. "We can literally hear each other's thoughts. Feel each other's emotions. That's insane."
Brooks's face was flushed with awe. "It's not just communication. It's deeper. Like… emotional resonance. Like we're one heartbeat with five bodies."
Ridge closed his eyes. "I can feel your fear, Opal."
Opal froze.
And then Brooks whispered, "I can feel Ash's."
Ash looked away, jaw clenched.
Opal reached out mentally, gently. > Ash?
We have too much at stake to let fear rule us, came the automatic, cold response.
You're allowed to be scared, she said. So am I. But you don't have to carry it alone.
There was silence in the bond. Then—
I'm terrified, Ash admitted. Not of the shift. Of losing one of you. Of being too slow. Too weak. Too late.
She stood and crossed the clearing, wrapping her arms around him without a word.
One by one, the others joined. Brooks, silent. Ridge, steady. And Forrest—sniffling dramatically and muttering, "If anyone tells the pack I hugged you losers, I'll deny it and burn the evidence."
"Emotion is weakness," Ash said, voice low.
"No," Opal whispered. "Emotion is what makes us strong. It's what makes us us."
They stood like that, huddled in moonlight and quiet, the night wrapping around them like a prayer. Their bond wasn't just blood anymore.
It was voice.
It was thought.
It was truth.
As they pulled apart, Forrest cleared his throat. "Okay, okay. Group hug complete. Deep emotional breakthrough achieved. Can we talk about the real question now?"
Ash raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"
Forrest grinned. "Do our wolves get different voices? Because if mine sounds like a middle-aged British man, I'm naming him Gerald."
Opal groaned. "I'm ending this bond. Right now."
Too late, Forrest sent gleefully into all their minds. You're stuck with me forever, dandelion queen.
Ridge sat back down, shaking his head. "We really are doomed."
Brooks just chuckled. "But we're doomed together."
And as the fire crackled and the moon dipped low, the five of them sat shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing unspoken thoughts, laughter, and quiet truths.
Tomorrow, the world would change.
But tonight?
They were pack.
They were home.
And that was enough.
The fire crackled gently in the center of the clearing, throwing shifting shadows over the five figures huddled close together beneath the moon. Their laughter had faded into soft murmurs now, replaced by a quiet stillness that settled over them like a shared blanket.
Ash had finally unclenched his jaw. Brooks had stopped sketching theories into the dirt. Opal leaned into her brothers' warmth, her heart full for the first time in weeks.
And Forrest?
Forrest had begun humming.
Loudly.
Off-key.
With increasing intensity.
"Are you… are you humming the theme from Titanic?" Ridge asked, his voice tight, eyebrows raised.
Forrest paused only long enough to beam proudly. "It's called emotional ambiance. You're welcome."
Ridge's eye twitched. "We're literally on the brink of a transformation that might tear our bones apart, and you're doing interpretive musical numbers?"
Forrest gasped dramatically. "I'm sorry, did I accidentally interrupt your brooding session? Shall I fetch your angst robe?"
Ash groaned. "Here we go."
"You're unbelievable," Ridge muttered, rubbing his temples. "Can you go five minutes without acting like a walking meme?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Forrest snapped back, planting his hands on his hips, "I didn't realize this was a monks-only full moon gathering. Should I start chanting and shave my head for the vibe?"
Opal blinked. "Please don't shave your head."
"I'm just saying," Ridge said, voice rising, "not everything is a joke, Forrest. We're shifting tomorrow. You think being the comic relief will save us if something goes wrong?"
Forrest's grin faltered. "Better than being the human anxiety spiral in cargo pants."
"Oh my goddess," Brooks whispered, wide-eyed. "It's happening. We're witnessing a Ridge–Forrest meltdown. This is a historic moment."
"I am not an anxiety spiral—" Ridge snapped.
"Bro, you flinched when a squirrel dropped a nut earlier," Forrest said, gesturing wildly. "You literally asked if it was a warning shot."
"It fell from ten feet!"
Opal, trying and failing not to laugh, waved a hand. "Okay, okay, break it up."
But neither of them stopped.
"You never take anything seriously," Ridge snapped.
"You treat everything like it's a military operation!" Forrest barked.
Ash muttered, "I vote we just let them wrestle. Last man standing gets to be least insufferable for a week."
"I'd win," Forrest said immediately.
Ridge snorted. "Please. You once fell into a snowbank trying to 'parkour' over a log."
"That log attacked me. It was malicious and I stand by that."
Opal stepped between them and held up both hands. "Enough! Seriously. I don't care whose wolf is bigger, or whose dramatic flair is more annoying."
It's Forrest's, Ash and Brooks said at the same time, through the bond.
Rude, Forrest muttered.
Opal rolled her eyes. "Look, we all cope differently, okay? Ridge worries. Forrest jokes. Ash growls. Brooks nerds. I... cry into my pillow and pretend my life isn't one long supernatural fever dream."
Forrest blinked. "That's fair."
Ridge let out a long breath. "Fine. Truce. But if you start singing Celine Dion again, I swear—"
"I make no promises," Forrest said with a wink.
Ash chuckled—an honest-to-Moon chuckle—which startled everyone into silence.
"I didn't know you could laugh," Brooks said, eyes wide.
"Neither did I," Ash muttered.
It's unsettling. Make him stop, Forrest sent, dramatically shielding his face.
Keep talking and I will.
"Okay," Opal said, collapsing into the grass with a groan. "New rule. No more arguments unless it's about snacks, actual threats, or who gets the last brownie when this is all over."
Brooks held up a finger. "Actually, I believe the last brownie was already claimed and labeled 'Brooks's Emotional Support Brownie.'"