The wind played through his hair, the scent of fresh grass filled his nostrils, and the gentle whispers of nature rocked the horizon. Everything felt familiar, almost comforting.
And yet, Matis couldn't relax. He usually enjoyed solitude, especially in peaceful stretches like these. But ever since that strange dream, that disturbing awakening... he felt hollow. As if something was missing—something he couldn't name, much less replace.
Sitting in the shade of an old oak tree, he watched the sheep grazing quietly. His loyal dog eventually came to curl up beside him. A small smile tugged at the corner of Matis's lips.
« Anyway… dreams aren't supposed to make sense. Or they're meant to be weird. »
He brought two fingers to his lips, ready to whistle as he always did.
But no sound came out.
Frowning, he tried again. Once. Twice. Again. Still nothing.
He'd been using that whistle for years to gather the flock… and now it was as if he had never known how. As if the gesture itself no longer belonged to him.
« Alright then… old-fashioned way. »
He signaled to his dog, who immediately understood. Obedient as ever, the animal sprinted across the field to round up the sheep and guide them back to the farm.
« At least that… hasn't changed. »
But as he watched the flock following the dog, one sheep drifted away. Slowly, it disappeared into the forest, drawn by who knew what. The sun was nearly at the horizon, casting long and ominous shadows. In the distance, the first rumbles of a storm echoed in the sky.
« This can't be good… »
His heart clenched. That sheep belonged to the man who had woken him earlier with a bucket of ice-cold water. If he didn't find it, Matis didn't know what awaited him… but he knew it wouldn't be good.
Without a second thought, he ordered the dog to bring the rest of the flock back to the farm. Then, not bothering to think any further, he dashed toward the forest.
He knew these woods like the back of his hand. Every root, every trunk, every stone along the way—he had memorized them from years of running through, hiding in, and sometimes getting lost within them… though never truly lost.
So why did his steps feel so unsure today?
Normally, Matis could fly through this forest. No other village kid could keep up with him. He'd leap over roots, dodge branches without even looking, as if the forest itself made way for him.
But not this time.
His body struggled to keep up. Each step felt too heavy, too slow. He stumbled. His hands lacked precision. His balance faltered. He landed poorly, as if he'd never learned to run here.
And yet… he was certain he knew this place. Certain that if a patch of earth had been overturned, he'd notice it instantly. This was home.
So why did it feel like he was a stranger among these trees?
It was as if all those memories had been wiped from his mind… or worse, had never existed.
« Just like the whistle earlier… »
The words slipped from his lips in a whisper.
A creeping doubt began to settle in. What was wrong with him? Why did his own body feel… borrowed?
Before he could dive deeper into that thought, the first drops of rain began to fall—cold, sharp, like a brutal reminder that nature wouldn't wait.
The sheep's bleating, which had been helping him track it, was slowly drowned out by the rising noise of the storm.
Matis pushed on, ignoring the fatigue, the pain in his legs, the branches whipping against him. He ran without thinking, paying little attention to his surroundings, driven by one goal: find the sheep before it was too late.
And thankfully, his efforts paid off. He found it, soaked, trembling, stuck between two rocks. With a quick motion, Matis grabbed it, yanking it free—roughly, but relieved.
But something caught his attention.
Amid the thunder, the howling wind, and the hammering rain on the leaves, a different sound stood out. Clear. Distinct. A discordant note in the chaotic symphony.
A growl.
He turned.
A few meters away, barely visible in the dim light and flashes of lightning, stood a wolf.
Not one of those northern wolves he vaguely knew—the ones you sometimes saw from a distance, behind fences. No. This one was different. Bigger. Darker. Its fangs glistened in the rain. Its eyes… blood-red.
« Why… is there a wolf here? »
He knew wolves lived in the south, far from here. And even if he had gotten lost—confused his direction, which was already absurd—surely a guard would have stopped him before he reached such a remote area.
Something was wrong. Really wrong.
Ever since that morning, nothing had made sense. Nothing was in its place. And now… a wolf.
A wolf that didn't blink. That didn't retreat. That wasn't afraid of humans.
A wolf that was walking toward him.
Slowly. Deliberately.
And as if the universe had decided to push him further, fear struck him like lightning.
A visceral, absolute fear.
The kind that leaves no room for reason. The kind that devours you from the inside.
His legs refused to move. Rooted to the ground. As if the earth itself held him in place. His hands, clenched around the sheep's soaked wool, trembled faintly—but not enough to make him let go.
He had felt this before. This freeze. This paralysis in front of a threat.
But he couldn't remember when, or how. Just a blurry image, a distant echo… nothing clear. And honestly, he didn't care anymore.
Whether it had happened once or a hundred times no longer mattered.
The only thing that mattered now… was survival.
His heart pounded so violently it hurt. He felt like it might burst. The wolf kept advancing, slowly, its paws sinking into the mud, fangs bared, eyes locked onto him as if nothing else in the world existed.
« Move… move! »
But his body stayed mute. Trapped by that silent, suffocating terror.
Then, out of nowhere, the dog lunged at the wolf with a crash of teeth and mud. Taken by surprise, the beast recoiled under the attack, growling in fury, then tried to shake off the dog's relentless grip.
Now, the two creatures faced each other.
A silent duel, thick with tension. Neither willing to back down. No surrender. No truce.
The dog, though having struck first, was already wounded. His fur was stained with blood, his breath short. But despite his condition, the wolf didn't underestimate him. On the contrary. He now saw him as a serious threat—an enemy to be eliminated while he still had the strength.
So much so that he almost forgot about Matis, still frozen in place, trembling like a leaf as he watched.
Then… a thunderclap split the sky, like the starting bell of the fight.
The two beasts lunged at each other with fury. Claws against fangs. Bites for bites. A violent, brutal, macabre dance.
But alas, the wolf took advantage of a moment of weakness. He slammed the dog down hard, his fangs poised to rip out his throat.
Matis, powerless, watched the scene, his heart hammering. A few steps away, a sharp stone lay half-buried in the mud. It was the perfect moment. The perfect chance to intervene. Even the dog seemed to sense it, casting a final look toward his master.
But no. Matis's body still refused to move. Fear had frozen him again.
Seeing that help would not come, the dog, in one last effort, summoned his remaining strength and sank his teeth deep into the wolf's throat. The beast staggered, stumbled, and collapsed heavily, lifeless.
The danger seemed over.
Matis rushed to his dog, eyes filled with worry.
« You're okay? We need to get you back… we'll find someone to help you… »
But no sooner had he spoken than several pairs of eyes lit up in the forest's shadows.
« No… That's not possible… »
An entire pack stepped out of the darkness. Bigger, more menacing than the first. Their gaze locked on him—full of hatred and hunger.
Matis stepped back, panicked. He tried to call out to his dog.
« Come on… stay with me! »
But when he turned, he saw the animal fleeing, limping, not even looking back.
« Why…?! »
Had it realized its master wouldn't help? Had it sensed the fear, the abandonment? Or was it just pure instinct?
The wolves didn't wait any longer. With a unified cry, they leapt toward Matis.
Fangs sank in. Claws tore. And when the pain became unbearable—when he felt his mind slipping into darkness—
« Kazak, wake up! »
His eyes flew open. He was drenched in sweat, gasping for air.
« Where… where am I? »
In front of him, a man with furrowed brows was staring.
« You must've had a bad dream. Come on, get back to your students. They're waiting for you. »
Kazak slowly sat up in bed. His heart still pounding, he tried to gather the fragments of his dream, but nothing came back. Just a vague impression of violence… betrayal… fear.
And when he tried to stretch, a strange sensation stopped him. A stiffness in his neck. Subtle… but unmistakable.
« What are you waiting for? Hurry up. »
« Yeah, yeah… I'm coming. No rush. »
But something was off. He could feel it.
Even if he didn't know what.