Chapter 3: White Wolf, Silver Strings

Just then, a gentle, haunting melody drifted in—sweet and strange, floating on the night air.

It started as a whisper, then grew—notes winding through the chapel, wrapping around them like a soft blanket.

The music was like a bubbling creek, like a warm breeze in spring. It made the air shimmer, and for a moment, everything felt possible. Honestly, it was like hope itself had come to call.

The black-coated man’s face changed instantly. He whipped around toward the door, eyes wide, as a woman in white slowly approached.

His bravado faltered, eyes darting to the entrance. The music grew louder, each note slicing through the tension as the woman appeared.

She was slender and stunningly beautiful, like a spirit out of legend. Her eyes were bright, wild, and full of secrets. She played a violin, the music swirling around her as she walked.

He backed away, teeth bared, as if the music itself was a threat. His hands shook. He looked ready to bolt.

He snorted, “So it’s you, you little pup! How dare you meddle in my affairs?” His voice was rough, the bravado crumbling at the edges.

The woman in white just smiled and kept playing her violin. The music wound tighter around the monster, binding him in a web he couldn’t break.

The music surged like a tide. The black-coated man grew restless. The shadows around him shrank. The whole chapel seemed to breathe easier.

He realized—too late—she was stronger than him. He tried to bolt for the door.

She watched him, eyes sharp, never missing a beat. She wasn’t about to let him slip away.

Her bow danced on the strings. With a sudden, piercing note, silver light burst from the violin, slicing through the air and striking the man’s chest.

He couldn’t dodge in time. The light hit him—he howled, his body twisting and snapping, the last echoes of the violin fading into silence. The chapel felt hollow, like the world was holding its breath.

The black wolf thrashed, rolling across the floor, claws scraping the wood. Then, with a final shudder, he lay still.

A hush fell over the chapel. Hank’s breath sounded loud in the quiet. The monster’s body shimmered, then faded, leaving nothing but a black scorch mark on the floor.

The woman in white slid her violin back into its case and crossed the room, her steps barely making a sound.

She looked at him and said, “You’re safe now.” Her voice was soft, but there was steel in it—a strength that made Hank believe her. He let out a shaky breath, the tension draining away.

Hank stared at her, awe and relief flooding through him. He tried to speak, but all he managed was a hoarse, “Thank you.”

He quickly got up, tipped his hat, and said, “Ma’am, you saved our hides tonight. Least I can do is know your name.”

The woman in white smiled slightly. “Call me Sylvia. I’ve watched over these woods longer than most can remember. When I saw you two in danger, I couldn’t just stand by. I’m a white wolf, born of these hills.”

Hank’s jaw dropped. He blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. A white wolf—real as daylight, standing right in front of him. He felt a shiver of awe and a strange comfort all at once.

He looked at Sylvia—she was breathtaking, wild and fierce, but there was kindness in her eyes. Her presence was commanding but gentle, a force of nature that made him feel both small and safe.

He said, “So that’s how it is. I gotta admit, you’re something else. Never seen anything like it.”

Sylvia waved him off, chuckling. “Don’t make too much of it. That black wolf’s been a thorn in my side for ages. You folks look like you could use a warm bed and a little peace—my cabin’s not far. Why not stay awhile?”

He glanced at Lila, who nodded, eyes wide but trusting. The woods were cold, and Sylvia’s offer felt like a lifeline. Hank hesitated, then decided to trust her.

He nodded, making up his mind. “We’d be grateful, Sylvia. Thank you.”

Sylvia smiled. “Wonderful. Please, follow me.” Her white dress caught the moonlight as she stepped into the trees, looking back once to make sure they followed.

Hank hurried after her, Lila close behind. The forest seemed quieter now, the night air softer. The three of them moved through the trees, the world feeling a little less dangerous with Sylvia leading the way.

Lila squeezed Hank’s hand, relief and gratitude flooding her chest. She glanced at Sylvia with awe, feeling a mix of admiration and hope. Maybe things would be okay after all.

Watching Hank leave with Sylvia, Lila thought, If I could be friends with her and spend my days here, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. A strange, wild hope flickered in her chest.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the woods after them, determined to see where this new road would lead.

Their laughter and chatter drifted through the trees as they walked, the tension of the night melting away. The forest seemed to open up, welcoming them in.

There, nestled among tall oaks and birdsong, stood a log cabin. It looked like something out of a story—smoke curling from the chimney, warm light spilling from the windows.

Sylvia led Hank and Lila inside. The walls were lined with shelves of old books and curiosities—dried herbs, feathers, and strange stones. The place felt lived-in, safe.

She invited them to sit and brought out coffee, pouring it into chipped mugs. The smell was comforting, and the quiet togetherness eased the last of their fear. They relaxed, letting the warmth of the fire soak in.

Sylvia looked at Hank. “You’ve got nothing left and nowhere to go. Why not stay here for now? Once you’re back on your feet, you can decide what’s next.” Her words were gentle, but she didn’t leave room for argument.

Hank swallowed hard, eyes shining. “Thank you, Sylvia. You don’t know what this means to us.” He looked around, hope flickering in his chest.

“Thank you for taking us in. I’m not much for sitting still, but I’ll pull my weight. Just don’t want to be a bother.”

Sylvia smiled, waving off his worries. “This place has a way of growing on people. Besides, I could use the company.”

Hank relaxed, finally letting himself believe things might turn out all right. For the first time in ages, he felt at home.

He agreed, though in his heart he thought, If only I could end up with someone as kind and powerful as Sylvia, life would be perfect. The thought made him smile, even if he’d never say it out loud.

He snuck a glance at her—she really was stunning, with a rare wildness. His heart thumped, and he wondered what it would be like to run wild and free beside her.

Lila, noticing how Hank was staring at Sylvia, felt a knot tighten in her chest. She tried to hide it, but the jealousy burned hot and sharp.

She and Hank might not be married by law, but they were as close as anyone could be. Seeing him look at Sylvia like that? It stung—bad.

She cleared her throat. “Hank, what are you staring at?” Her voice was sharper than she meant, and she shot Sylvia a look.

Hank snapped out of his daze, startled. He forced a sheepish grin. “Huh? Oh, nothing, just thinking, is all.”

He turned to Lila. “You okay, darlin’?” He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, hoping to reassure her.

Lila managed a small smile, soothed by the warmth of his touch. Maybe she was overthinking things. Maybe they’d be okay.

“I’m fine. But Sylvia’s been so generous—we shouldn’t overstay our welcome.” She glanced at Sylvia, trying to read her face.

Hank laughed. “You worry too much. Sylvia’s good people—she doesn’t mind. Let’s just stay here, all right?”

Seeing he’d made up his mind, Lila let it go, but not without a sigh. She tried to convince herself it was fine.