Chapter 4: The Cabin’s Secret Rivalry

So the three of them settled into life in the log cabin. Days fell into a gentle rhythm—chores, long walks, shared meals by the fire. The place felt more like home with every sunrise.

Before long, Hank really did get used to life in Sylvia’s little paradise. He woke early, chopping wood or fetching water, and found real satisfaction in the work. The ache of his old life faded, replaced by a quiet joy.

Every morning, Sylvia would take him and Lila for walks in the hills, teaching them about the woods. They learned the names of birds, the secret paths, the way the wind sounded before a storm. It was a good life, honest and real.

Sometimes, Sylvia taught them simple tricks—how to move quiet as a fox, how to spot herbs for healing, and which ones to avoid. Hank soaked it up, eager for every scrap of knowledge.

Hank felt like he’d finally found a place where he belonged. He caught himself whistling as he worked, lighter than he’d been in years.

But as time went on, Lila grew uneasy. She watched Hank and Sylvia with wary eyes, noticing every shared laugh, every lingering glance. It ate at her, making her doubt everything.

She noticed that late at night, Hank would often sneak off to Sylvia’s room and stay there for hours. She’d wake to find his side of the bed cold, the faint sound of laughter drifting down the hall. Each time, her heart clenched tighter.

She tried to tell herself it was nothing, but the doubt gnawed at her. Hank had always been loyal, but this? It felt different.

She decided she needed to set Hank straight before he got completely bewitched by this werewolf woman. No magic or music was going to steal her man without a fight.

One evening, Lila made a pot of warm chicken noodle soup, hoping the familiar smell and taste would bring Hank back to her. The kitchen filled with steam and memories.

She waited and waited, but he didn’t show. The soup cooled, the candle burned low, and still no Hank. Her patience snapped.

Annoyed, she marched to Sylvia’s room, her footsteps sharp against the floorboards. She was done waiting.

At the door, she heard Hank and Sylvia laughing inside, music playing softly. Her face burned, her fists clenched.

She pushed the door open, only to find Hank and Sylvia sitting together—deep in a game of chess, a record spinning in the background.

Lila froze, heart pounding. This was not what she’d expected. For a moment, her anger faltered, replaced by confusion and embarrassment.

Hank looked up, startled, then forced an awkward smile. “Hey, Lila, what brings you here?” He set his chess piece down, waiting for her reaction, his eyes darting between her and Sylvia.

Lila shot back, “If I didn’t come, you’d probably move in here for good!” Her cheeks flushed, her jealousy impossible to hide.

Sylvia quickly stood up to smooth things over. “Lila, don’t get the wrong idea. We’re just playing chess and talking.” She gestured to the board, trying to make peace. “You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

Lila glared at Sylvia. “Chess and talking? Funny, I’ve never seen you play chess or chat with me.” Her voice trembled, hurt and anger mixing. She stared Sylvia down, daring her to lie.

Sylvia was at a loss for words. Hank hurriedly pulled Lila over, coaxing, “Lila, you’ve got it wrong. Sylvia and I are just friends. That’s all.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes pleading.

Lila let him hold her hand, but her voice was sharp. “Just friends? There should be boundaries! You’re always in her room—what am I supposed to think?”

Seeing her anger subside, Hank breathed a sigh of relief. “All right, all right, I’ll be more careful from now on. Come on, let’s go eat.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Soup smells good—I’m starved.”

He took Lila’s hand and led her back to their room. As they walked away, he whispered an apology, promising to make it up to her.

Sylvia watched them leave, arms folded, her face unreadable. Inside, her heart twisted with longing and regret.

She knew she was something other than human, but she still had feelings—she did like Hank, more than she wanted to admit. The jealousy in Lila’s eyes cut deep.

But she also knew there was a gap between mortals and the supernatural that couldn’t be crossed. No matter how close she got, she’d always be on the outside looking in.

Snow started to fall, blanketing the world in white. The days shortened, and the three of them settled into a winter rhythm—quiet, close, and sometimes tense.

By midwinter, icicles hung from the eaves, the world hushed and slow. The cabin became a warm haven, filled with the smell of baking bread and the crackle of the fire.

With Sylvia’s help, Hank and Lila learned to hunt in the snow, track deer, and keep the cabin warm. The work was hard, but the sense of accomplishment was real. The world outside might be cold, but inside, they made it work.

But every day, Lila’s resentment toward Sylvia grew. She watched every smile, every shared secret, feeling like an outsider in her own life.

To her, Sylvia was like a ticking time bomb—she could blow up her peaceful life at any moment, and Lila couldn’t shake the fear.