Chapter Text
At this point, Wednesday wasn’t sure how deep into the woods she, Uncle Fester, and Thing had ventured.
Canada was a place of vast wilderness — freezing by night, with crisp air and pale morning sunlight.
But no — she wasn’t lost.
She had the tracks.
Huge tracks.
Beast tracks. Not animal.
She and Fester had settled into a routine. Each day, he would set up camp at a specific, easily reachable spot and wait. Wednesday, with Thing perched silently on her shoulder, would comb the surrounding area for any sign of werewolf activity. Once the region had been swept, they would move further into the wild.
And so on. And so forth.
Wednesday wouldn’t stop.
She owed Enid. Everything. Her life.
And she wanted her back.
Needed her, more accurately — though the raven would never admit to such pathetic attachment.
This was just another task. Another case to be solved.
Find Enid. Bring her home. That was all.
They had gone deep into the woods — too deep.
Dusk crept in, and Wednesday decided they should start heading back. They were in danger of losing their orientation.
That’s when she saw it.
Prints. Large. Fresh.
And broken branches, scattered in unnatural patterns.
This could be it.
She wasn’t about to turn back now.
Thing tapped her shoulder excitedly.
"Yes, Thing. I believe we’re onto something, too. We’d better keep moving — lose the trail now, and we may not find it again."
And so they ventured deeper.
Each step carried them further from the familiar.
More tracks.
More signs of a werewolf.
'I’ve found you, Enid', Wednesday thought, her steps gaining purpose and precision.
A sudden rustle.
Movement behind the trees.
Wednesday froze.
There was still enough light to see.
A figure.
Her heart jumped in her chest.
"Enid!" she called out.
That was the last thing she managed to shout.
A low growl rang out, and something slammed into her.
She hit the ground hard.
Thing was flung from her shoulder.
But Wednesday recovered quickly, spinning to her feet. A large knife, previously strapped to her thigh, now gleamed in her grip.
She stared ahead, unfazed by whatever horror awaited her. Always ready.
And then... she saw him.
A guy.
Ripped jeans. Muddy boots. An open flannel shirt hanging loose over a scarred chest.
His eyes were yellow. Feral.
Fangs bared. Claws out. Tousled hair. A rough stubble framed his chin and sideburns.
He growled at her.
He couldn’t have been older than 18.
Wednesday took him in.
She kept her knife trained on him. Her posture rigid. Coiled like a trap.
“Yo, Kyle! What d’you find, man? Is it the boar?”
She turned at the voice.
Another boy — maybe younger — with similar feral features. He was perched in a tree above them, barely visible through the thick foliage.
“No, dude,” Kyle growled, eyes still fixed on Wednesday. “Not a boar. Something else. Something... new.”
“What are you tal—holy shit. A girl?”
The second boy dropped from the tree effortlessly, landing in front of her.
“What the fuck are you doing out here? Was there, like, a goth convention nearby and you got lost?”
Wednesday assessed them both.
Werewolves — no doubt.
But they weren’t like the Furs back at Nevermore.
They were wilder. Rougher.
Unhinged.
“I’m looking for someone,” Wednesday said calmly. “So the best thing you can do right now is turn around and leave me alone. I’d prefer not to skin you alive, but I will if I must.”
They exchanged a look.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the second one barked. “You come into our territory and expect us to back down?”
He noticed Thing trembling behind Wednesday’s boot.
“Oohohohoh!” He laughed — high-pitched, hyena-like. “Hey, Aidan, look — a chew toy! Let’s bring it back to camp. Whoever wins in a fight gets to rip it apart!”
Thing shivered and crawled into Wednesday’s hoodie pocket.
“Niiice idea, brother,” Kyle sneered. “Maybe we can use it as bait, too. That puma that keeps stealing our kills? This’ll lure it right in.”
That was enough.
Wednesday tightened her grip on the knife.
Head tilted. Eyes narrowed.
Very well, then.
If this was how they wanted it…
The two werewolves growled — just about to pounce —
When—
“What the hell are you doofuses doing out here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere—”
Another voice.
Wednesday turned toward it.
A girl. Around her age. Short black hair. Piercing green eyes.
A sharp, angular face, all edges and tension.
She wore a tank top, jean shorts, and boots caked in mud.
She stared at Wednesday.
“What do we have here, exactly?”
“Yeah, that’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Kyle said. “She just showed up. Has like, a mutilated hand in her pocket. And she’s talking some shit about looking for someone.”
The girl hummed thoughtfully.
“Come on, Amelia, let’s teach her a lesson. What if she tries to follow us back to the nest?”
Amelia stepped forward. Measured. Calculated.
“Who could you possibly be looking for this deep in the forest?” she asked.
Wednesday saw an opening. She took it.
“A girl. My age. Blonde hair, blue eyes. She’s a werewolf too — an Alpha. She transformed during the full moon and couldn’t shift back. So she ran.”
A pause.
“I promised her I’d find her. I always keep my promises.”
The three werewolves stared at her like she’d grown a second head.
“No way,” Kyle whispered.
“She’s talking about—”
“Yes. She is,” Amelia cut him off.
Silence.
Amelia thought for a moment. Then:
“We should bring her to her.”
“What? Why?” Aidan argued. “She could be a psycho. What if she tries something?”
“If she tries anything,” Amelia said coldly, staring Wednesday down, “we’ll tear her to pieces before she gets the chance.”
“But seriously — do you think Enid even cares? We could just chase her off. Winner gets tonight’s rabbit.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Yes. Great idea. Three Omegas deciding what to do about a human who claims to be looking for our Alpha. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Except, I don’t know — Enid biting your asses off and letting you starve for two days.”
Enid.
She said it.
Her Enid.
She found her.
After months of searching —
She had kept her promise.
The two boys looked at each other, silently debating.
“Yeah, okay, fine. But for the record? She didn’t bite our asses last time we disobeyed her — she just… scratched them, y’know.”
Amelia threw them a sarcastic smirk. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetie.”
Then she turned to Wednesday, her eyes sharp again.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll take you to Enid — and she gets to decide your fate. You don’t talk. You don’t move unless we say so. Try anything stupid, and I’ll make sure that pretty face of yours gets a souvenir you won’t forget. Got it?”
Wednesday nodded once.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.
Her focus was entirely on one thing: Enid.
The threats didn’t faze her.
She had a knife. She had resolve. That was enough.
“Hey, where is Enid, anyway?” Kyle asked.
“She’s still in that meeting with James,” Amelia answered. “They’re trying to map out a new hunting route — away from prying eyes. It’s... proving difficult.”
“Pffft. James,” Aidan scoffed. “The guy’s a Beta and acts like he’s fucking Beowulf or something. Mr. Know-It-All.”
Amelia sighed — deeply, like this was the hundredth time they'd had this conversation.
“For the last time, Aidan: Beowulf was the hero of an ancient English poem. Not an actual wolf.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Yadda yadda. You and your dusty books.” He rolled his eyes. “My point still stands. Enid trusts the guy too much. We should get a say in all this.”
“Great,” Amelia replied flatly. “Why don’t you tell her yourself when we get back?”
That shut him up immediately.
Kyle burst out laughing beside him, clearly enjoying Aidan’s defeat.
*
They reached the camp soon enough.
Wednesday took in the surroundings with a quiet, analytical gaze.
It was smaller than she expected. Five tents, nothing more — crudely made, but stable. Each one clearly belonged to someone, spaced just far enough apart to suggest territorial lines, yet close enough to share warmth and watch each other’s backs.
A fire burned low in the center. Torches stood planted like sentinels surrounding the small area.
Everything had its place.
A hollowed-out log served as a pantry, lined with neatly arranged tins of canned beans, stolen coffee, and mismatched mugs. Cooking tools hung above the fire from crooked branches, swaying gently in the wind. Books — surprisingly many of them — were stacked under a tree, shielded by a piece of tarp. Some were fiction. Others, she noted, were survival manuals and guides to animal tracking.
In one corner, a few scratched MP3 players sat on a folded jacket, still and silent. She wondered if they still worked. She wondered who had chosen which song to keep playing over and over again.
It was crude.
But there was order here.
Intention.
Wednesday was silently impressed.
"Okay, so—I’ll go talk to her and then—"
From the largest tent, a figure emerged.
A man. Tall, broad-shouldered. Older—late thirties, perhaps—with white streaks scattered through his hair and beard.
An eyepatch covered his left eye, a jagged scar cutting across his face like a warning. He walked with a limp, his right leg clearly damaged beyond full recovery.
He moved toward them immediately, tense and alert.
"What is this? What did you do this time?" he demanded, eyes narrowing at the sight of Wednesday.
"Easy, James. They're not to blame this time," Amelia answered calmly, holding his gaze without flinching.
“They found her in the woods while hunting. She’s looking for Enid. Says she knows her.”
James turned to Wednesday, scanning her.
"That's impossible," he muttered. "No one's ever reached us. No hikers, no explorers. We make sure of it—we push them back."
“There’s a first time for everything,” Wednesday said, speaking for the first time since they’d arrived. Her voice was even, cold.
"Hey!" Amelia snapped. "I told you—no talking."
Wednesday ignored her.
"I came for Enid. I tracked her all the way from the U.S. to here, and I’m not leaving without her. I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect her. To keep her safe.
If any harm comes to her… you should prepare yourselves. I’m not as soft as Enid. I don’t give second chances.”
A heavy silence followed.
James and Amelia studied her, unreadable.
The two boys, however, burst out laughing.
“Wooohohoho! Did you hear that, James?” Aidan howled. “She’s gonna protect her! Enid! The fucking beast herself!”
Kyle was grinning wide. “The little emo chick thinks she’s 'The Crow' or something. C’mon, James, tell her the bear story! That shit was epic. Enid was alone, this massive bear showed up, and she just—”
"Enough!" James barked.
Silence snapped back into place.
He stepped toward Wednesday, lowering his voice.
"I don’t know what you think you’re walking into, but what you’ll find here is… not what you’re expecting. You’d better brace yourself."
But Wednesday had already stopped listening.
Words no longer mattered.
Because there she was.
She stepped out from the tent.
Enid.
She looked… stronger. Heavier somehow—not in size, but in presence.
Her hair, once bright and colorful, had lost its pink streaks. Still blonde, but darker now, rougher around the edges, they were hanging on her shoulders.
She wore jeans and boots, and over her torso, a thick black pelt was draped like a cloak — heavy, sleeveless, the way northern warriors wore them in old stories.
It hung loose around her frame, more like a mantle of authority than clothing, the fur shifting slightly with each step she took.
On the side of her neck, a long, vicious scar.
Claw marks.
Deep. Permanent.
Wednesday didn’t dare speak.
Her heart felt like it might break through her ribcage.
“Wednesday.”
Enid’s voice.
Her name, spoken quietly — with a hesitation that didn’t match her strength.
Her eyes met Wednesday’s, and for a brief second, something flickered there.
Softness. Recognition. Even longing.
But just as quickly, it was buried — tucked away behind a practiced calm, like she didn’t want to be seen.
“Enid,” Wednesday breathed. “I kept my promise. I found you.”
Enid stood still, her body tense, as if unsure whether to step closer or build another wall. Her gaze swept over Wednesday’s face, slowly — searching, but guarded.
Then:
“Leave us. All of you.”
Her voice was steady, commanding — the kind no one dared question.
“We’re going to talk in my tent. No one is to disturb us. For any reason. Understood?”
They all nodded without a word.
Enid pulled open the flap.
“Come,” she said.
There was steel in her voice. But something underneath it… cracked.
Wednesday stepped inside without hesitation.
She had found her.
She had.
And no matter what had changed —
She would bring her back.