Page 76 of A Wolfe in the Woods

I stepped beside him. “Well, uh, that’s a problem.”

He let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “They shouldn’t be gone. This patch has always held through until winter.”

I waited, letting him puzzle through it. When his brows stayed furrowed, I nudged his elbow lightly. “We could keep looking. The slope runs all along the ridge, right? Maybe there’s another patch nearby?”

He looked at me for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Might as well since we’re already this far out. We can go a little farther up.”

So, we followed the ridge.

The terrain changed quickly, brambles clawing at our boots and loose stones underfoot. The trail wasn’t marked anymore, just a worn thread through the undergrowth that Jonathan seemed to recognize more by instinct than sight. I found it was easy to imagine him in these woods as a boy.

The air grew cooler as we climbed, enough to make me a shiver race down my spine. The shift felt sudden—too sudden and much too cold for the time of year.

Goose bumps rose on my arms. I glanced at Jonathan.

He’d gone quiet again. Oddly…alert. His shoulders were stiffer, his pace slower, gaze flicking toward the denser trees off to our left like he looking for something unexpected.

I tilted my head. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then he reluctantly replied, “We’re coming close to a place we don’t want to cross into. If we hit a certain point, we’ll turn back.”

There was something in his tone, tight and cautious. It sounded like he was weighing whether to keep going at all.

I didn’t press him. Not yet.

But I couldn’t ignore the chill or the way the gentle wind had suddenly gone still.

The path narrowed as we edged further along the ridge. Roots clawed out of the ground like ribs, and the trees began to lean strangely, all bent away from the same direction as though they’d been pressed back by some invisible weight.

Then Jonathan abruptly stopped.

I almost ran into him, steadying myself with a hand against his arm. But I gripped him tight, the heat and taut strength I felt making me feel safe when this entire place felt…off. “What is it?”

His gaze scanned the tree line ahead of us, where the shadows looked to be thicker, heavier. “We’re nearing the Whispering Woods,” he said quietly. “We shouldn’t linger.”

The name alone raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “The Whispering Woods?”

He gave a slight nod, though his eyes never left the trees. “Older than the mine, older than any maps. This place is best left undisturbed.”

There was a note in his voice I hadn’t heard before. It was unease. He stood, still listening to more than the wind, like the forest itself was saying something I couldn’t hear. Sometimes I forgot he was a Lycan. But in times like these, I was all too aware that he wasother.

Then it got abnormally silent, like someone had turned the earth’s volume off. The sudden absence of birds and insects left me disoriented. A faint blue blur flickered in my periphery, but when I turned, it was gone.

I shivered. “Should we turn back?”

Before he could answer, a flicker of color caught my eye down the slope. A cluster of dark, glossy berries clinging to a bush that looked full and bountiful, even though it wasn’t the right time of the season.

“There,” I said quickly, pointing. “Look!”

Jonathan followed my gaze, and I caught the hesitation in his posture. He didn’t move right away, like he was toeing some invisible line. Finally, he exhaled. “We can get them…if we’re quick.”

We scrambled down the slope, careful not to lose footing on the moss-slickened rock. The berry bush was larger than I’d expected—wild-looking with thick vines.

“They’re huge,” I said, crouching beside the thicket.

Jonathan gave a low hum behind me, inspecting the berries with a narrowed eye. “Unusually big.”

I glanced back at him. “Is that a bad thing?”