The Wolf Who Saved Me

Wren stumbled forward, clutching her head as a wave of dizziness hit her. The world was spinning and blurring the darkening sky and trees into a disorienting mess. Her breath was shaky, and her lungs burned as if she had been running for a marathon. She remembered being at the hospital, but for what? She couldn’t recall. What had happened to her? All seemed removed from her brain, even how she arrived here. Everything was like fragments of a broken mirror, scattered and sharp, painful to touch.

A familiar silhouette of a mansion loomed ahead. Wren knew who it belonged to and how it had been her home since she ran away from her pack. Her feet moved, leading her closer to the large wooden structure that somehow felt like home. Then, she heard the low murmur of voices from within, warm and welcoming. Yet an uneasy sensation clung to her skin, a gnawing anxiety about what happened during the last few hours or days.

Behind her, a man she had forgotten was following her. He was the one who drove her to the gate.

“Be careful, Ms. Wren,” he said as he held my hand as I was about to stumble while I climbed the stairs to the front door.

The heavy wooden door creaked open. Wren knew every corner of the mansion, even the scent. She had not forgotten about it.

‘Well, I guess whatever happened was not that bad. I still recognize something,’ Wren thought.

As she crossed the threshold, two pairs of eyes turned to her, one soft and warm, the other piercing and intense.

“Senorita Wren,” the older woman’s voice was gentle. Her long silver hair framed her face in soft waves, and her dark brown eyes showed her deep worry over Wren. Nana Lolita-Wren knew her name. Good! It was as if a tiny piece of her past had clicked into place, but the rest remained frustratingly out of reach.

“Nana…” Wren whispered, her voice hoarse, as if she hadn’t spoken in days. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down, trying to find the right words. But there was nothing-just confusion.

Nana Lolita walked towards her and wrapped Wren into a tight embrace. Her touch was soothing, grounding Wren in the present moment even as her mind struggled to grasp the past.

“Thank the Moon Goddess for bringing you back. I almost thought we would lose you,” Nana whispered into her hair.

Wren stiffened in Nana’s arms, her heart racing as her fragmented thoughts churned. Back? Lose me? What the hell happened? She wanted to ask, but the words clogged her throat. Adding the fear of the unknown almost turned her to mute. Wren pulled away, glancing over Nana’s shoulder at the man who stood a few paces behind her.

Reule’s presence was commanding, his deep gray eyes were locked onto Wren as though he was trying to read her thoughts. His chiseled jaw clenched as he studied her, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. He stirred something inside her that Wren couldn’t fully comprehend.

“Reule,” she murmured, his name slipped from her mouth without her thinking. Recognition flickered in her chest. Wren remembered the moment she met him until the day before she ended at the hospital.

Reule took a step forward, his expression softening as he reached out, his fingers brushing her arm in a tentative touch.

“Wren… Are you alright? You still looked pale. Shall I call the doctor?” His voice was deep and steady, but there was an edge of concern beneath it.

‘Why does he look at me like that? I remember that I didn’t belong to his pack. Why does he feel so deeply concerned,’ Wren thought, getting more confused, but she didn’t ask.

“Am.. I am fine. I’m just… trying to recall what happened,” she said instead.

Reule’s hand dropped to his side, and his eyes darkened with worry. Nana Lolita glanced between the two of them before gently guiding Wren to a nearby chair.

“You’ve been unconscious… flatlined several times,” Nana said softly, sitting down beside her. “We’ve all been so worried. Do you not remember anything at all?”

Wren stared at the floor, trying to piece together all of what she recalled, but it was like trying to hold water in her hands-impossible and futile. Flashes of indistinct images flickered in her mind-her parents, brother, the old lady, the first time she opened her eyes at the hospital. But there was no context, no sense of connection.

“I remember everyone here,” she said slowly, looking at Nana. “And… and how I end up here. But… anything that was related to why I was hospitalized was blurry. I couldn’t recall at all.”

Nana Lolita exchanged a glance with Reule, and the weight of their unspoken concern hung in the air. Reule crossed his arms over his broad chest, his jaw set in a hard line.

“We’ll figure it out later,” he said firmly, though there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice. “For now, you need to rest.”

Wren nodded, though the idea of sleep seemed impossible. How could she rest when her mind was in a storm of confusion? But the exhaustion was undeniable, dragging her eyelids down with every passing second.

“I’ll take you to your room,” Nana said, standing and offering her hand to Wren. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, allowing Nana to guide her up the stairs. Reule followed behind them silently, his presence like a protective shadow. Wren couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important she should remember about him. There was something that linked them together.

They reached the second floor, and Nana led Wren down a hallway to her room. She knew that she had been sleeping there since Reule saved her. The scent of lavender and fresh linens greeted her as she stepped inside, and the soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Nana said quietly, giving Wren’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “If you need anything, I’m just downstairs.”

Wren nodded, though she knew that she would not bother them at all. Nana and Reule stood for a minute, exchanging another silent glance before closing the door.

Once alone, Wren stood in the middle of the room and moved around hoping for another memory to spark. The bed, the dresser, the mirror on the wall-they all felt like pieces of her life, but none of them could ignite the memory of why she ended up at the hospital. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, the soft mattress sinking beneath her weight. Wren forced herself to remember until her head throbbed and she groaned in pain.

“This is so frustrating! Why can’t I remember?” she complained.

With a heavy sigh, Wren lay back on the bed. She closed her eyes, hoping she would sleep, but as soon as she did, the world around her shifted.

A flash of bright white light seared behind her eyelids, and suddenly she was no longer in her room. The sterile, clinical smell of disinfectant and something metallic stung her nose. The soft mattress beneath her turned hard. And when she opened her eyes, Wren found herself lying in a hospital bed.

The harsh fluorescent lights above her buzzed incessantly, casting a sickly yellow glow over the room. Machines beeped steadily beside her, their screens displaying numbers and lines she couldn’t make sense of. Panic surged through her as she tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy and uncooperative.

‘Why was she here? What happened again?’

Wren’s heart raced, pounding against her ribcage. There were no doctors, no nurses-just her, alone. The walls were stark white, the air too cold, and the silence too loud.

She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. She tried several times but couldn’t. Tears started welling in her eyes as Wren felt helpless. Her mind was already screaming to get up and move. But for some reason, she was paralyzed on that hospital bed. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the vision ended.

Wren gasped as she was yanked back to reality. She sat up abruptly, her heart still racing, her breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. She looked around, half-expecting to see the sterile hospital room, but she was back to her room again.

But the vision had felt so real, so vivid. Wren could still feel the chill of the hospital room, the weight of the sheets on her legs, the terror that had gripped her. What did it mean? Was it a memory? Or something else?

Wren buried her face in her hands, trying to calm herself. She didn’t know what was happening, didn’t understand why her mind was playing these cruel tricks. All she knew was that the unease she had been feeling earlier had grown stronger. And deep down, Wren knew it was trying to tell her what happened and why.