The Demon's Little Wolf

The chill of the night wrapped around Analise like a familiar cloak. She sat on the park bench, the flickering streetlamp casting long, dancing shadows that mirrored the turmoil in her mind. The air smelled of damp earth and distant city lights, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of her thoughts.

For weeks, the same nightmare had haunted her, a recurring echo of a past she couldn't escape. It was the reason she was out here, seeking solace in the quiet solitude, away from the sterile apartment and the indifferent gaze of her nanny, Christine.

She closed her eyes, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, trying to push away the images that plagued her. At 13, she felt adrift, a princess without a kingdom, a child without a family's embrace. Her only hope was the shift, the promise of a wolf companion who wouldn't abandon her.

A sudden rustle in the bushes nearby made her eyes snap open. The streetlamp above her flickered erratically, and a cold gust of wind swept through, raising goosebumps on her arms. A prickle of dread, sharp and immediate, settled in her stomach. She wasn't alone.