Echoes of the past

Leah’s POV

And then they heard it—a faint, desperate cry cutting through the heavy silence of the forest.

“A baby?” Evelyn stopped in her tracks, her head tilting as she tried to locate the source ot the sound.

My father, Mathew grabbed her arm, dragging her forward. “Keep moving, Evelyn. We don’t have time for this.”

“But Matt, that’s a baby crying!” she protested, struggling against his hold. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mix of fear and determination.

“Evelyn, no,” My father said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We can’t risk it. We don’t know what’s out there.”

“But what if—”

“No.” He interrupted  her, his voice sharp. “We’ve been lucky to survive this long. We’re not stopping now. That cry could be a trap for all we know.”

Evelyn’s gaze darted toward the dense trees, her heart aching at the sound. The cries grew louder, more desperate, as if the baby somehow sensed that help was coming.

“I can’t just leave it,” My mum whispered, her voice shaking.

“Yes, you can,” My father insisted, his grip on her arm tightening. “We have to think about ourselves right now. We need to get to safety.”

“But Matt, what kind of person would I be if I ignored this?” Evelyn’s voice broke, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” My father interrupted, his tone harsh. “Think, Evelyn. What if it’s a werewolf pup? What if its parents come looking for it? Or worse, what if it’s human bait set by rogues to draw people like us?”

Evelyn hesitated, her brow furrowing as the possibilities ran through her mind. But then the cries came again, cutting through her doubt like a blade.

“I don’t care,” she declared, her voice firm. She looked up at my father, her eyes blazing with determination. “I don’t care if it’s a trap or if I die trying. That’s a baby, Matt. A helpless, innocent baby. I can’t just leave it.”

My father’s expression darkened, frustration showing t in every line of his face. “Damn it, Evelyn! Do you even hear yourself? You’re willing to risk everything—our lives—for a cry in the woods?”

“Yes,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face.

My father stared at her, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words to stop her. But my mum was already moving, her steps purposeful as she followed the sound.

“Evelyn!” he called after her, his voice deeper in the forest.  “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Then so be it!” she shot back, not even glancing over her shoulder. “I’d rather die trying to save a life than live knowing I let an innocent baby die!”

My father let out a string of curses under his breath before running after her. “You’re insane, you know that?”

Evelyn ignored him, her focus entirely on the cries. The sound led her deeper into the forest, where the trees grew thicker and the shadows darker. Her heart racing in her chest, fear and frustration coursing through her veins.

She turned to him, her expression softening, but only a bit. “Math, you know as well as I do… I can’t have children. I’ll never hear the sound of my own baby crying. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have love to give.”

He looked away, his shoulders stiff with tension. “This isn’t the time for sentiment.”

“It’s not sentiment!” she shot back. “It’s humanity. And if I lose that, then what’s the point of surviving at all?

“Evelyn! For heaven’s sake, stop!” My father's voice echoed through the forest, sharp and filled with desperation.

But she didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back. Her steps were determined, her determination like a blazing fire as she pushed through the thick underbrush. Low-hanging branches snagged at her dress, but she moved on, unshaken.

“Evelyn, this is madness!” My father shouted again, his footsteps pounding the forest floor behind her. “Come back before it’s too late!”

“I won’t leave the baby,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with emotion. “I won’t leave it.”

I’ve replayed that moment in my mind so many times—the night I was found. The night my life began with a single cry in the woods and a choice made against all reason.

“Evelyn, if you don’t stop right now, I swear—”

“Then swear all you want, Matt,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “Shout, scream, do whatever makes you feel better. But I’m not stopping.”

My father groaned, his frustration rising.“You’re risking everything for something that might not even be human!”

“Then so be it!” Her voice cracked, thick with emotion. “If it’s human, it needs us. If it’s not… then I’ll figure that out later. But right now, it’s crying, Matt. It’s alone. And I can’t ignore that.”

I can only imagine the look on his face—torn between his anger and the unyielding love he had for her. He followed her, of course. He always did, even when she led him straight into danger.

When my mom finally reached the clearing, the crying stopped. The forest fell silent, save for the sound of her ragging breathing. She scanned the area, her heart pounding in her chest.

And then she saw me.

I was wrapped in a tattered blanket, lying among the roots of a massive tree. I was impossibly small, barely more than a collection of delicate limbs and worn fabric. My cheeks were streaked with dirt, my face red from crying.

My mom  froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside me. Her hands shook as she reached out, she paused for a brief moment before scooping me into her arms.

“Evelyn…”My father's voice softened, his tone resigned. He stepped into the clearing, his gaze darting between her and the baby—me. “You can’t be serious.”

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. “Matt, she’s so small… so helpless.” Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. She held me closer, as though trying to shield me from the world. “I can’t leave her here. I won’t.”

Matthew ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? What this means?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said firmly, meeting his gaze with tear-filled eyes. “It means we’re going to be her parents. It means she’s ours now.”

Matthew stared at her, silent for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine,” he said, his voice heavy with reluctance. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

My mom smiled through her tears, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “We’ll make it work. I promise.”

That memory has stayed with me, replaying in my mind like a film. They never told me whether I was human or wolf. Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t care. But I cared.

I hated wolves.

I hated everything they stood for—the arrogance, the cruelty. The war only solidified that hatred, even before I understand the full extent of the horrors committed in its wake. Wolves thought they were untouchable, superior. And why wouldn’t they? They had won the war.

The humans who survived were nothing more than spoils of victory. And nowhere was that more clear than in places like Crimson Community—a name that still makes my stomach turn.

Humans there were little more than slaves, forced to work the fields and serve the wolves’ every whim. The alphas and betas ruled over them with an iron fist, treating them like disposable object.

But it wasn’t just the hard labor. That would have been bad enough. No, some of the deltas took things further. They used the humans for their own twisted pleasures, turning them into sex slaves and stripping them of every shred of dignity.

It made my blood boil.

Even now, far from Crimson Community, I can feel the anger simmering beneath my skin. Wolves think they’re better than us—stronger, more deserving. But they’re wrong.

They’re monsters.

And I hate them for it.