The te afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the rolling expanse of the steppe. The monotony of orange grasses stretching endlessly toward the horizon was finally broken by the sight of something different—a cluster of rooftops peeking out from the gentle dip of the ndscape. Smoke spiraled zily from chimneys, a promise of warmth and life after days of barren travel.

  They soon passed a series of modest farms, each one dotted with the figures of hard-working souls boring under the fading light of afternoon. The nd stretched out in neat rows of crops, a patchwork of green and brown that seemed to go on forever. The workers, hunched over their tasks, looked up at the sound of the wagon's wheels, but when their gazes fell upon Vivienne, a flicker of panic passed across their faces.

  More than once, a farmer would drop their tools in arm, hastily retreating toward the safety of their homes with quick, panicked steps. The sight of the massive wolf, her fur rippling in the breeze, her eyes gleaming with something predatory, was enough to send them scurrying, as if the very earth might swallow them up if they moved too slowly.

  Vivienne couldn’t help but feel a sense of twisted satisfaction at the fear she inspired. The way they bolted, eyes wide and hearts racing, brought a low rumble of amusement from deep within her chest. It wasn’t cruelty—it was the simple, undeniable joy of being something rger than life itself, something capable of making the world around her bend to its will.

  Soon after, perked at the sight of the settlement ahead. She slowed her pace instinctively, her sharp eyes scanning the small settlement nestled between a pair of low, weathered hills. The buildings, mostly squat and made of stone and timber, looked sturdy, their roofs tiled with a reddish cy that caught the sunlight like smoldering embers. A worn dirt road meandered toward the town, marked by the faint ruts of wagons and the occasional scattering of animal tracks.

  "Finally," Rava murmured, breaking the quiet. She leaned forward slightly from her pce in the wagon, her keen eyes narrowing as she surveyed the town. "Should be a safe pce to resupply. Can you stay in that form while we are in town? I don’t want to have to deal with panic right now."

  Vivienne huffed in response but didn’t argue, her massive paws treading softer as they neared. The scent of the town reached her first—a mix of cooking fires, livestock, and the faint metallic tang of tools at work. It was comforting in its mundanity, a stark contrast to the aether-rich chaos of the wilderness.

  Ahead, the wooden gate loomed, its rough-hewn beams weathered by years of wind and rain, fnked by two guards who stood half-heartedly at attention. Their eyes were distant, bored by the monotony of their duty, until the unmistakable sound of heavy paws crunching against the dirt road reached them. As the wagon drew closer, they straightened marginally, their gazes snapping toward the massive wolf pulling it. Their stares lingered, wide-eyed and uncertain, fixated on Vivienne's imposing form.

  She suppressed the urge to grin, but the satisfaction still bubbled up inside her, a dark pleasure in the way their gazes lingered on her. It had become second nature to her—this sense of power, of dominance. Even here, in the quiet calm of a town seemingly untouched by the chaos of the open steppe, she was a spectacle. And she reveled in it. Her rge, muscur frame, the deep gleam of her fur, and the way the golden light danced across her scales as she moved—all of it made her a figure to be reckoned with.

  She could feel the guards’ wariness, the way they shifted uncomfortably as they tried to make sense of the creature before them. Few had likely ever seen a wolf of her size, let alone one pulling a wagon. Her massive paws sunk into the ground with a rhythmic thud as she moved, each step carrying an air of unconcerned power.

  “State your business,” one of the guards called out, his voice ft, with a slight edge of suspicion. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, though his eyes kept drifting back to Vivienne, unable to fully mask his wariness at the sight of the massive wolf standing at the gate.

  Rava, unfazed, hopped down from her seat in the carriage with a dull thud that reverberated in the quiet air. The motion was fluid, practiced. She nded with the grace of someone accustomed to physical movement, and as she straightened, it was impossible not to notice how much taller she was than the two guards. She stood at least a head above them, her posture regal and unyielding. Her armor gleamed in the fading light of the afternoon, a subtle but undeniable dispy of strength and purpose.

  Vivienne’s ears twitched as she watched, noting the way the guards instinctively took a step back. They might have been used to dealing with travelers, but they weren’t used to dealing with her—a towering figure of power, a woman who carried an aura of authority without ever needing to raise her voice.

  “We want to stay for the evening and buy some supplies before we head out into the wilderness for some hunting,” Rava said, her voice even but firm. The words were a partial lie—while they would certainly be hunting, it wasn’t just for game, and the night would likely involve more than simple rest—but it was a straightforward enough excuse.

  The guards exchanged uncertain gnces. It wasn’t uncommon for travelers to stop by, but something about Rava’s directness, her no-nonsense demeanor, and the intimidating sight of Vivienne gave them pause. The tension in the air was palpable, and one of the guards shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly trying to mask his unease.

  Rava didn’t miss the exchange, her eyes narrowing slightly. She could feel their hesitation, the subtle wariness of people who weren’t used to seeing travelers like them. It didn’t bother her, though. She’d dealt with this sort of scrutiny before. She just hoped it wouldn’t escate into anything more than a minor inconvenience.

  The guard who had spoken initially finally nodded, though his eyes darted back to Vivienne once more. “You’ll find the inn at the heart of the town. It’s not much, but it should suit your needs. And I’d keep your... companion... on a short leash.” The st part was said with a note of unease, though he tried to disguise it with a forced grin.

  Rava’s lips quirked slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Noted,” she replied simply, her voice smooth, betraying nothing of her thoughts. She turned, offering Vivienne a subtle nod, as if to say, We’re clear to go.

  Vivienne gave a low rumble from deep in her throat—one that could have been a growl or a chuckle, it was hard to tell—before she began to move forward. Her massive paws left deep impressions in the dust of the road as she followed Rava, the sensation of the wagon’s weight pulling behind her a comforting reminder of their bond, and the journey they shared. She didn’t look back at the guards. Let them stew in their uncertainty. She had more important things to focus on now, like where the best food and supplies were hidden in this quiet little town.

  They eventually found the town’s inn, but not without drawing plenty of stares as they made their way through the heart of the small settlement. The cobbled streets were lined with modest homes, each with its own little garden or patch of crops, but the eyes of every passerby seemed to fixate on the group as they moved through. The townsfolk paused in their daily routines, some halting in their tracks to openly gawk, others whispering to one another behind their hands.

  Vivienne couldn’t help but notice the wide-eyed looks, the hushed murmurs that rippled through the crowd. Her massive wolf form, the wagon creaking along behind her, was a spectacle few would ever forget. It had been some time since she’d been the center of such attention, and the feeling was oddly unsettling. Back in her past life, she’d loathed any public attention drawn towards her. The feeling of eyes on her, of every movement being scrutinized, had always been something she tried to avoid.

  But now, in this strange new world, the stares no longer bothered her. She had become accustomed to the attention over time. Instead of feeling anxious or uncomfortable, there was a strange sense of power that came with it. She had grown used to being something—someone—that couldn’t easily be ignored, even if right now was due to being a wolf that would make the rgest of horses look at least a little small in comparison. The way people flinched when they saw her, the nervous gnces thrown in her direction, it all reminded her of how different she was. And perhaps, somewhere deep within, she took a measure of pride in that.

  It was odd, though. There was a small part of her that still remembered the old unease, a flicker of discomfort buried beneath the yers of her current self. She shook the thought off, focusing instead on the task at hand: getting them settled in, finding supplies, and moving on with their journey.

  But it was hard to ignore the unease in the air, the way the townsfolk avoided her gaze as they hurried past. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, yet there was something satisfying about it too. She had power here. She was no longer the quiet, inconspicuous figure she had once been. She was Vivienne, something that commanded attention, and she loved it.

  Rava motioned for Vivienne to stop in front of a modest building with a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, etched with the simple outline of a bed. The inn looked well-kept but humble, a far cry from the grand establishments Vivienne remembered from her old life. "Stay," Rava commanded, her voice firm but not unkind.

  Vivienne tilted her head for effect before settling onto her haunches, her tail giving a slow, deliberate wag as though to say, Look, I’m being good. She watched as Rava stepped inside, disappearing behind the heavy wooden door. Her ears twitched, picking up the muffled hum of conversation within—Rava’s voice, steady and low, followed by another, gruffer tone that carried a weight of authority.

  A few minutes ter, the door swung open, and Rava emerged with a broad, barrel-chested lekine man trailing behind her. He had the look of someone perpetually annoyed, with a deep-set frown and brows that seemed permanently furrowed. But the moment his eyes nded on Vivienne, sitting there like an oversized, obedient dog, his expression softened into one of wary bemusement.

  "Well, I’ll be..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t think I’d see the likes of that pulling into town.”

  “She’s tame,” Rava assured him, her tone ft but edged with just enough sharpness to make it clear she had no patience for further questioning.

  The man narrowed his eyes, still studying Vivienne as though waiting for her to suddenly snap and reveal a more feral nature. Vivienne, for her part, cocked her head and let her tongue loll out in a mockery of canine innocence, her tail thumping softly against the ground. It was all she could do not to ugh at his unease.

  Finally, the man let out a gruff chuckle, though it didn’t quite mask his lingering apprehension. “Suppose you’ll be wanting the stables for her, then?”

  “She’ll stay with the wagon and supplies,” Rava replied smoothly, motioning to the wagon behind Vivienne. Her tone brooked no argument, and her posture—a picture of calm authority—left little room for negotiation. “It’s best if she’s not inside.”

  The man nodded slowly, scratching at the scruff of his chin. “I’ll say! Don’t reckon she’d fit through the door anyway. Big as an ox, that one.” His gaze flicked back to Vivienne, and his brows furrowed. “She isn’t, uhh... she won’t go for the horses, will she? Last thing I need is dealing with angry patrons come morning.”

  Rava’s lips twitched in what might have been a smirk. “No,” she said simply. “I keep her well fed. No need to worry about that.”

  Her words were casual, but the underlying steel in her tone made it clear she wasn’t offering reassurance so much as ending the conversation. Still, the man seemed unconvinced, his eyes darting to Vivienne again as if expecting her to sprout fangs and make a meal of the nearest stablehand.

  For her part, Vivienne offered a soft huff, a sound that could have been agreement—or amusement, depending on how it was interpreted. She lowered her head to rest on her massive paws, her dark eyes glinting with something akin to mischief as she watched the man fidget under her gaze. If she could make him squirm a little more, so much the better.

  Vivienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes but gave a low, friendly huff instead. The lekine man nodded, motioning them around to the side of the building where the stables stood.

  The space was simple but clean, with sturdy wooden stalls and a faint smell of hay and animals that made Vivienne’s nose twitch. She padded into a corner stall next to the wagon, circling once before lying down with an exaggerated flop. Her head rested on her paws, her dark eyes half-lidded but watchful as Rava began unloading the supplies they needed for the night.

  “You’ll be comfortable here,” Rava said, more to herself than Vivienne, as she secured their belongings.

  Vivienne let out a soft grunt of acknowledgment, feigning disinterest even as her sharp senses cataloged every scent, sound, and shadow around her. Sleep was a distant memory—something she no longer needed—but she pyed the part well enough, her massive frame sprawled out in the straw like a dozing sentinel. The truth was, her presence in the stables was as much about guarding their supplies as it was about avoiding curious townsfolk. She found soce in the quiet, away from prying eyes and whispered fears.

  At least she wasn’t completely alone. Renzia, the ever-silent mannequin, perched in the rafters above her. A silhouette barely discernible in the dim light, she was as motionless as the beams she rested upon, her head tilted slightly as if listening to the world beyond the stable walls. Renzia’s stillness wasn’t just eerie—it was absolute. No rise or fall of breath, no shift of weight. Just a carved figure wrapped in quiet vigince.

  Vivienne’s gaze flicked upward briefly, noting the faint glint of moonlight catching the metal stitch down the mannequin’s featureless face. There was something oddly comforting about Renzia’s presence, even if her companion wasn’t one for conversation. The mannequin’s unblinking watch felt like an extension of her own, ensuring nothing would disturb their wagon or their rest without both of them knowing.

  With a low, rumbling sigh, Vivienne closed her eyes—not to sleep, but to listen better, to let the hum of the night settle over her like a familiar bnket. Outside, the town quieted further, the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional murmur of livestock the only sounds breaking the stillness. Above her, Renzia didn’t move, an unwavering sentinel who needed no rest. Together, they were a picture of opposites: one a hulking beast, feigning slumber, the other a lifeless figure, ever-watchful in the darkness.

  As the evening deepened into night, the stable quieted. The occasional creak of wood or shuffle of hooves punctuated the stillness, but no one dared venture too close to her stall. Vivienne liked it that way. She stretched her massive frame, her tail flicking zily as she settled in to keep watch. Let the others have their warm beds and quiet rooms; she was content here, alone with the dark and her thoughts.

  In the small hours of the evening, when the moons hung high and bathed the world in pale, silvery light, Vivienne's ears twitched. Faint voices carried on the cool night breeze, interspersed with the telltale rustle of movement and the occasional scuffle of boots against wood. It didn’t take long for her sharp hearing to discern the hushed tones of children—excited, nervous, and utterly unskilled in the art of stealth.

  There was a soft grunt, a muffled giggle, and then a scraping sound as one of them made an ill-fated attempt to climb the stable fence. Vivienne sighed internally but remained still, her eyes half-lidded, as if she hadn’t noticed. She knew better than to startle them—they would scatter like spooked birds if she made any sudden movements.

  Another scrape, followed by a thud and a whispered, “Shh! Be quiet! You’ll wake her!”“I told you she’s not asleep,” another voice hissed back. “She’s guarding the wagon!”“Do you think she’ll let us pet her?” a third voice chimed in, softer and more hesitant.

  Vivienne fought the urge to roll her eyes. She kept her head resting on her paws, her massive frame unmoving, save for the faint twitch of her tail. Let them come closer, she thought, her instincts sharp but her heart oddly soft when it came to children.

  Finally, after several minutes of fumbling, the smallest of the group—a boy with a mop of unruly hair—managed to cmber over the fence. He nded with a soft grunt and immediately froze, staring wide-eyed at the hulking wolf in the moonlight. Behind him, two more children peered over the edge of the fence, their faces a mix of awe and terror.

  “See? She’s awake!” the boy whispered, but his voice carried enough excitement to betray his fear.“She’s huge,” one of the others murmured, their head just barely poking above the wood.

  Vivienne let out a slow, deliberate sigh, the sound deep and rumbling. It wasn’t threatening, though—it was the kind of exasperated noise a parent might make when indulging a child’s antics. The boy flinched but didn’t run, his courage bolstered when she didn’t immediately move to chase him off.

  The boy froze under Vivienne’s unblinking stare, his small chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. His courage faltered for a heartbeat, and he gnced back toward the fence, where his friends whispered urgently, their voices carrying just enough to betray their anxiety.

  Vivienne’s ears twitched at the sound of their hurried discussion:

  “Do you think she’s going to eat him?”“She hasn’t moved! Maybe she’s deciding!”“Calen, get back here!”

  But the boy—Calen—didn’t move. His fear, though palpable, seemed outweighed by a stubborn determination. His small fingers curled into fists at his sides, and he squared his shoulders, his resolve hardening under her gaze.

  He took a step closer.

  Vivienne didn’t flinch or growl, though her eyes followed him with an intensity that made his movements painfully slow. Another step, then another, until he was close enough to reach out and touch her. His trembling hand hovered in the air, inches from her thick fur.

  Behind him, one of the other children hissed, “Don’t do it!”

  Calen hesitated, gncing back at his companions. Then, steeling himself, he turned to Vivienne again, his hand lowering to his side. His lips pressed into a tight line, as though silently weighing his options.

  Vivienne tilted her head slightly, her ears flicking in a way that seemed to break the tension. Something about the gesture—the sheer ck of aggression—seemed to settle Calen’s nerves. He knelt slowly, his knees crunching softly against the straw-littered stable floor.

  A moment passed in silence, broken only by the faint creak of the fence as the other children shifted, trying to get a better look.

  Finally, Calen reached out again, his fingers trembling but resolute. He let them brush against the fur of Vivienne’s foreleg, the texture coarse yet warm. His expression shifted instantly, awe repcing fear, and he let out a shaky ugh.

  “She’s... soft,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

  The other children exchanged wide-eyed gnces, their fear now mingled with envy. Slowly, they began to cmber over the fence, their courage bolstered by Calen’s success.

  Vivienne remained still, her eyes half-lidded, as the rest of the group approached. They moved cautiously, their steps hesitant but filled with growing confidence. One by one, they reached out, their small hands brushing over her fur with tentative wonder.

  “She’s so big,” one of the girls murmured, her voice trembling with excitement. “Bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen!”

  “She’s not a dog,” Calen corrected, his hand still resting on Vivienne’s leg. “She’s a wolf!”

  Vivienne’s tail gave a single, slow wag, the faint thump against the ground startling the children for a moment before they dissolved into giggles.

  “She likes it!” another boy said, his grin wide.

  The children grew bolder, their hands exploring the thick fur of her neck and shoulders. One of the younger girls leaned against Vivienne’s side, her head resting against the wolf’s massive frame as if seeking warmth.

  Vivienne remained still, her patience unshakable as the children gathered around her, their wide eyes filled with curiosity. She had always relished the effect her presence had on adults—the way fear and awe twisted their faces—but children were different. Their innocence reminded her too much of her own children, stirring emotions she kept buried deep.

  “How do you know it’s a girl? Maybe it’s a boy!” one of the boys piped up, his tone ced with pyful skepticism.

  The question struck like a sudden, sharp chord. Vivienne’s chest tightened, an instinctive reaction rising before she could smother it. Her lips curled back, exposing gleaming fangs in a low, guttural growl. The sound was soft but unmistakable, primal and unbidden.

  The children froze. Their wide-eyed wonder gave way to gasps of arm, and a few instinctively flinched away.

  “I don’t think she liked that,” another child whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at Vivienne’s bared teeth. “She’s definitely a girl.”

  Vivienne immediately regretted the slip. Forcing herself to take a slow, steadying breath, she exhaled in a huff that stirred the straw beneath her. It was a deliberate sound—measured, almost apologetic. She rexed her features, her fangs retreating behind closed lips, and lowered her head slightly, signaling that the moment of tension had passed.

  “See?” one of the older girls whispered, her hand still resting cautiously on Vivienne’s fur. “She’s not mad. Just... maybe we said something wrong.”

  “She’s a girl,” the first boy said with more certainty now, though he didn’t quite meet Vivienne’s eyes. “Probably didn’t like me guessing otherwise.”

  The younger girl, the one who had been leaning against Vivienne, gave her a tentative pat, as if trying to soothe her. “It’s okay,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “We’re sorry.”

  Vivienne’s ears twitched at the words. She couldn’t speak without scaring them further, so she settled for the smallest of gestures: her tail gave a slow, deliberate wag, the faint thud against the ground echoing in the quiet stable.

  The children brightened instantly.

  “She likes us again!” the younger girl excimed, her fear repced by delight.

  “She’s just moody,” another boy teased, though he kept a respectful distance this time. “My sister’s like that too.”

  The comparison almost drew a snort from Vivienne, though she suppressed it. She tilted her head slightly, allowing the smallest of smiles to show in her gleaming eyes—just enough to reassure them.

  The children rexed completely now, their curiosity once again overtaking their caution. One of the older boys reached out tentatively, brushing a hand against her fnk. “Her fur’s so thick,” he murmured. “Bet she doesn’t even feel the cold.”

  “Do you think she has puppies?” another child wondered aloud.

  “She’d need a mate for that,” came a smug reply.

  Vivienne’s ear flicked, and she shifted slightly, the weight of their chatter both amusing and bittersweet. The children’s innocent questions tugged at old memories, ones she couldn’t quite suppress no matter how deeply she buried them.

  “She’s definitely too smart for that,” the first boy said with a grin. “Bet she doesn’t need anyone else. She’s probably like... a queen wolf or something.”

  The children giggled at the idea, and one of the girls nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! A queen! She’s too important for puppies.”

  Vivienne gave a soft, deliberate snort that sent a puff of warm air into the crisp night. The children took it as agreement, their ughter bubbling up again as they continued to marvel at her.

  Though she couldn’t quite join in their innocence, Vivienne found herself strangely comforted by their presence. For a few fleeting moments, the weight of her past and the darkness of her nature seemed distant, overshadowed by the simple, untainted joy of the children gathered around her.

  When Vivienne decided the children had had their fill of petting her fur and weaving grand tales of her supposed exploits, she gave the boy perched on her back a gentle nudge with her shoulder. He slid down her side with a delighted ugh, nding on the straw-covered ground in a heap of giggles. She rose to her full height, her massive frame casting a long shadow across the group of children.

  The chatter stopped instantly. They stared up at her, wide-eyed and gaping, as her looming form blotted out the soft moonlight filtering into the stables. For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of hay beneath her enormous paws as she shifted her weight.

  Then, with deliberate slowness, Vivienne sat back on her haunches, her gleaming bck eyes scanning each face. "Time to go, children," she said, her deep, resonant voice breaking the silence. It was calm, measured—but unmistakably not human. "Wouldn’t want to worry your parents, would you?"

  The reaction was immediate. A collective gasp escaped the group, and they stumbled back a step, clutching at each other in awe and disbelief.

  “She talks?!” one of the boys excimed, his voice cracking with astonishment.

  Another girl stared, her hands covering her mouth. "I told you she was magical!"

  Vivienne huffed, the sound somewhere between a sigh and an amused growl. The children, now buzzing with excitement and whispers, didn’t seem frightened—just amazed, as though a fairy tale had come to life before their eyes.

  “Go on now,” she urged, dipping her head slightly. “The night’s not getting any shorter.”

  The children scrambled to obey, though their reluctance was evident in every lingering gnce cast back toward her. At the door, one of the braver boys hesitated, looking over his shoulder. “Will you still be here tomorrow?”

  Vivienne’s lips curled faintly, not quite a smile but close enough. "Perhaps," she rumbled, "if you behave and don’t tell anyone."

  The boy nodded solemnly, as though entrusted with a great secret, and dashed out with the others.

  When the stables fell silent again, Vivienne settled back down onto the straw, her ears twitching at the night’s faint sounds. A low chuckle rumbled in her chest as she considered the children’s reactions. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her with something other than fear or reverence. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to savor it, her gaze drifting to the stable doors as their voices faded into the night.

  SupernovaSymphony