Red Lavender

As usual, I would take the old baseball and throw it just before the crop line. Rocky, our golden retriever, would gallop out, grab it, and do a little trot back. The ball would be covered in his spit. He’d lick my face as I scratched his favorite spot.

“Good boy.”

I threw it again. As he went after it, I noticed it was getting too dark. The sun was almost set, and I needed to finish my homework, but just a few more throws. Rocky was looking at the ball but hadn’t picked it up yet. His head turned slightly, ears twitching. Then he looked back at me.

“You should go inside,” he said.

I blinked. My body locked up, my fingers going numb. The world seemed to slow around me. The wind rustled through the corn, but my ears were ringing. Had I misheard? No—his mouth had moved. “What?” My voice came out hoarse. My brain scrambled for a logical explanation—was I hallucinating? Had I been out in the sun too long? Maybe I was dreaming. Yeah, that had to be it. Rocky’s eyes, once warm and playful, were now sharp. Focused. I took a shaky step down from the porch. “Did you just talk?”

“Don’t—” Rocky’s voice was firm. “Get inside. Now!”

The birds took off from the crops in a flurry of movement, their frantic wingbeats slicing through the thick air. The sudden silence that followed made my skin prickle. Something was wrong. I ran inside, slamming the door behind me. My hands fumbled with the lock before I rushed to the kitchen window. Rocky was slowly backing toward the steps, his fur bristling. Then I saw them. Wolves. They emerged from the darkness like living shadows, their black fur jagged and patchy, their eyes glowing with hunger. Most of them were bigger than Rocky. They surrounded him, closing in.

“The boy—give us the boy,” one of them growled, its voice deep and guttural.

“No,” Rocky said, his stance lowering into a defensive position. “Leave now, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Hurt us?” A wolf let out a raspy chuckle, baring yellow teeth. “We outnumber you.”

One of them lifted its head, nostrils flaring. Its gaze snapped to the window.

“There! He’s inside!”

Rocky howled—a piercing, war-like cry. The wolves lunged. I spun away from the window, my heart pounding in my ears. They were coming. I sprinted down the hall, skidding to a stop at the front door. I checked the lock. Still in place.

Then—BAM!

The door buckled under the force of something slamming against it. The entire frame rattled. My breath hitched. It wasn’t just one wolf—there were several. I threw my weight against the grandfather clock, trying to push it in front of the door. The heavy wood groaned, resisting me. My arms shook as I shoved harder. I was just past the hinges when—

CRACK.

The lock snapped. The door inched open. A black nose pushed through the gap, sniffing. A growl rumbled from the other side.

“I smell your fear,” the wolf taunted, voice dripping with amusement.

I didn’t think—I just acted. I kicked the door with every ounce of strength I had. The wolf yelped. Blood splattered against the doorframe and the lavender plant beside it. The grandfather clock was too big to move entirely, and I was moving too slow. My hands shook as I tipped it forward, letting it slam against the door. The pounding continued. BAM. BAM. BAM. I stumbled backward, chest rising and falling in rapid gasps. My shirt was damp with sweat. My arms trembled. My mind screamed that this couldn’t be real—but the pain in my foot, the scent of blood in the air, the primal fear clawing at my ribs—it was real.

Then—

Glass shattered.

My head snapped toward the living room just in time to see a wolf tumble through the broken window, landing in a mess of shattered glass.

It staggered up, shaking itself off. I bolted. Up the stairs. Into my room. The door slammed shut, lock twisting into place. I shoved my desk against it, arms shaking with effort. THUD. THUD. The wolf rammed against the door, its snarls vibrating through the wood. I spun toward my window. Outside, the yard was dark—but in the faint moonlight, I saw it. A pool of blood soaked into the dirt. But Rocky was nowhere in sight. Then I heard it—“The dog’s down. Get the boy!”

I grabbed the window ledge and pushed it open. Cold air rushed in. My hands were shaking as I crawled onto the roof, my heart pounding in my ears. Don't look down. Don't look down. I slid carefully to the edge, then let myself drop into the dirt below. My knees buckled on impact, but I forced myself to move. They were still upstairs. I had seconds. Rocky was nowhere in sight. I took off into the cornfields, the tall stalks whipping against my arms as I ran. The air was thick with the scent of earth and something else—something metallic. Blood.

The barn. I needed to get to the neighbor’s barn. My legs burned, but I kept pushing forward, my breath coming in sharp gasps. My mind raced. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. In the distance, I saw the barn. The lights were on. Someone had to be inside. I burst through the doors, panting. “Hello? Mr. Edgars?”

No answer.

I hurried past the stalls, searching. Maybe he had earbuds in. Maybe—Then I saw him. Mr. Edgars lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath his neck. My stomach lurched.

The wolves were here first.

A distant howl snapped me back to reality. They were close. Too close. I grabbed a saddle and threw it onto the horse Mr. Edgars usually let me ride. My fingers fumbled as I tightened the straps, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

Another howl.

I climbed onto the horse’s back and kicked my heels into his sides. Go. Go. Go. We bolted from the barn, dirt kicking up behind us. The wolves were on us in seconds. Their snarls cut through the night, their claws tearing into the ground as they ran. One of them snapped at the horse’s ankles. “Faster!” I urged, gripping the reins tighter.

“Remember, we need him alive,” one of the wolves growled.

“Alive? Since when?” another snapped.

“Since now. I need to question him.”

The road was ahead. If I could just make it there—The wolves were falling behind. One by one, they slowed, their panting heavy. We crossed onto the main road, the town’s distant lights barely visible against the dark horizon. Finally, they gave up. The howls faded. The horse slowed to a walk, his heavy breaths matching mine. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his mane. “Thank you,” I whispered. Flashing red and blue lights filled my vision. The sheriff pulled up beside us, rolling down his window.

“Hey, son, you know horses aren’t allowed on the road,” he said, voice casual—too casual, as if he didn’t notice the terror still clinging to me.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I panted.

He studied me, frowning slightly. “Aren’t you William’s boy?”

I nodded.

“Where are your parents? Do they know you’re out this far?”

“They’re in town.” My voice was shaky. “Wolves got in the house, so I ran.”

His expression darkened. “Wolves?”

I nodded.

“Huh... Mark had some trouble with them these past couple of days too. Kept saying they were after his little boy.” He sighed, rubbing his chin. “I’ll wait for you at the end of the road. We’ll tie up your horse and find your parents.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you, sir.”

He drove off ahead, staying in sight.

I exhaled, finally letting my muscles relax.

“Wolves. I hate wolves.”

I jerked upright. My body went rigid. I looked around. No one was there. The horse slowed, his ears twitching.

“I’m glad you found me,” the voice continued. “And I’m glad I spotted them.”

My fingers tightened around the reins.

The horse?

I swallowed hard. “Are you—”

“Yes.”

I felt lightheaded. My mouth opened, then closed. “Am I—”

“No.”

My brain was scrambling for answers. “Then... how?”

“We always have,” he said simply. “We just don’t do it around you all. You’re destructive.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“No one will believe you,” he continued. “Best to say nothing about it.”

I hesitated. “You’re saying animals have always been able to talk?”

“Yes. And we always will—even after you all die out.”

A chill ran down my spine. I licked my lips. “Is there something you know that we don’t?”

“Besides everything?” The horse snorted. “Yes.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

He sighed. “You’ll destroy each other. Hopefully, you won’t take the rest of us with you.”

I exhaled shakily. “You really don’t like us, do you?”

“No,” he said plainly. I let that sink in. “Then why save me?”

The horse walked a little slower. “You’re one of the good ones.” Something heavy settled in my chest. “I like you,” he continued. “And I’ll miss you when you leave.”

My fingers curled around the reins. “Why did the wolves want me?”

Silence.

The horse exhaled, almost… sad.

“Because… young humans grow up. And when they do, they destroy everything.”