He ran through the dense thicket of birches, twigs snapping under his laced boots. His heartbeat was quickened, and he could feel the thump in his ears. He inhaled and exhaled in short regular breaths. Sweat poured down his back, and blurred his vision as a jet of liquid slid down to his eyes. He blinked.

Running through the forest at dawn had become such a routine to Aedan. Though he knew this forest inside and out, the path taken today was new to him. The werewolf sought seclusion from the life of his pack house and its inhabitants. And the seclusion offered to him by the Enchanted Forest was sufficient.

Pastel-pink and tangerine was visible in thin strips that stretched across the dusky dome. A glimpse of the morning sun peered through the tree tops. As he continued running down a narrow pathway flanked by towering trees, the dawn chorus followed Aedan. Long branches extended towards the boy, harmlessly marring the sleeves of his loose white shirt. He breathed in the smell of dewy grass and soil moistened by the rain.

It had rained heavily the day before, and Aedan spent the whole day indoors, sorting out and labelling each cabinet of his teacher's workroom. He had punished Aedan, Gabriel and Idris for sneaking out of the pack house, past the gates, patrolled by fellow werewolves, for a midnight swim in a lake. The Glassy Lake was known for its lucent appearance, which occurred once in twenty-nine days, when the face of the moon had been wholly illuminated by the rays of the sun. The boys believed in the promised strength and stamina to whoever stepped into the waters of the lake at the night of the Full Moon.

Aedan's ears had picked up water running to his right less than a mile away, and he jogged towards the sound, intending to quench his thirst that had pestered him for the past hour.

He seated himself onto a stump nearby the bank, exhausted. Aedan squinted at the sight of the river before him, sunlight dancing off the restless surface. Water ran rapidly; it lashed at and sprang over the large rocks embedded within the river bed. Splashes of gleaming freshwater speckled Aedan's flushed face and shirt. The early morning breeze swept across the land, caressing his ink-black curls. Aedan looked towards the opposite side of the river and spotted trees, whose green canopies were tinted with gold at the top, creating a smooth gradient.

With his breathing a regular and steady rise and fall of his chest, he bent down and took a handful of water. He drank the water, the chilly liquid lining his parched throat. Before he left the river's bank, Aedan had splattered his face with water and lightly combed his hair.

Autumn was blooming slowly all around him. The air had grown brisk and temperature had somewhat dropped. Leaves had altered from a saturated jade to a golden ochre. Morning dew sparkled against the dark-green of the forest floor, droplets sliding off and disappearing into the soil. The scent of fallen apples decaying on the ground filled the air with notes of cider.

He recalled his preceptor, the Moon Weaver, who was informally known as Kharon Moonweaver, teaching them, the young werewolf offsprings, the names of the seasons that humans used to define the weather. The concept used by humans was easier to convey to daily life, since the werewolves across their realm used the Full Moon features to reflect the seasons and changes in nature.

Aedan wandered around the part of the forest, where he could still hear the river's hiss. Neither there were any errands for him back at the pack house nor did he have any sessions with the Moon Weaver until afternoon.

He was fighting the urge to stroll just further down the forest, east to where their pack area had been located. He had no intention to encounter humans, and it wasn't like humans particularly enjoyed stumbling upon a werewolf in the woods. Humans knew werewolves never trespassed the sliver of the forest on its border closer to Springville, therefore if they saw Aedan walking in his human form, they wouldn't recognise him as a werewolf.

They were afraid of them, the sort of afraid for families to leave their house at first glimpses of twilight or to leave the shutters closed for the night. It was strange to imagine that a long time ago, humans had lived in peace with werewolves, establishing the government of Starleten together and forming close-knit communities.

Aedan had walked for what felt like hours before he found himself eyeing a tall elm tree.

Looks like this tree will be my ideal stretching after a long run, he thought.

Oval-shaped leaves blanketed a small hill, which elevated the regal-looking tree. Its golden-brown crown sat atop its branching limbs, whispering tales of the ancient forest as the wind gently ruffled crowns of its neighbours.

Aedan came closer to the trunk and ran his callused palm along the scaly bark. In a swift movement, he leapt at the closest branch and grasped it with his both hands. His legs dangled, and he groaned as muscles on his back and neck stretched one by one. He tensed his torso, gathered momentum by swinging forward and backward and hoisted himself onto the branch. Aedan grappled the immense trunk to steady himself, and continued climbing up the tree, carefully placing his booted feet onto sturdy branches.

At the top, he peered over the elm's canopy, his position flimsy. A rich diversity of trees caught Aedan's eye as his gaze swept over their many-hued canopies of lean birches, stationary oaks and fiery maples.

The tamed wind inside the forest now blowed angrily, whipping at his dark hair. With the wind came the syrupy scent of honeysuckle and something fresh that Aedan couldn't recognise. He stiffened and sniffed the current of air, trying to follow the trail of this scent that wind had picked up on its way. Aedan couldn't grasp the presence of honeysuckle in the early-autumn air. And perhaps he had given in to his curiosity because after exactly one leap from the top of the elm tree, he was already jogging towards that tempting scent.

It never crossed his mind, as he ran through the forest, bouncing over fallen logs and swinging on the thick branches that stuck out in his path, that it was curiosity that killed the cat. What could be waiting for him? What was the source of the scent? And perhaps it was foolish of him to let the curiosity take over him, he knew how to be cautious.

Well, he thought so.

He was nearing the nearest and only village, Springville, which bordered the forest on the east. Aedan halted to listen to any footsteps or sound of humans talking. A reverberant rustle of leaves as the wind rippled at them over and over. There was no one around at that early time of the day, anyway; even if there was, they all would be home, busy with their daily morning routines.

Well, he anticipated so.

Aedan continued to run towards that luring scent and spin all possible scenarios in his head so keenly, he barely noticed a crouched down figure next to an elderberry bush.

Next thing he knew, he had thrust into the figure's back, and, right after, the impact had sent him soaring through the air, trees and forested floor a blur in his vision. Collecting his scattered thoughts in midair, he strained his muscles to perform a swift somersault forwards to avoid a graceless landing.

What a graceful landing, he scoffed to himself, and whirled around to meet the absolutely petrified face of the figure, who turned out to be a girl, after all.

Spurring out of her petrification, she shook her head and then fixed her gaze at Aedan in stark surprise.

At least, he thought, now I know where the scent came from.