Page 40 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

And then she’s gone.

Leaving me in a spotless shed and a head full of chaos.

I spend the rest of the day avoiding Alice.

She’s everywhere, though. Laughing with campers. Replacing paintbrushes. Sitting under the cedar tree with Rubi and her friendship bracelet empire.

I want to talk to her.

I want to tell her about the report. About how I’m scared I don’t belong here. About how her silence feels like a door I don’t have the key for anymore.

But instead, I nod when we pass.

Say nothing.

And keep walking.

That night, I walk the edge of the woods, just where the camp lights fade into wild. My limbs ache, but not from the run.

From holding myself back.

I sit on a fallen log and look up at the stars.

They used to feel like maps. Like they were pointing me somewhere.

Now they just feel... far.

Maybe Aisla’s right.

Maybe Iama liability.

But if they push me out—if Alice stays silent—and if I go...

Who even notices I’m gone?

I’m still sitting on that log when I hear a soft rustle behind me—then a sniffle.

I turn.

Ferix. The little orc kid from Cabin B. Built like a baby linebacker with a heart the size of a thimble. He’s got dirt on his cheek, a skinned knee, and that look—half pain, half shame.

He freezes when he sees me. Straightens up like he’s trying to pretend he didn’t just trip over a tree root and eat gravel.

“Hey, buddy,” I say gently. “You alright?”

He shrugs. But he’s blinking fast, like he’s trying to force the tears back in.

I squat beside him. “That knee looks rough.”

“S’fine,” he mumbles. “I’m not crying.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

He sniffs harder. “Orcs don’t cry. My cousin said it makes me a girl.”

I pause.

Then sit down beside him fully.

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