That afternoon, eighteen years later, the sun was looming low on the horizon, resigned to remain hidden behind dense, dark clouds that seemed to threaten a terrible downpour.

In that forest, far from the ivy-covered house, among the imposing trees, Zenitt, lying on the ground on a small square blanket, laughed out loud as she listened to the story Nadhir was telling her. Zenitt wasn’t really paying that much attention to what the boy was saying. The truth was that all her attention was focused on other things. Like, for example, that penetrating look of an even more intense green than the lush vegetation around them. Or the subtle beard that poked out, shyly, at that powerful jaw. Or the way those muscles bulged the dark and smooth skin of their arms.

“…and that’s why they call me that,” finished the boy. Zenitt just looked at him, smiling, her fingertips caressing his chin. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zenitt said. “This is nice.”

“Yes,” Nadhir said, holding her face close to his.

Zenitt felt first the warmth emanating from the boy, followed by the softness of his lips and his powerful hands running down her back. She curled up on his wide chest, soaking in the smell of his skin, a scent that reminded her of moss, almonds, and ginger.

Embracing each other in silence, the two stared up at the increasingly overcast sky that seemed to blush with the sunset. Zenitt could have stayed there forever. However, the increasingly dark clouds seemed to unsettle Nadhir, who stirred on the blanket, turning away from Zenitt.

“I got to go,” he said. “See you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Zenitt replied as the two of them stood up. Looking up, searching for his eyes, Zenitt added, “Another kiss?”

Nadhir smiled, put his arms around Zenitt and drew her to him. Their lips met again and Zenitt felt her feet and the ground growing apart as though she was floating…

“See you tomorrow,” said Nadhir, returning the girl down to Earth.

“Goodbye.”

Zenitt remained motionless, watching as Nadhir walked away, taking with him those eyes, that warm skin, and that scent which was very much his own and no one else’s.

“Well,” Zenitt muttered, as she picked up the blanket and tucked it into her backpack, the last rays of the sun bouncing off her before it got lost in the mountains. “Time to go home.”

Zenitt had referred to that place as “the forest” for as long as she could remember. A more accurate term to describe the place, however, would be “the grove”. Too small to be considered a forest in its own right, the grove was nevertheless a large splash of greenery in the middle of the cold, grey asphalt of the town of Yova. A part of the grove, fenced off from the rest by the fence to which Zenitt was heading, served as a municipal park. In that area, the trees leaving larger gaps amongst each other and the bushes were meticulously pruned every winter. The rest of the grove, on the other hand, acted as a small sanctuary for the wildlife that, over the years, had become enveloped in the hustle and bustle, the smoke, and the noise of Yova.

And it was a sanctuary, too, for Zenitt. Among the trees, Zenitt felt the relief of moving away from the cold, shadowy dwelling with which time had not been kind. Among the trees, she kept away from her mother’s inquisitive gaze. Among the trees, she could meet with Nadhir, for Zenitt was absolutely convinced that, if she so much as thought about showing up at home with her boyfriend, her mother’s head would explode, despite the girl being nearly eighteen.

Walking down the winding path, lost in thought, Zenitt needed a few moments to realise that something was amiss: peeking through the bluish leaves of a nearby bush, a pair of bright, dark eyes were watching her.

And they were not the eyes of a person.

Zenitt stopped dead on her track, her gaze fixed on those eyes. It was then that her ears caught the low, weak growl that came from the bush adorned with the wolf’s eyes.

Dragging her feet on the ground, a cloud of dust rising above her ankles, Zenitt slowly retreated, holding her breath, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. She walked away from the bush as slowly as possible, keeping her attention on those eyes that were fixed on her, analysing her intensely.

With her forehead covered in an icy sweat, Zenitt kept on retreating. The animal was already poking its nose through the leaves, the sharp, long fangs waiting for the best moment to close around the girl’s neck, who, at that sight, stumbled and, before she could do anything about it, started to fall heavily on her back, the air escaping hastily from her lungs in a painful exhalation.

It was as if time around her had slowed down. Her body was driven backwards. At the same time, the monstrous animal jumped from behind the bush, dangerously eating up the distance between them.

Zenitt, resigned, knowing what fate had in store for her, watched the wolf practically fly towards her. She closed her eyes, waiting first for the impact on the ground, after which the beast’s sharp teeth and claws would come, delighting in tearing every inch of her skin.

However, the course of events was very different.

A powerful torrent of energy took over Zenitt’s body, causing it to propel itself powerfully forward until it landed on the ground on all fours. She tried, unsuccessfully, to stand on her feet. Something was preventing her from standing upright.

The wolf, who a mere second earlier had shown violence, anger, now looked… restless. Scared, almost. It was motionless, teeth still visible, a hoarse growl still echoing in its throat, still ready to attack at any moment. Something, however, had changed the animal’s attitude. A moment earlier, it had been ready to attack Zenitt, but now, it seemed to be preparing to defend itself.

Zenitt’s brain was unable to process what was happening. Still on all fours, she took a step forward. The wolf shuddered visibly, the volume of his growls increasing. What is it that suddenly frightened it so much? The girl took another step and heard something that made her jump: a different growl, which no doubt belonged to an even bigger animal than that wolf. And, judging by the strength of the growl, the animal was very close.

But Zenitt had no time to worry about the other animal, since that growl was all the wolf needed to make up its mind. The beast let out a terrified lament and, armed with what little courage it had left, jumped on Zenitt who, in turn, pounced on the animal instinctively.

The teeth found the soft skin of the neck and the powerful jaws closed tightly, warm blood gushing out as the prey shook desperately trying to free itself, its struggle getting weaker and weaker. Only when the victim was unable to put up any more resistance did the fangs leave the bruised skin.

Absolutely drenched in blood, neck in tatters, the lifeless body of the wolf lay beside the bush. Zenitt, struggling to control the violent tremors that had invaded her body, watched the scene trying to find a logical explanation for what had just happened.

I just killed a wolf… with one bite. It’s not possible, it just doesn’t make any sense…

When the girl looked down at the floor, she found something that only added to her stupefaction: her hands, resting on the floor—she was still unable to stand—were different. They were no longer hands. They were paws. Huge paws, covered by a thick bush of snow-white fur.

I need to find a mirror.

Still on all fours, Zenitt jumped over the fence into the area set aside as a park and approached the river that ran through it. She stopped by the bank, bathed in the whitish light of the streetlights, and poked her head over it.

The thing that stared back made her let out a cry that echoed through the trees like a powerful thunderclap. That could not be real, it must be some kind of hallucination. Her entire face was covered with white hair. Her ears were pointed, and she could move them as she pleased. Her pupils were but two slits, like the eyes of a cat, with a huge iris of the deepest red, very much unlike her usual amber brown. Then, Zenitt understood that the roar she had heard before, the one she had attributed to another animal, had been born in her own throat.

In some inexplicable way, Zenitt had become a huge albino lioness.