The disaperants
I couldn’t move.
My throat tightened, my mind struggling to process what I’d just heard. “C–can you repeat that?” I finally managed to stammer, my voice barely a whisper.
The policeman standing before me looked down with tired eyes and a sad smile. “Your father, Foulard Reed Solace, has disappeared. When was the last time you saw him?”
His words hit harder the second time, slicing through the fog in my head. “This morning,” I said quietly. “He dropped me off at school before going to work.”
The officer nodded, jotting something into a small notebook. “We’ll keep you and your family updated. For now, try to stay calm and return to class.”
As he turned and walked away, I stood frozen in the empty hallway. The hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence, but my brain was still replaying his words — your father has disappeared.
I finally forced myself to move, heading back toward science class. My footsteps echoed down the corridor, too loud in the stillness. One thought looped over and over in my head — what Dad had told Jasper and me this morning, right before we got out of the car. Something about staying strong and sticking together.
I didn’t understand what he meant then. Now it made my stomach twist.
Before I could think more, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me into a warm, familiar chest. Jasper. I turned in his hold and clung to his shirt as the first tear slid down my cheek.
“Violet, it’s going to be okay,” he murmured, his deep voice trembling slightly. “Dad will come home like he always does.”
He held me tighter for a moment before stepping back. “Come on. Mum will be here soon. Let’s wait by the gate.”
We walked out of the building, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the schoolyard. At the far end of the car park, Mum’s old blue Holden ute sat idling, the engine sputtering like it was as tired as she looked.
In the passenger seat was Uncle Enzo — Mum’s brother — his dark hair streaked with silver, his eyes heavy. The back of the ute was stacked with boxes tied down under a faded tarp.
I frowned. “Uncle En, where’s Mum? And why are there so many boxes?”
He sighed, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “We’ve got to move, kiddo. I’ll switch with your mum when we get there.”
He didn’t say anything else after that, and I didn’t have the courage to ask.
The ride felt endless. Jasper stared out his window the whole time, jaw tight, while I watched the scenery change from city streets to winding rural roads lined with trees. Every now and then, I thought I saw the same black SUV a few cars behind us, but when I blinked, it was gone.
When we finally stopped, the sky had turned orange and pink. Our new house sat at the end of a gravel driveway — a small, weathered home surrounded by towering pines. Mum stood on the porch, arms crossed, more boxes stacked behind her.
“Mum, why are we moving again?” Jasper asked quietly as we climbed out.
“We just have to,” she said, not meeting our eyes.
Uncle Enzo helped unload the boxes, then leaned close to whisper something to Mum. I couldn’t hear the words, but whatever he said made her eyes shine with tears. They hugged tightly.
“Take care of them,” he told her before climbing back into the ute.
I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time we’d ever see Uncle Enzo again.
That night, after hours of unpacking, Mum told us to pick our rooms. Jasper and I raced through the hallway, laughing for the first time all day, but the fun didn’t last long.
“I’ll take the big room,” Mum said firmly when she came upstairs. “Jasper, you get the next one. Violet, the smaller one’s yours.”
I sighed but didn’t argue. My new room wasn’t bad — small but cozy, with a big window seat that looked out over the trees. The forest stretched endlessly beyond, shadows whispering between the trunks.
“Dinner!” Mum called from downstairs.
We gathered around the kitchen island, plates steaming with pasta. For a few minutes, the silence was almost comforting — until Mum spoke.
“Violet, you’ll start school tomorrow.”
“What? We haven’t even unpacked! And it’s halfway through the term,” I protested.
“Baby, it’s best for you to start now,” she said softly. “I have to begin my new job, and Jasper will help with the house.”
Her tone left no room for argument, so I nodded and forced another bite of pasta.
After dinner, I headed upstairs, too restless to sleep. The air in my room was cool and smelled like rain. I crossed to the window to shut it, and that’s when I froze.
Out by the treeline stood a wolf.
It was massive — easily taller than me on all fours — with dark fur and a tail tipped in silver-white. The moonlight caught in its eyes, making them glow faintly.
I blinked.
It was gone.
Heart pounding, I pressed my hand against the glass, searching the shadows. Nothing. Just the whisper of wind through leaves.
I crawled into bed, telling myself it was just a trick of the light. But as I closed my eyes, I couldn’t shake the image — the way its gaze had locked on mine, steady and knowing.
Something about it felt… familiar.
And deep down, I knew the truth I didn’t want to admit.
That wolf hadn’t been a dream.
It was real.
And somehow, it was connected to me.
