Prelude - Howlove: The First Howl
📓 Juno’s Cabin, Rainy Night
I don’t know how many hours have passed since I arrived at this cabin.
At first, I tried to count them carefully, checking my watch... but it felt as if time itself had stopped.
And memory has started to fade with it.
The rain has been falling for hours.
It drums on the roof as if trying to remind me that the world still exists out there, even if I no longer belong to it.
The fire in the fireplace breathes weakly; sometimes I think it’s the only thing that still answers me.
Juno sleeps in her room.
I can hear her through the door—her breathing slow and steady, with a rhythm that gives me peace and fear at the same time.
I don’t know if she dreams of me, or if, in her dreams, her world calls her back... the same world I came from, the one I can barely imagine anymore.
The table is cluttered with things that shouldn’t mean anything anymore—but somehow still do:
an empty cup, the lantern, and my old notebook.
I brought it in my backpack, never thinking it would become my only way to leave a trace behind.
The pages smell of old coffee, blurred ink, and memories I don’t want to lose.
I stare at it for a while, without touching it.
It’s strange to think that if something happens to me, maybe no one will ever know I was here.
Nor how I crossed.
Nor whom I loved.
So... I guess I have to write.
Even if it’s just in case I don’t come back.
Even if it’s only to remember who I was before I touched her fur.
The pencil feels heavy between my fingers.
I take a breath, and for the first time in days, I break the silence.
“This isn’t a message,” I whisper. “It’s a proof of existence.”
I open the notebook.
The first page creaks.
The fire flickers.
And I begin to write, hoping that if someone ever finds it, they’ll know there was once a human...
who crossed the boundary between worlds for love.
🌕Chapter 1 — Shun’s Journal
📓Juno’s Cabin, Rainy Night
Dear diary...
Well, diary, reader, or whoever ends up finding this.
I’ve never written one before.
Never saw the need for it.
But for some reason, this time feels different.
Maybe it’s instinct... or the fear of fading away without a trace.
I still remember how it all began.
It was a cold, windy night—one of those that mark the end of summer and the beginning of autumn.
I had everything ready: my travel clothes, my suitcase, and the flight papers.
I was supposed to leave the country for two months, accompanying my uncle on a diplomatic mission to France.
I still don’t understand why he chose me—the nephew of his immigrant sister—to assist him, but I guess destiny has a peculiar sense of humor.
That night, I decided not to take the car.
I preferred to walk a bit through town and grab a taxi near the central park.
The air smelled of fallen leaves and damp earth; the sky had that grayish tone that only autumn can paint.
It was a peaceful walk.
I said goodbye to my parents and my friends... well, “friends,” though sometimes they felt more like wives—they’d scold me, correct me, and look after me more than they’d ever admit.
Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am.
When I was about to get into the taxi heading for Atlanta’s airport, something strange happened.
A howl.
Loud. Long.
It wasn’t the sound of a dog or a coyote.
It was a wolf’s howl.
And the strangest thing was... it sounded sad.
Like it was calling only to me.
I had lived in that town for three years and had never heard anything like it.
Even so, I told the driver to leave—I said I’d forgotten something and would take another cab later.
And I followed the sound.
I walked to the park, guided by that echo that seemed to move along with me.
There weren’t many people around; it was late, almost midnight.
The howl led me to the bridge at the center of the park—the small one that crosses the stream.
The sound came from below.
I thought maybe there was an injured animal... a lost or frightened wolf.
And I made what was perhaps my biggest mistake... or my greatest blessing.
I went down alone, without thinking, my backpack still on my shoulders.
I slipped.
Fell.
Closed my eyes, waiting for the impact... but it never came.
When I opened them, I was no longer in my town.
I stood on another bridge—larger, made of concrete, like the ones along a highway.
And it was raining.
Pouring hard, even though there had been no forecast for rain that night.
I got up, dazed.
Looked around for any sign, any car, any light... nothing.
Only the sound of the river below.
And then I saw her.
A silhouette—female, sitting by the side, her school uniform soaked through.
She was crying.
Her hair—or what I thought was hair—hung over her face.
I thought she was human... until I saw the moonlight shimmer across her fur.
Sometimes I wonder why I did it.
Why I answered that howl.
Was it simple curiosity?
Compassion?
Or was it... love?
A howl of love.
Or, as I prefer to call it, a Howlove.
I don’t know how much time has passed since that night.
But I keep thinking about that moment, because everything changed there.
My home, my friends, my certainties... all left behind.
And if you ever read this, Father, Mother...
I want you to know that I’m okay.
I’m not dead.
Just... far away.
Very far.
And even if I never come back, I want you to know that I found something worth losing everything for.
Sincerely,
Shun
I close the notebook.
Leave it on the table beside the empty cup.
The fire barely lights the room, and the sound of rain blends with her breathing through the door.
Tomorrow will be another day here, in her world.
And even though I don’t know what awaits me, tonight... for the first time since I crossed, I’m not afraid.
TheHowlovedidn’t stop.
It only changed its form.
