chasing the storms of yesterday

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And all of a sudden, the world was too quiet.

Not the peaceful sort of quiet—the kind before a storm. This was the kind that felt wrong, like something had been stolen from the air itself.

There was no honking of busy traffic, no squeal of brakes, no steady hum of engines. The rhythmic shuffle of people on the sidewalks was gone. No cheerful jingle of shop bells, no distant wail of a siren cutting through the noise. Not that she had ever truly loved the city, no matter how much she had tried to convince herself otherwise.

She missed the wind whispering through tall wheatgrass, the low, steady grumble of a tractor passing by, the gentle coos of chickens and the muffled crunch of cattle grazing.

And God, did she miss the smell.

The sharp, sweet scent of sweat on a working horse, rich and familiar. The fresh-tilled earth, dark and damp, waiting for the year’s harvest. The clean air that carried for miles over rolling hills of knee-high grass. The soft breath of honeysuckle drifted from the tangled overgrown bushes, its sweetness clinging to the air—the same way it once clung to her tongue when she plucked the blooms as a child, savoring the drop of nectar inside. The ripeness of blackberries, heavy on their brambles along the winding red dirt road, left their mark on her fingers and the hems of her dresses, smudges of summer that never seemed to fully wash away.

She couldn’t smell the city anymore—the stench of concrete and exhaust, the desperate attempt to drown it all in the latest perfume.

Now, the air was clean. Pure. It smelled like home.

She realized she was lying on her back, staring up at the sky. It stretched vast and open, a brilliant blue, framed by drifting clouds. But something was off. Just a moment ago, the sky had been darker, muddied by the city’s haze.

She moved to brush her hair back, feeling the strands shift against her face, cascading past her shoulders—but it was softer now. Denser.

She pushed herself upright, and the world tilted. Her balance was off. Her limbs moved in ways they shouldn’t—too many joints bending too easily. A sharp breath caught in her throat, but it came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher. Wilder.

She turned, expecting the familiar weight of her body, but what she saw wasn’t hers.

Lean, lanky limbs. A thin coat of sandy and mocha fur. Wisps of cheek fur that almost mirrored the blonde hair she once had. A tail shifting in the wind behind her as if it had always been there.

She lurched back, heart hammering—too fast, too wild, too unlike anything human.

And that’s when it hit her.

She wasn’t.

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The world was no easy place, that much Salem knew—that much he expected. It'd always been darker—harsher—falling apart at the seams in some places. But finding the good parts, the parts warm and salted with decades of working families, the parts kneaded by the feet of people and not the littering of pavement, the pockets of happiness in a world tainted with the mistakes of man, it was easy when you knew where to look.

But this place, this wild and untamed place, was not the small town he'd grown up within. And he wasn't the man he once was, his hat replaced with perked ears and his boots exchanged for furred paws. He wasn't a man at all, not any longer. But the ruggedness of the terrain was a pleasure he indulged in, still, whether it was with human feet that he walked with or not.

Callahan, in all his southern glory, was a welcoming soul. A little on the wary side, but Salem had always been a wild thing, loosening the reigns on his life and letting it run free. Not everyone found themselves as easy-going. And Salem supposed he couldn't fault them, not when life tied them tight and threw them over the fence into a new world. New bodies, too.

His new limbs guided him across the Valley without any sense of purpose, and it was there that he saw her—it, another, whatever the hell he was meant to refer to them as. He'd watched her silently, watched the realization cross her face before he even dared approach. Answers leapt to the tip of his tongue, prepared to assess and reassure.

“Ya' see anything neat up there?” In the sky, he meant.

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What kind of drink could’ve possibly led her to this fever dream? She wondered, though she overlooked the fact that she hardly drank—ever.

And yet, here she was.

No reasonable explanation came to mind as to why she was no longer on two legs but four. She felt the same. She remembered her life as clear as a summer day, all the way back to childhood. But the moment right before she ended up here? Foggy. Like trying to recall a dream the second you wake up, only for it to slip right through your fingers.

One blink, and now she was staring at a whole different sky.

This wasn’t a dream.

It didn’t feel like one, not in the way that mattered. Dreams were soft around the edges, half-formed, fleeting. But she was too aware. Too raw. Too here for this to be all in her head.

She was really here.
She was really a… wolf.

Huh.

Tallulah took a deep, steadying breath, trying to tie herself back down to reality—because let’s face it, this was her new reality. Some strange, heavy part of her knew there was no going home. The thought should’ve sent a chill down her spine, but instead, it settled over her like an old truth. A gut feeling, the kind that never steered her wrong when real danger was near.

She wondered how her mama felt right now, knowing her daughter had disappeared. Would they put out a search for her? She hoped not. The thought of her mama looking for her, hoping, praying, when there was no hope to be had… she couldn’t bear it.

Then something changed.

The air shifted. The steady, wild heartbeat in her chest nearly stalled.

Footsteps.

Her head snapped around, every instinct on high alert, body tensed, already prepared to take off. But what she saw made her hesitate.

Another wolf.

He was taller than her, broader in the shoulders, his auburn coat rich and fiery, like autumn leaves catching the sun. His green eyes were so deep they almost matched the earth beneath their paws—striking. He carried himself with the kind of presence that made her rethink everything she thought she knew.

For a moment, she froze. Fear, real fear, gripped her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. It made her nauseous, made her feel helpless—just like she did that day.

Then he spoke.

And the feeling… just washed away.
Like water off a duck’s back.

A small, unexpected chuckle slipped out before she could stop it, quick and breathy. She tried to swallow it down, but the question he asked had caught her off guard.

He’s askin’ me about the sky?

Not what the hell is going on? Not who are you? or how’d you get here? Just… the sky?

Tallulah sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. Something about this stranger felt oddly familiar, though she couldn’t quite place why.

“Just blue skies,” she answered, voice slipping back into the old drawl she thought she’d lost. “Lil’ cloudy, but wind’s alright.”

She glanced back at him, taking in his steady gaze, the way he held himself like he belonged here—like he had answers she didn’t.

“Well,” she drawled, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Seeing as they were just standing here, staring at each other like a couple of lost calves, she figured she might as well make herself proper.

She flicked her ear, the movement still foreign to her, but she didn’t let it shake her.

“I’m Tallulah,” she said, voice smooth as molasses. “You got a name, or am I just gonna have to start callin’ you ‘Big Red?’”

She spoke about the sky half-jokingly, but when she looked up, something settled in her chest. She’d always seen the sky as a canvas, a story that changed with every breath of the wind. It was never just blue—it was alive, shifting, rolling, always on the brink of something new.

One second, blue skies.
The next, gray.
Just like that.

The pang of what she’d lost still sat deep inside her. But there was something else now, too—something she hadn’t expected.

Freedom.

Once, she’d been tied down by fear, held hostage by the past until she had no choice but to run from it. And yet, somehow, here she was, back in the saddle.

The wide open spaces stretched out before her, and for the first time in a long time…
she couldn’t be held back, even if she tried.

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