Gwen’s vision blurred in and out, the room obscured in a gray haze. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pounding against her fragile skull. The blur diminished as she reopened her eyes. She didn't know where she was. How did she get here? Fixing her gaze on the cream ceiling, she disassociated from her current reality. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what may have transpired. Was she in a hospital? It couldn’t be. Any attempts to pry the answer from her subconscious led to a firm, sharp no. Last night... last night—what the hell happened? Peeking her head up, Gwen peered around. She lay on a twin-size bed with thin blue sheets and a gray blanket folded at the foot of the bed. The edge of her vision blurred into a light gray but faded out.  

Silence engulfed her, static cracking and chirping in her ears. The overhead lights dulled the room's pleasant colors. The room’s chill made goosebumps appear. So did the inkling of being watched. As her eyes adjusted to the weak light, she noticed the rough oak floors. It seemed as if decades of shoes had trampled over the boards. The walls were made of cream-colored boards, similar color to the ceiling. There were beds on either side of the room. On the west side of the room, a large cherry wood cabinet stood. There were doors strewn about the room. Gwen laid back down, her head resting on the soft pillow. Her heart pounded against her head. Her head spun round and round, making her dizzy. 

Out of the silence, a soft voice remarked. “I see my patient is awake.” The voice had a slight crackle behind it. Gwen snapped back to reality, opening her weary eyes as her quiet moments drifted away. Light footsteps approached, the rattle of a clipboard apparent. She looked at the voice and the small figure at the foot of her bed. The figure placed the clipboard in a holder, and it moved closer to the bed. Getting a glimpse of the person, Gwen noticed he had fine silver hair. He had sweet, round eyes the color of the deep ocean. The man had a striking smile consuming his face. It warmed Gwen. He dressed in a long, white lab coat that seemed slightly oversized. 

“Good morning, Gwendolyn!” A scent of milkweed drifted over to her. It was sweet and warm, almost like a warm plate of cookies. “You were out for a long while.” He placed the back of his hand on her forehead. The medic’s touch was gentle, almost like how a mother might nurture her child. 

“Everything… the night was a blur.” Gwen drew in a small breath. “Am I in the hospital? Where are my parents? How do you know my name?” Many questions swarmed her head, but the medic’s eyes conveyed sadness. He could not answer all her questions… would he?  

“Well-” The medic paused, rubbing his neck out of nervousness. “You are in my infirmary. You were attacked by a Hellhound.” He buzzed around her bed, giving her a small task to perform. “Your name? It was in a book on your person. And my name is Julian, but you call me Jules.”

She tilted her head, confusion assuming her face. “A-a what?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. His eyes posed an unsure look. With a small shake of his head, he spoke. “It’s a type of wolf — you hit your head on the pavement. It led to you gaining a concussion.”

“How many…” Jules cut her off, knowing exactly the question she would ask next.

“Three days. You have been in and out of consciousness for three days. I have been looking after you for those three days.”

Gwen’s anger swelled, and she sat up. “Three days!?” The room spun like a disco ball, light splattering the wall in a scattered pattern. Jules urged her to lie down, but it would do her no good to lie like a sack of potatoes. She diverted her attention away from Jules and focused on a faint click. In the infirmary's doorway stood a tall man, his frightening gaze pointing in her direction. Those eyes were predatory, and they sent shivers up Gwen’s spine. His shirt was fitted against his torso, showing his muscle. He also wore a hefty belt with sharp knives and weapons hanging from it. Like a clumsy puppy, the man strode towards them in lengthy, heavy strides. He stared down at Jules unrelentingly, as if he were going to snap him in half. The strange man began conversing in a low whisper with Jules. He made no hostile advances. 

Gwen could only hear fragments of conversation. Girl. Clairvoyant. Potential target. Train and protect. She could only ponder what they spoke about. However, she didn’t focus on it too much. The strange, tall man brought her a familiarity she couldn’t shake. The aura surrounding him was like the wolf from the attack. His hair was black and thick, like the beast’s shaggy fur. He also had slender, pointed ears similar to the wolf. A terrifying connection sparked in her mind, and she attempted to distance herself from the man. “Stay back, you feral beast!” She screamed, terrified, out of her own mind.

Confused eyes turned towards her. Jules furrowed his brows, bewildered by her sudden outburst. The tall man raised an eyebrow, no hostile emotion emitting from him, but an aura of amusement. Jules stood, rushing over to Gwen’s side in an instant. Her heart thumped against her chest, almost as if it might explode. She didn’t want this weird hellhound creature near her. “GET OUT!” She shrieked, small tears gathering in her eyes.

Jules had reached her bedside, placing a hand on her back. She became bombarded with drowsiness. Her eyelids became heavy, threatening to close. She fought the sleepiness, her eyes fluttering between open and shut. Jules’ voice was like honey, the softness whisking fear away. “There is no need to be afraid.” He whispered. “He’s harmless.” His hand was still pressed to her back, this induced state worsening.

A peculiar white glow came from his hand as he withdrew it, but it quickly vanished like smoke. Gwen’s vision swirled, as if induced with sleeping medication. The tall man watched from where he stood, gazing at her with intense eyes. They unnerved Gwen, reminding her of the night of the attack. The night she witnessed her notebook’s horrors face to face. She stared into the distance, thinking about the assault, until a notion dawned on her. Her notebook! She had lost it in the onslaught. It was deadly important to her. It was her sole means of escape from the outside world. She had found solace in writing about the strange creatures she was forced to live among. And now it was gone. Although, a burst of determination gripped her body. “I have to recover what I lost.” She panicked. 

Jules’ eyes locked with the tall man’s as they exchanged glances. After her frantic outburst, they most likely assumed she was unstable, which was a reasonable assumption. Gwen pushed Jules away as he attempted to grab her arm. She didn’t want him touching her. Not until she found what she lost. The tall man snarled and met her gaze. She stood, her vision blurring, but she pushed Jules out of the way. He was light and simple to knock over. She raced towards the large glass doors leading out into a main room. It was the entrance to the infirmary. However, the tall man grabbed onto her arm, his grip constricting. Gwen yowled in agony as she was whip-lashed because of the new anchor point. Jules caught wind of the tall man’s actions, rushing over to help. “Bane! Let go of her! You could hurt her more than she is!” He scolded Bane. 

Bane rolled his eyes, a groan of annoyance escaping his throat. He loosened his grip on Gwen, and she lounged at the door. His grip tightened, a growl coming from his throat. Bane’s ear twitched. Gwen kept lurching toward the door, trying to escape to find her lost notebook. Soon enough, the glass doors opened. In stepped a man with icy blue eyes. He held the notebook Gwen tried desperately to retrieve. He glared at her. Once her eyes laid on the book, she relaxed, her muscles going limp.

“Calm down.” He hissed. His iciness sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ve got your little notebook right here. It appeared to be important, but it’s unnecessary.” Unnecessary? Why wouldn’t she need it? It contained everything she’s known. Her entire life was in that book. The man continued to glare. He seemed emotionless, almost stoic. His glare did not waver. 

Gwen drew in a deep breath, her nerves firing. This man unnerved her. “I-I apologize.” She croaked. Fear and guilt pooled in her stomach, making a deep, multilayered knot. His tone was unforgiving, almost venomous. It made her wonder what he’d gone through to be so ridged. “I-I shouldn’t have acted so irrationally.” She looked down at the worn oak floors. “That notebook is important to me.” Bane let go of her. His grip left a red mark, and she rubbed her arm. Gwen looked up at the man before Jules led her back to the recovery bed, coaxing her to lie down. Instead, she sat on the edge, staring at the man mindlessly. He shifted, a conflicted look crossing his face. “That’s common when someone loses something dear to them.” His coldness pierced his soul. He now carried a calloused look of sorrow. “It doesn’t matter now.” The man walked towards her, reaching her bed in long strides. “My name is Jax.”

Jax handed the notebook to her. The leather cover was riddled with deep cute, the binding ripping and falling apart. Gwen looked up at Jax. He stood straight and firm, almost like a noble. He seemed to care very little about others, and Gwen thought of herself as a nuisance. Jax’s hair was a loose and scruffy, jet-black mess. He wore a beat-up black leather bomber jacket. He held his head up high, searching his surrounding as if he had an extreme case of paranoia. “Well… my name is Gwen. Nice to meet you, Jax.” She gripped her notebook tight. Jax simply nodded, not moving or recognizing her. She scooted closer to Jules, his aura welcoming and calming, almost like an angel sent to protect her.