Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damnatio memoriae. 

The deliberate erasure of a person following their political failure or their death, and in the case of Nevermore’s secrets, an erasing of a rabid beast. 

Forgotten and buried is a creature of the night, shying from the day and tearing into flesh by the moon’s peak. Known as the beast of Nevermore or what was once a young teenage girl by the name of Enid Sinclair, is a monstrous werewolf. Far bigger than most wolves and feral to kill, a werewolf bound not by the moon but by blood, changed on the night of a blood moon nearly six years ago. 

Five years ago, Enid succumbed to her wolf form in a desperate race to save Wednesday from being tangled with the skull tree roots and buried with the dirt of betrayal. In an act of heroism, parallel to what triggered her wolfing out the previous year, Enid grew into large bones and fur to dig Wednesday out of the false grave.

She felt the moon drag her under a trance-like state and a small window of seconds allowed her to hear her name a final time and to memorise the sight and scent of Wednesday.

Dark roses, petrichor after a stormy night, old pages of an ancient book and devotion.

She turned away to the dark of the forest, knowing she herself was now in danger, but Wednesday was safe and in that moment it was all that mattered.

She was a lone wolf now, not bound by the moon and cursed by a hunt.

A hunt for her head because her existence without control, without a pack and without connection was a danger in the form of a ticking time bomb.

Each year without humanity, Enid slowly slipped away under the talons of her beast and she tasted blood more than she could count. There was no longer a girl in those golden eyes that were once a striking blue.

Five years since Enid was a human. 

Five years of an endless chase.

Five years of Wednesday’s life have been spent hunting down the elusive beast of Nevermore.

Wednesday has always come close to Enid’s trail but the wolf was somehow smart and quick enough to elude the frightening girl at every turn and in every corner. 

The beast has been chased by hunters, its own kind, and other supernaturals, but Wednesday has been eliminating creatures and people alike that she’s found an obstacle in the great search over the years, for the beast is someone close to her cold, slow-beating heart and it is the epitome of sunshine, social media addict, and eternally shining Enid Sinclair.

Presence and absence taboo from anyone’s lips, erased from wolf pack records—her name remains a whisper in the dead halls of Nevermore. The memory of Enid Sinclair is no more and only the myth of the beast remains.

But Wednesday is condemned to the memory of who was once her closest confidant and in Enid’s words, her only best friend, and she gave Enid her word more than half a decade ago and she had never gone back on it. An Addams always stays true to their word and Wednesday will be damned if she’d break an oath.

Five years ago she set off on a weak trail alongside her uncle Fester, discovered by a schoolmate and someone she could call a good friend now, Agnes Demille. Four years ago she travelled to multiple states and only found corpses of deer and small animals and Enid’s mark of paws and scent. Three years ago she slayed the Hyde known as Tyler Galpin, who had been on the run without mercy, but the bloodshed neither felt satisfying nor rewarding when she knew it wasn’t going to magically make Enid reappear in front of her.

Two years ago she began to hunt packs who were hunting Enid, maiming the lot of them who tried to eliminate the alpha wolf. Bodies were discarded and Wednesday grew colder each passing day. 

Enid’s friends and Wednesday’s schoolmates from their time at Nevermore had a hand in tracking the packs and wolves who were hot on Enid’s disappearing trail and, without fail, would always beat the mutts there first, attacking and killing on site if she needed to. She was content and glad that Enid’s friends were still searching for her too but their efforts were not as grave as Wednesday and she would not accept their physical help, only accepting to work alone. 

Without Enid, there was no reason for Wednesday to want the pull of connection. She found maintaining relationships tiresome and her schoolmates didn’t put it past her because they knew why Wednesday was growing icier every day. She didn’t have the sun beside her anymore and it was Enid who, at the very beginning, made Wednesday reconsider every choice and preconception she had about making friends.  

It was all for Enid and she would not fail in bringing her back.

She couldn’t fail.

She would let Enid down, everyone else and, worst of all, she would let herself down and she will not allow that to happen. 

Chapter Text

Wednesday runs until the breaths in her lungs cease to nothing and blend into the thrumming lands of the forest. She runs and runs and she doesn’t want to believe there’s any truth in the findings.

Strange creature spotted in the mountains of — mountain lion sighted at the nature reserve — wolf on the loose — hunters locked in on wolf creature —

No.

Wednesday can’t let this happen. She had been so blissfully unaware, the radio sitting on her desk turned off for once and she hadn’t noticed. She was deep in her writing and staring offside at the crime board she once stowed away in Eugene’s hummer shed all those years ago per Enid’s request and disgust. 

The board now was covered in wolf sightings and any trace of Enid that Wednesday could follow. 

She usually listened to the portable radio on her desk to hear of any animal sightings in forests and woods near the likeness of supernaturals, but this day she had the radio off and was almost too late to follow a trail.

Thing had been the one to alert her, as he heard it from the radio of the hearse when he was travelling into town with Pugsley and Lurch. He had hurried back to the manor and burst into Wednesday’s room, flying through the doorway unceremoniously. 

Wednesday had been quick to abandon what she was up to before and ran out of the house in the direction where a clue began.

Lurch drove without any regard for speed limits and Thing clung to the head of the passenger seat, navigating the way to where Enid was spotted.

When she’s on land again, the hunters gathered around their trucks is what alerts Wednesday first. She’ll deal with them later; she just has to make sure this is a hoax and it is not Enid that’s been hunted in daylight.

It is barely the afternoon and Wednesday cannot let this be the end of her search.

She runs as fast as her stature allows her to, Thing hot on her trail, following right behind as quickly as an appendage goes.

The trees grow thicker the further she goes into the deep forest; dense leaves and sticks barely faze her as the adrenaline pumping through her keeps her moving.

She sees it up ahead, a figure in a pile of dried leaves and twigs. She inhales sharply, shortening her steps as she comes to a slow stop, mere steps away from the animal.

She collapses onto her knees and palms the damp grass, finally breathing deeply as she looks at the corpse on the forest floor.

Mountain lion.

Not Enid.

That's all that matters. 

“It’s not her.” Wednesday steels the tremor in her voice when she speaks to Thing, who is climbing onto her shoulder. “It’s not her,” she reassures herself. 

Thing taps her shoulder gently to ground Wednesday, who had felt panic like never before. If that was truly the final moment she would’ve been with Enid, then her life was not worth another breath without her wolf. 

The sun is setting by the time Wednesday makes it back out of the forest. She had been dragging her suddenly lethargic body out with slow steps, hauling her platformed combat boots through the moist forest mud, tracking sticks, grass, and leaves all over.

Lurch greeted her mutely, waiting like a tall tree and no words were exchanged between anyone as she sat silently in the back of the hearse, staring out of the window. Thing watched her forlornly like he has for the past five years, always tracking the stiff movements of Wednesday’s emotions bleeding onto her face. Her muscles didn’t move much but her eyes were always so dreadfully downturned and darkened, no longer holding the homicidal glare she once did as a child.

Thing worried for her and all the Addams did too.    

At which point does this obsession of finding Enid turn to madness?

🐦‍⬛

Wednesday didn’t speak for the rest of the day, moving around silently and even forgoing cello practice and her writing. She hadn’t written in ages. And the calluses from her cello have gone soft. Thing tapped around the wooden floorboards quietly, noticing the way Wednesday’s hands hadn’t stopped trembling since they left the forest. 

Dinner came and Wednesday reluctantly trudged out of her room, breathing shallowly to keep her so-called feelings in check.

“We didn’t see you all day, little viper. Where had you gone?” Gomez asks his eldest daughter.

Wednesday takes a moment, poking around the roadkill on her plate before raising her head to respond to her father.

“I followed a useless trail.” Wednesday replies, slightly clipped.

“Any dangers you faced?” Morticia asks softly. 

“No.” Wednesday answers despondently. 

Wednesday clenches her trembling fingers around the silver fork in her hand, sighing softly as she feels the unnecessary stares of her parents. They had been like this for a while, hovering quietly and asking such gentle questions like Wednesday was going to break. She wasn’t going to break and she did not have the intent of giving up on her investigation. She needed to find Enid; she was devoted to her research. Stopping when she’s gotten this far will end in nothing but failure and Wednesday Addams has never failed at anything in life.

“Pugsley, what have you been up to these days?” Gomez turns to his son, taking the attention off from Wednesday for a moment and she finds reprieve in the change of subject. 

“Oh, uh, Pubert’s been experimenting with potions he learned from Grandmama and I’ve been testing them for him.” Pugsley responds, chuckling lightly as his little brother perks up proudly. “So far it’s almost like drinking soda. Though my stomach does bubble with fire burps sometimes.” 

He’s a far tall man now, almost rivalling Lurch in height. His curls are no longer unruly and are slicked down with gel, like their father's. His voice is deep and his upper lip showed signs of a moustache and Wednesday would instruct Agnes to slice it off in his sleep because it was a disgraceful sight.

Pubert Addams, a sight Enid has never been able to see but Wednesday wishes so. Shortly after Enid’s disappearance, her mother fell pregnant and gave birth to her younger brother. He was a pale boy with slicked dark hair and a thin moustache on his upper lip. He resembled Morticia the most, though his expressions and jests were too similar to Gomez and he was their perfect little mix.

Wednesday, however, couldn’t attach herself to her brother when she was younger. He’s on the way to turning five soon, but when he was a baby and toddler, Wednesday felt no connection to him. She was too deeply invested in her chase for Enid that she couldn’t care about anything. She had been chastised a lot and monitored often after an incident of too many missed meals and hours of sleep forgone. 

She had been forced by hand to take a break and in those times she spent it with Pubert who giggled and smiled and Wednesday hated that it reminded her of how joyous Enid used to be.

Wednesday wonders how soon she can be graced with Enid’s incessant giggling that made her ears ring but she welcomed it nonetheless. 

She sometimes found it hard to recall Enid on some long nights, trying her best to write down each attribute of the girl she once knew. Her neat cursive writing became slurred words on parchment and her typewriting about recounts of Enid became repetitive.

She turned to painting and drawing in charcoal and one side of her room was almost dedicated to Enid like a shrine. She had Enid’s face plastered on the walls just so she could remember who Enid was. She herself hadn’t changed much but Wednesday wondered if these images she curated no longer resembled the girl who would’ve grown in the last five years.

The thought of not recognising Enid drew an unpleasant silver dagger deep into Wednesday’s heart.

Wednesday’s room was a mess. No longer kept untouched and dark like it had been when she was growing up. One half of the room had Enid’s belongings that Wednesday packed up from Enid’s room when there was no sign of the Sinclairs coming to gather their daughter’s belongings. They seemed to have accepted Enid’s renewed nature and were quick to erase her from the pack records and she then became a ghost of the Sinclairs. It made Wednesday unreasonably angry and she had come into contact with many parts of the Sinclair pack over the years, always leaving with blood on her hands because she couldn’t control the sort of rage that bubbled in her when she thought about how Enid was treated by the likes of these mutts. She didn’t know why it made fire scorch in her cold body and she didn’t understand why no wolf wanted to believe Enid was worth saving.

She just wanted to find Enid.

Morticia conversed with her two sons and husband at the dinner table, but her eyes fell onto her unusually sombre and silent daughter from time to time. She worried about Wednesday so much more now that she barely saw Wednesday because of how much time she dedicated to finding Enid. Of course the Addamses and she have incorporated their efforts in finding their colourful wolf but it was hard when Enid’s kind was rare and incredibly elusive.

Wednesday had frequent visions and always followed after them headfirst and it always threw her for a loop when she had no findings. She would sometimes come home covered in blood not her own, and sometimes she would be so battered that she collapsed just as she entered the manor.

Her Wednesday was driving herself to madness and Morticia’s heart bleeds knowing how much this is eating Wednesday up. She had seen her own sister be driven to madness and she could not watch and let this happen to her own daughter. 

She only hoped she was helping her daughter the best she could.

She wanted the sweet wolf, Enid, to return home too. 

To be continued ! 

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Chapter Text

It’s quiet in Wednesday’s room as she sits at her desk, a fountain pen in hand, scratching at the surface of a leather-bound journal. Beside her, journals stack up into a tall tower, each dated in the last five years.

It was an idea from Eugene because after the first year without Enid, it became glaringly clear that it was going to be a difficult path to find the werewolf. Months went by and the kids they used to be no longer existed. Instead, they were becoming adults and subsequently, school ended. In truth, childhood ended and Enid was missing out on so much.

Those weeks became months; those months became years, but every minute and every hour of a day that passed by without Wednesday’s knowledge—she had to live with the understanding that Enid, who loved to be included in everything possible, was missing out on important milestones of life.

So Wednesday began to write to her.

It began as recounts and then turned into letters. Sometimes there were poems, sonnets if she could, but most of all it was her heart and she hoped she was writing each memory to perfection for Enid to read when she returns home.

Thing had been kind enough to use communication means to retrieve stories from Enid’s other friends so that Wednesday could write about them too.

It was sweet, but Wednesday would rather be burnt at the stake than acknowledge that.

She closes the journal and places it neatly on top of the pile before leaving her desk to head to the investigation board set up in her room. She drags it near her desk and sits back down, pulling out a large clump of papers, notes, pages from books and printed images, all held together by clips.

The door to her room creaks open and Wednesday turns her head.

“Hello, Agnes.” Wednesday commands her presence.

Agnes appears from the top of her grown-out ginger bangs down to her almost hip-length hair. Her cheeks are thinner but more freckled than they were prior to Enid’s disappearance. She stands taller than Wednesday now and has grown into herself quite well. 

Wednesday’s eyebrow twitches, assessing Agnes’ outfit.

She’s wearing a pink sweater, something that belonged to Enid.

“Hello, Wednesday.” Agnes calls softly and Wednesday turns back to her findings.

“You need not investigate so deeply anymore, Agnes. You are in your final year at Nevermore.” Wednesday says monotonously. “You should be focusing on that.”

“You know I can’t when we’re so close to finding Enid.” Agnes shakes her head, stepping over to Wednesday, hovering.

Wednesday doesn’t respond and Agnes takes her time to look over at Wednesday’s new findings. She turns to the investigation board and tilts her head in intrigue when she finds a drawing of a large beast pinned to the centre of the board.

“What is that?” Agnes enquires.

“What does it look like?” Wednesday asks Agnes, allowing the younger girl to draw her own conclusion before she reveals her findings.

“It looks like…” Agnes tilts her head, looking at the old drawing pinned to Wednesday’s crime-solving board. “A wolf.” 

“La bête du Gévaudan,” Wednesday speaks, enunciating her French. “The beast of Gevaudan, an ancient French mystery. Sighted in the seventeen-hundreds, a mysterious creature called the Beast ravaged the rural region of Gévaudan, France. Hundreds of men, women and children reportedly fell victim to the beast. While many French at the time presumed the Beast to be a wolf, and many modern scholars agree, some have suggested that the Beast may not have been a wolf at all.”

“Werewolf,” Agnes utters and Wednesday nods in acknowledgement.

“A blood moon wolf, in fact. There is truth in the story written by normie historians, but in the fashion of outcasts, there’s always more to be said.” Wednesday reads out the research notes she took down aloud to Agnes. “The beast of Gevaudan was a man by the name of Claude Dubois. Not much was known of his early life prior to his beast transformation. What is known of him is that he was a soldier in the French Military and served during the Seven years’ war. On the run from British soldiers on a rainy night under a lunar eclipse, Claude had fallen in his attempt to flee and fallen into muddy ground, face-first into a puddle made from a wolf’s paw print. He had drunk the water accidentally and could not predict the turn of events after.” 

Wednesday flipped a page and began showing Agnes written sources and more of her own writing. 

“Dubois began having symptoms, showing signs of lycanthropy from accounts of his closest comrade, Marcel. Dubois became a monstrous werewolf tied to the night and took pleasure in violence, tearing apart any living thing that crossed his path. Then the legend of the beast of Gevaudan began to rise as Claude returned home from the war. A young boy was slaughtered, and many more so later on and the townspeople grew weary. Marcel became an accomplice, weathered with guilt and eventually told someone else of Claude’s dark shadow,” Wednesday says and Agnes eye’s widen at every new piece of information. 

“Who did Marcel tell?” Agnes asks eagerly.

Wednesday’s eyes flit up from her readings and she meets Agnes at eye level briefly—a strange emotion passes through Wednesday’s hickory eyes, but it is gone before Agnes can decipher it.

“A good friend of Marcel’s and Claude’s estranged lover, Marie-Jeanne Valet, otherwise known as the Maid of Gevaudan. She was an esteemed hunter and a poet who had a way with words.” Wednesday returns to her research. “The hunt for the beast was at large and Marie-Jeanne was one of many that hunted her lover all through forest regions of France between seventeen sixty-four and seventeen sixty-seven. It was three years later that Marie-Jeanne caught up to Claude and the man he was once before was long gone. A full towering beast that has shown no sign of humanity since the last time she saw him leaving home. She had been the one to slay him in the end.”

“How did she do it?” Agnes urges Wednesday to continue. 

Wednesday flips a page and shows a drawn image of a long metal structure, resembling a pike, forged from silver.

“The beast had killed hundreds by that point and Marie-Jeanne mourned the man she used to know. She drove that pike through his chest and the beast fought valiantly, but there was a way he returned to his human state,” Wednesday spoke. “The utterance of his name by his lover softened him into human flesh and he died in the arms of Marie-Jeanne. To ensure the beast could not die satisfied with the history of being remembered as the most vicious and feared werewolf in history. Marie-Jeanne and Marcel gave the beast and the remaining memory of Claude the punishment of Damnatio Memoriae. The condemnation of memory. Everything associated with Dubois and any evidence that suggested his existence was destroyed, discarding the true name of the Beast to forever be lost and unknown.” 

“He was erased…” Agnes gasps quietly. 

“Yes.” Wednesday is quiet too.

“What… What does this mean for Enid?” Agnes asks fearfully.

Before Wednesday began her research on the beast of Gevaudan after stumbling across a worn-out journal written in old French, tucked away in the Addams’ library, she had been researching archives about Alpha wolves, but there was always an insane lack of information or misinformation for that matter.

Many solutions written in books were about rituals tied to the blood moon and restraining the wolf, but how can a ritual like that work when Alpha wolves were notoriously difficult to catch, let alone tie down, due to their elusive nature and inclination to solitude?

Too much information was false and it was frustrating to Wednesday because nothing made sense. Approaching wolves about alpha wolves was also a futile attempt, as they all turned her away the moment she uttered the word 'alpha'. It was practically taboo and even threats and light maiming couldn’t help her, as everyone always said something different. She knew that music teacher, Isadora Capri, had an inkling about alpha wolves, but she disappeared right after Enid’s wolfing out, which led to, once again, another futile attempt of grappling at elusive answers. There was no use in locating her if she did not want to be found.

Elder wolves couldn’t assist her either, but she would not back down. When she discovered the true fate of the beast of Gevaudan, she devoted her time to researching the shadow wolf instead. The journal was a true testament to a historical beast with factual accounts about Claude’s alpha wolf nature, so this meant there was a way to bring Enid back unharmed without the need for a pike made of silver, the material that would kill any werewolf. 

“Nothing that will guarantee her demise despite callous attempts at erasing her existence.” Wednesday answers Agnes after a moment of thought, clenching her jaw as she levels her gaze with the younger girl. “Because Marcel and Marie-Jeanne left valuable information. There’s a way to get the beast back to their original human state. Someone close to them or in their pack with a strong enough emotional connection needs to call them by their name.”

Chapter Text

Dear Enid,

It will be exactly five years the following week since I was last tormented by your presence. I will reiterate that there is much that you’ve missed out on but I’ve been sure to recount everything to the best of my abilities. It’s a cold, sombre morning today that I find my mind drifting to the memories of you that I try to cling to. Me clinging? What a preposterous idea, right? But it’s you I cling to and I cannot help myself.

I try to remember everything I can of you and I will not use Thing as a scapegoat again because the truth is, I miss you, terribly so. The drawings and paintings I make of you do nothing but cement your appearance and remind me of your dreadful absence. I wish you back most morosely. 

On a lighter note, I seem closer to your trail, as my research has begun to find recounts of a real living alpha wolf. I trust you will see me soon, Enid. I believe I will find you and there’s no need to hope when I am confident I will find you. It is almost the time Pugsley and Agnes begin their year-end exams and consequently their high school journey and I forget if I mentioned it but Nevermore was back on its feet due to my family’s generous donation. Grandmama even temporarily took over principal duties at the start of the year, but it lasted for only a breath when grandmama decided to install an explosives class. It was not approved by the board, unfortunately. 

I will see you soon, Enid Sinclair, mark my words.

Unkind regards and most ardently,

Wednesday F. Addams.   

🐦‍⬛

“Wednesday.” Eugene blinks, pointing behind Pugsley.

“My sister?” Pugsley blinks in confusion before turning around. “Wednesday?”

Pugsley had been spending his senior break period in the courtyard with his friends—Eugene and his sort of friend, Agnes, when he spotted his sister storming in from the entrance, leaving smoke on her hot trail.

“No time to talk.” Wednesday barks out. “I need a Sinclair.”

“I know a Sinclair.” Agnes hurries to stop at Wednesday’s feet.

Wednesday slows her stride and comes to a stop as Agnes stares down at her with round, unblinking eyes. 

“He’s in our year.” Agnes smiles widely. “Shy boy.”

“Take me to him.” Wednesday huffs.

“Eep!” 

A knife whizzes past Eli’s ear by a small fraction and lands squarely in a tree trunk. His eyes widen and his immediate instinct is to run. He picks up speed in the Nevermore forest, running and weaving through trees, trudging over piles of sticks and leaves but he’s intercepted when he turns over his shoulder for a brief moment to see what is trying to hunt him. 

A body slams into him roughly and he rolls onto the forest floor but hops up quickly and then he finds himself pinned to a tree. 

Eli’s eyes widen and he bares his teeth, growling but he falters when he recognises who is trying to attack him. 

“You—you’re—”
“Wednesday Addams.” Wednesday glares at the boy. “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do!” Eli trembles.
“H-how do you know me?” Eli stammers.

“I know every Sinclair and their pesky attempts to eradicate Enid.” Wednesday clenches her jaw. 

Wednesday holds a knife to Eli’s throat and the boy doesn’t fight back but he studies the murderous girl for a moment and he eyes the way Wednesday’s grip on the weapon falters, a slight tremble in her fingers.

“I’ve never!” Eli scowls, eyes watering at the memory of his sister. “She wasn’t trying to kill us.” He says, believing in his sister.

There was a moment in time where Wednesday was close to catching Enid, but it had led her straight to Sinclair territory. She had borne witness to a brawl between Sinclair wolves and Enid’s alpha form and none came out of it uninjured, but it was clear that Enid wasn’t welcome to seek refuge from her own family.

“She should have done more than maim you pathetic dogs,” Wednesday spat with more emotion than Eli ever recalled the girl showing from the brief time they attended Nevermore together.

“You’re not the only one who has been looking for her. When we found her, I did everything I could to stop them from killing her.” Eli swallows bitterly. “I looked her right in the eyes. She's more beast than human but I know my sister. She… she's still in there.”

Wednesday releases the boy and steps back, tucking her knife away as she watches the boy sit on the forest floor, catching his breath.

She takes a moment to look at him and she feels something uncomfortable twist in her chest when she realises how much he resembles Enid when she was younger. This boy is shy of seventeen or eighteen and he is the youngest of Sinclairs and Wednesday recalls stories told by Enid, gushing about her little brother. He was much younger when Wednesday last saw him with Enid, and she didn’t meet him but she did recall him hiding behind Enid, much shorter than he is now.

He is quite tall now, but he curls in on himself like he’s scared to be himself. His hair is a lighter brown than his older brothers and Wednesday wonders if this colour is closer to Enid’s natural hair that she’s never seen.

Enid had told her in the past that she dyed her hair to be distinctive from her Sinclair pack and Wednesday always thought though the colours and brightness were disconcerting, it suited her. 

“I am here to collect you.” Wednesday regains her bearing.

“Me?” Eli stands up, pointing to himself.

“Yes. I have come across a theory in recalling Enid’s human self and I need a Sinclair to test it.” Wednesday informs him. “You are the only Sinclair willing and you are in a close enough radius to me. It also helps that… that you were close to Enid.”

“Not were,” he shakes his head, speaking with conviction. “Still. I am still close to my big sis.”
“Very well.” Wednesday nods. “It seems like your connection will be strong enough.” 

“Come.” Wednesday turns on her heels and begins walking as Eli scrambles after her.

“B-but what about class?!” 

🐦‍⬛

In hindsight, Wednesday should have thought about the process of removing Eli from classes and making him follow after her because she did not travel by car to Nevermore’s grounds and instead walked. Yesterday she had driven herself to Jericho from the Addams estate in one trip—subtracting many hours from the usual long trip with her expert driving, which violated every traffic rule in existence but she zoomed by scot-free.

She then rented out a cabin that was apparently difficult to house residents due to stories of ghosts, but Wednesday felt right at home in the humble abode. 

Trudging through the forest, a cabin comes into view and another face pops up as Eli screams.

“Agnes.” Wednesday greets without turning around. “I thought I told you to keep up with your studies.”

“This is more important. Exams don’t begin until three weeks.” Agnes argues, crossing her arms over her chest. “Plus, we don’t know if little Sinclair here will be of use.”

“I will be of use!” Eli declares, cheeks blushing red as his voice cracks. “And plus, we can be excused. Agnes and I are top of our classes.”
“Yes but it doesn’t mean you’ll do well in exams.” Wednesday sighs, unlocking the cabin door.

They enter the dark and drafty cabin and Wednesday heads over to the workstation she set up, which is the dinner table adjacent to the living room and kitchen, while Eli awkwardly stands by the door and Agnes takes her own liberty to explore the cabin.

Wednesday throws down a folder as thick as her first manuscript and looks at Eli pointedly.

“Read.” She says and Eli scrambles to sit at the table.

Agnes drifts over after adequately exploring and ignores Wednesday’s glare as she busies herself, grabbing the large map she’s familiar with and laying it over the remaining space on the table, subtly tidying up Wednesday’s unusual state of mess. 

“S-so I have to call her by her name?” Eli asks to be sure.

“I assume so, as recounted by Claude’s story.” Wednesday nods. 

“And how do we know that it will work?” Eli asks and Wednesday doesn’t reply.

A beat of silence moves past them as the young students look up with anticipation at an oddly pensive Wednesday. 

“We don’t.” She answers. “But we have to try.”
“That’s more than doing nothing.” Agnes nods.

“Eli, take a look at this map.” Wednesday instructs Eli. “These red circles marked are the places we’ve come across Enid over the past five years. Her most recent appearance was near my family estate in New Jersey but she quickly evaded when I came close again.”

“The pattern is that she never strays past where she’s familiar with.” Agnes chimes in.

“Precisely.” Wednesday nods as Eli looks over the map. “She has been spotted near the Tanaka’s estate, Canada and Saskatchewan, Sinclair territory—she’s roamed Northern California, San Francisco, and has circled Jericho multiple times.”

“Where will she be now?” Eli pipes up.

“Here.” 

Wednesday points straight down at Jericho—right dead centre of the forest.

“W-wait, but that’s here!” Eli's eyes widened.

“How do you know?” Agnes asks.

“She never strays far from home, like you said.” Wednesday nods. “I’m confident we will come across her this time. Agnes, I need you to set up traps around the perimeter with Thing.”
“On it!” Agnes scoops Thing off of where he was comfortably perched on the living room sofa and scurries out the door.

“How confident are you in your werewolf, Eli?” Wednesday turns to Eli, who flinches. 

“U-uh, confident enough?” Eli shrugs weakly.

“Not good enough. We will practise.” Wednesday hardens her expression. “She is due in a day by my calculations.”

“That soon?” Eli gasps.

“Yes. That soon.” She deadpans.

She stands up and heads over to the door, beckoning Eli over silently and he gets the memo.

It’s time to prepare for an alpha wolf’s arrival.

To be continued ! 

Quick link to everything everywhere all at once aka my socials (carrd website) !! 

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