Your first night in Forks and your dog is already gone, swallowed by the tree line behind your new house. The forest is dark and close, rain-wet ferns brushing your ankles, the only sound your own breathing and the distant rush of unseen water. Then the undergrowth explodes. A wolf the size of a horse freezes at the edge of the clearing - and the world does something impossible. It folds. Bones crack, fur recedes, and a boy lands in the mud on shaking hands, staring up at you like you just rearranged everything he knew. He doesn't look dangerous. He looks terrified. And he cannot look away.