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The sun filtered through the leafy canopy overhead, casting dappled patterns on the pavement of Seabrook Forest Park. A light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, pine, and… werewolf sweat.
“Wynter,” Willa said, arms crossed and a scowl on her face, “this isn’t a survival skill. This is a death wish.”
“It’s just riding a bike,” Addison said brightly, adjusting her ponytail. “People in Seabrook do it all the time!”
“Exactly,” Wynter muttered, one foot on the pedal of a shiny turquoise cruiser. “We’re not people in Seabrook. I’m a werewolf. We run, we leap, we maul. We do not balance on tiny wheels of doom.”
Wyatt gave her a lopsided smile, his arms folded as he leaned against a nearby tree. “It’s not that bad. I learned to ride when I was six. Willa too.”
“Yeah,” Willa growled, “after we fell a dozen times. I still have a scar on my elbow shaped like a pinecone.”
“Bikes are totally safe,” Eliza said, tapping the handlebars with a screwdriver. Her voice was cool, confident. “I’ve installed a stabilizer chip on this model. The balance is locked in until it hits seven miles per hour. Wynter can’t even tip over at low speed.”
“You put tech on it?” Willa asked, suddenly alarmed.
“Don’t worry,” Eliza said with a mischievous grin. “Failsafe on, override enabled, and I left the speed governor at default.”
Addison smiled at the group. “See? It’s totally safe. I’ll even hold on to her while she rides.”
Wyatt nodded slowly, concern still evident in his eyes. He turned to Wynter. “Just... if you feel uncomfortable, tell us. There’s no pressure.”
Wynter exhaled deeply and adjusted her helmet, silver streaks of hair poking out from under it. “Alright. One try. But if I crash into a tree, I’m haunting all of you.”
“You already look like a ghost with that helmet on,” Eliza teased.
“Alright,” Addison said, crouching to steady the back of the bike. “Just start pedaling when I say go.”
“Wait, wait—how do I stop?” Wynter asked, glancing down at the handlebars.
“Oh, easy,” Addison said with a smile. “There are hand brakes. You just squeeze both—”
Too late.
Addison pushed off instinctively, giving the bike just enough momentum to glide forward.
“I’m doing it!” Wynter shouted, legs pumping awkwardly but effectively. “I’m—wait. Wait. I’M DOING IT!”
“You’re riding!” Addison cheered.
“I’M RIDING!”
“Great job!” Eliza added, filming from her wrist-cam.
“I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STOP!” Wynter screamed.
Addison’s face fell. “Wait—what?”
Wynter's eyes widened as her hands fumbled the handlebars. “WHICH ONE IS THE BRAKE?!”
“They’re both brakes! Either one! Just squeeze!”
Wynter squeezed the left—too hard—and the bike veered sideways. A squirrel dodged with a squeak. She swerved again, overcorrecting.
And then—she was gone.
Down the hill, across the park path, through the gap in the hedges.
Straight into downtown Seabrook.
“Did that just happen?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide.
“I—I thought she knew how to brake!” Addison gasped.
“WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT?” Willa shouted, already sprinting toward her own bike.
“Because she didn’t say she didn’t!”
Eliza sighed, slipping on her helmet. “She probably panicked. Which means her instincts are driving now. Not great for a werewolf on wheels.”
“I knew this was a bad idea!” Willa growled, mounting her matte-black trail bike. “She’s not ready!”
“We’ll catch her,” Eliza said calmly, activating the stabilizers on her hover-bike. “And she’s safer than she looks. She’s got fast reflexes and a reinforced helmet. I double-checked the tech. The bike won’t let her go over 15 mph.”
Wyatt was already pedaling. “Still fast enough to fly off a curb and into traffic!”
“I KNOW!” Addison shouted, hopping on her glittery white cruiser. “Let’s go! Wynter needs us!”
They took off in a blur—Eliza in the lead with her GPS tracker active, Addison following the tire marks on the sidewalk, and the twins taking the outside lanes to cut corners and navigate traffic.
Wynter zoomed through the town square, shrieking and howling in equal parts. “WHY ARE THERE SO MANY PEDESTRIANS?!”
People dove out of the way as she narrowly avoided a mime, two balloon artists, and an unsuspecting marching band.
She careened past a hot dog stand, clipped the edge of a fruit cart, and was rewarded with a KA-THUNK as apples flew skyward like fireworks.
“I CAN’T STEER STRAIGHT!” she cried. “THE BIKE IS POSSESSED!”
Somewhere behind her, Eliza’s voice came through a tiny speaker on the stabilizer chip. “It’s not possessed. You’re going too fast for the gyros to help. Just squeeze the brakes!”
“I’M TRYING!”
“Both hands! At the same time!”
“SOMEBODY CATCH ME!!”
Addison pedaled like her life depended on it, hair streaming behind her like a comet tail. “She’s heading toward the construction zone!”
“Split up!” Wyatt called. “I’ll go around by the library!”
“I’ll cut through the fountain plaza!” Willa said, jumping a curb with a snarl.
Eliza activated her drone mode, launching her hover-bike several inches off the ground for smoother navigation. “I’ve locked onto her signal. She’s veering south!”
Addison weaved between pedestrians. “How is she still going?!”
“Fear-fueled momentum,” Eliza answered. “Plus, she’s been doing werewolf cardio since age five.”
Addison groaned. “She’s going to bike to the next town at this rate!”
Finally, near Seabrook’s riverside walking trail, Wynter’s bike hit a bump—hard—and she flew forward, landing in a hedge of honeysuckle.
“OOF!”
The bike rolled to a stop. She didn’t.
Seconds later, four bikes screeched to a halt.
“Wynter!” Addison shouted, leaping off her cruiser.
“I see her!” Wyatt called, pulling aside branches.
Wynter groaned from within the bushes, her helmet slightly askew and a flower stuck in her teeth. “Tell my pack I died with honor.”
“You’re not dead,” Eliza said dryly, scanning her with a bio-monitor. “You have a few grass stains, one bruised ego, and a cracked stabilizer chip. Otherwise, you’re good.”
Willa knelt beside her, eyes filled with worry she rarely showed. “You scared the fur off me.”
Wynter sat up slowly, brushing leaves from her hoodie. “I’m okay. I think.”
Wyatt offered her a bottle of water and a grin. “Honestly? You made it farther than I expected.”
Wynter blinked. “I did?”
“You flew over two curbs, dodged a mime, and took out a fruit stand,” Addison said, beaming. “That’s practically Olympic material.”
“I did not dodge the mime,” Wynter said, shuddering. “He jumped into a trash can. Pretty sure he’s still in there.”
They all laughed, even Willa—though hers was more of a huff than a giggle.
Addison put an arm around Wynter’s shoulders. “Next time, we start with the brakes.”
“Next time?” Willa growled.
“I’m riding again,” Wynter declared, standing up proudly. “That was kind of… awesome.”
Eliza looked surprised. “You liked it?”
“It was terrifying,” Wynter admitted. “But I didn’t crash until the end. I survived. And I kinda want to win next time.”
Willa rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine. But I’m teaching you how to stop first.”
“And maybe,” Wyatt added, “we’ll ask what you already know before pushing off?”
Addison blushed. “Noted.”
Back at the park, the friends had set up a training circle again—only this time, it included cones with signs labeled “Brake Zone,” “Turn Here,” and “Don’t Panic.”
Wynter mounted her bike again, this time grinning with her hands already on the brakes.
Eliza handed her a new helmet—this one with tiny wolf ears glued on top.
Addison fastened it for her. “For style.”
Wyatt gave a thumbs-up. “For the pack.”
Willa patted her shoulder. “For survival.”
Wynter took a deep breath and pedaled.
She glided forward, controlled, steady.
She squeezed the brakes gently—and stopped.
The others cheered.
And for once, the only chaos in Seabrook… was the sound of shared laughter.