The house smelled like potpourri and basil, just like he remembered. The kitchen table remained as meticulously white as it had been when his mother bought it during his teenage years. On the walls were a series of family photos and small cross-stitched canvases bearing inspirational quotes and floral designs his mother had crafted.

She sat across from him, leaning over her excessively whitened coffee wearing a sly smile. Miles knew that smile well. It was the one that inevitably crept across her face when she was right about something.

He supposed she had reason to be smug. She’d warned him about Quinn years ago. She’d told him she could recognize her type. She was the sort of girl who lived for fun, wouldn't choose to settle down and wouldn’t think twice about cheating. With Miles’ regimented and dutiful lifestyle, it was a toxic mix.

Miles had ignored his mother’s warnings, of course. Quinn stoked his passions, made him feel like he was the only one for her… at least while he was around.

“Fine, mom,” Miles conceded. “You were right.”

She wore a look of faux offense. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You don’t have to. I know your expressions as well as you know Dad’s.”

“Honey, everything will be fine,” she reassured him while leaning across the table. “Take it as a learning experience. Just because she has a pretty face doesn’t mean she has a pretty heart.”

And Quinn did have a pretty face. And pretty hair, and pretty legs and a pretty butt too. He’d met her at a graduation celebration after he’d gotten his degree. She was the older sister of one of the alumni and a year younger than him. Fit, blonde, and the type of girl who knew how to use her looks and bubbly personality to get what she wanted. At the time, she wanted Miles, and Miles was perfectly okay with that.

Miles knew deep down the relationship would never be as serious as he would have liked, but he remained blind to it. He still held hope that she might have settled down with him.

Of course, she’d been cheating on him almost the entire three years they’d been together. Miles had been too distracted by his burgeoning military career to truly think it through.

It wasn’t that he didn’t notice. He saw the signs, but he chose to ignore them and focus on his work. Thinking back, he realized the chemistry they’d had was more artificial than he had considered at the time.

But he’d still asked her to marry him, to which the answer was a firm and combative no. That’s not what hurt so much, really. It was more the condescending way she talked to him afterward. She treated him like a teenager with a crush instead of a thirty year old man who had been together with her for three years.

I view you more like a best friend than a lover right now, she’d said. I’m just not the one for you.

He’d specifically requested leave to propose to her in Montreal. He’d planned a huge day, spent several thousands of dollars to make sure everything went right.

Then, to add insult to injury, she asked if she could keep the ring. Miles may have been naive, but he wasn’t stupid. It went back to the jeweler’s.

The encounter spurred Miles to do something he hadn’t done since before his graduation. He called his mom just to talk. The next morning, he was on a plane to Victoria to ride out the rest of his leave with his family, whom he hadn’t seen in some time.

“Listen to your mom, Miles! She was a bitch!” called his father’s voice from the living room.

“Oh that’s not helpful, David!” his mother exclaimed. She turned back to Miles. “Look, we’re just happy to see you. So how was Colombia? Did you catch any drug kingpins?”

“I don’t do that, mom. I’m a translator,” Miles said.

“Well did you interrogate any drug kingpins?”

Miles laughed. “I don’t do that either mom. I’m not a soldier, I spend most of my time listening to telecom–” He knew no matter how many times he would explain what it was he did, she’d only eventually replace it with what she fantasized him doing. “I’m with the cook more often than I am with bad guys.”

“Yes, but you make it sound so cool!”

“He’s not a soldier, Honey! He’s a translator!” his father’s voice called again from around the corner.

“We’ve covered that already dad!” Miles said. “Thanks!”

“Any time,” he responded earnestly.

Since he’d been promoted to Lieutenant, he’d been attached to Operation Carribe, the Canadian support regiment for the US-led Operation Martillo. His mother had concocted a strange image of him in her head where he was a dashing action hero in the coca fields of Colombia. The reality was that he sat in an office and translated what he’d heard on recordings. His field work mostly consisted of making supply runs for paper and toner for the printer.

Which wasn’t to say he was useless. Rather, Miles was recognized for his ability to translate codes used by the cartels and had several commendations on his record. His work had led to the capture of several high profile targets within the cartels as well as the recovery of numerous assets.

Prior to that he was working with Operation Artemis, a counter-terrorism unit in the Arabian sea, but after being promoted, he was moved to Central America. In his circles, they called him Click. So named because he had learned to speak conversational Sandawe, one of the Khoisan clicking languages, in less than a week.

From a young age, Miles was fascinated with language. By the time he was five he could speak French-Canadian as well as he spoke English. By the time he was ten he was fluent in Cosmopolitan French and Spanish. In high school he added Punjabi, Farsi and Cantonese to the list.

Learning new languages became easier as he built more social connections. He always made a point to make friends with international students and expatriots while he was in school.

Languages were his strength. Certainly he’d been trained to shoot, but as a Naval Officer, it was unlikely he’d ever find himself in a position where he would be forced to defend himself.

“So what are the girls up to?”

“Well Miranda and Daniel are buying a house up in Ladysmith. Ivy’s in Scouts now, and Milo’s playing video games on the internet,” she explained.

“He’s gaming on YouTube. Fortcraft or something!” his dad added.

“Right, and Marissa…” his mother sighed. “Is still Marissa. Trying her best. Seeing a new guy, he seems… nice. You know your sister. Marissa’s taste in men hasn’t exactly been–”

“Holy shit!” his dad exclaimed from the next room. “Hey… hey you better come see this!”

Miles looked to his mother and their gaze met briefly before they stood in unison and walked into the living room. His father was leaning forward in his recliner staring intently at his prized fifty-two-inch flatscreen television. He hastily turned up the volume.

Miles watched the screen, trying to make out what he was seeing– it looked like timelapse footage of a tree growing, but something about it didn’t sit right with him. The camera shook violently, and the overlay at the bottom of the image announced it was a live broadcast.

“They saw some light, caught it on camera for just a second then there was this god awful noise and now…” His dad trailed off, but gestured toward the TV as if it was self-evident.

“Is this a show?” his mother asked.

“It’s TTV,” his dad said. “They were interviewing the guy who brews that beer I like, then…” He repeated his previous gesture.

“Faye, can you tell us what you’re seeing?” a smooth woman’s voice spoke over the footage. Miles recognized it instantly; it was Alice South, one of the news anchors with TTV News. His dad had been watching her for years. All he could hear on the other side of the broadcast were people scrambling and yelling. “Faye?” Alice repeated.

“I’m sorry, Alice I’ve never seen anything like this,” came another voice. The camera swung toward a young Asian woman looking somewhat panicked and stammering into her microphone. “I… I’m awestruck. A.. a tree is growing out of the asphalt on Cliveden Avenue. It’s… it’s growing impossibly fast.”

“Cliveden Avenue? That’s out on Annacis Island, isn’t it?” Miles asked.

“Yeah, North Delta,” his father corrected. “Just over the Alex Fraser.”

“A tree, you said?” Alice asked the reporter.

It took Miles a moment to realize exactly what he was seeing. It was definitely a tree. It just didn’t behave like one. It wasn’t time-lapse, it was real-time. It already looked like a hundred year old oak, and it had only been growing, as far as he could tell, for about thirty seconds. His mind cast doubts that it was real.

Once the tree started to slow its growth, the shaky camera grew more steady. The camera’s operator zoomed into the trunk, which was suddenly appearing to invert into itself. It formed a deep depression and Miles’ jaw dropped when he first noticed it began to shimmer.

“What the actual Hell?” Miles asked.

“That’s all CG,” his father insisted. “Trying to make a viral video or something to sell beer. There’s gotta be a punchline, just watch.”

“I would like to take this moment to reassure our viewers that– from what we can tell– what you’re seeing is actually occurring on Annacis Island in North Delta, British Columbia. We cannot confirm whether or not this is a stunt of some kind, but…” she suddenly trailed off when a strange ripple spread across the surface of the shimmer.

Miles sat down in disbelief next to his father. Suddenly, something burst forth from the tree. Something big. Something with four legs. A wolf? If it was a wolf, it was massive. Something was on its back.

No, not something. Someone. There was a man riding on its back, as though it were a horse. The wolf had been fitted with a saddle and a leather headstall. It had reins and a bit in its mouth.

The wolf and it’s rider stepped out a few feet from the shimmer, then paused, surveying the area. From behind it, two more emerged from the tree. Then a fourth.

Then a fifth. Miles felt a hollow pit forming in his stomach.

“Jesus, they need to get away from there,” Miles said softly.

Without warning, the first three wolves took off at a run. The camera clumsily followed them as they bore down on two people scrambling to get back into their car. Miles watched as the first wolf leapt and caught the man in its jaws, shook him violently, and then tossed the body up into the air while a second wolf did the same to another. Blood-curdling screams began to erupt from the television.

The live feed suddenly cut over to Alice South. She stared at the camera, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. On the displays behind her the feed continued for a moment before the screen went dark.

“That wasn’t real,” his mother insisted. “Right? That’s not real. Can’t be.”

“Uhh… I must apologise to our viewers regarding what we just witnessed,” Alice said, regaining her composure. “We are still receiving a live feed from our production crew, but considering the-- ah-- subject matter. I’m sorry.” She leaned to one side, speaking to someone off-camera. “I don’t care, we need to air this,” she argued. “Put it back up. Call them right now.”

Miles couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His mind nagged at him to consider any option other than what he was witnessing. Publicity stunt. Movie shoot. A hologram or other illusion– they brought Tupac back, after all. But the urgent manner with which it was being treated by those in the studio felt too real.

He recapped the events. A tree had grown. And giant wolves had emerged from it complete with riders.

No, not giant wolves. He’d seen fantasy movies. Direwolves.

And the men riding them appeared to be wearing half-plate armor.

After a few moments, the feed returned. The cameraman and his crew, to their credit, had retreated to the interior of a building and were keeping the camera trained on the events unfolding outside. More Direwolves and people that appeared to be armed with bows and arrows were coming out of the tree. They took a moment to regroup once they’d emerged, and then fanned out, staying behind the wolves.

Then they started loosing arrows at the people running from them.

The camera suddenly shifted over toward one of the wolves violently shaking some poor soul in its jaws. Out of nowhere, a forklift veered rapidly from outside the frame and slammed into the wolf with enough force to impale it with its forks. The rider was knocked to the ground. As the wolf yelped in pain, the forklift operator hopped out and started to run toward the camera crew inside the lobby of the building. The wolf’s rider was quick, though, and got back up to his feet, chasing the driver down. He then ran him through with a sword just outside the lobby.

This was real. Whatever was going on on the other side of the screen was real. He’d seen movie deaths before. This wasn’t one of them. He’d translated several videos of beheadings while on Operation Artemis. He’d seen people die on camera before.

That poor forklift operator had been unceremoniously run through with as much callousness as someone swatting a fly.

And the soldier who did it then looked through the window where the camera crew cowered, took the butt of his sword--

--and shattered it.

The feed went dead.

“What happened?” Alice South asked. “Where’s the feed?” She remained silent for a moment. “What do you mean it’s gone, they--” She turned to face the camera again.

“Again I must apologise for what you just witnessed. We… we don’t really understand what’s going on, but to all viewers, I encourage you to stay away from the scene until the authorities have confirmed what’s happening. We will continue to follow this story when we come back from commercial break, so please stay tuned.”

The screen went black for a few moments, then the happy jingle of a Coca-Cola ad started to play. Miles and his parents sat in stunned silence.

“You know,” his mother declared, breaking the silence. “I’m not so sure that’s a stunt.”

Both Miles and his father could only stare at her.