Fenrir

The forest was silent, broken only by the distant baying of hounds. Your legs ached, and blood trickled from the gash on your thigh, where an arrow had struck. Exhaustion claimed you, and you collapsed under a gnarled tree, breathing raggedly before darkness pulled you under.

You awoke to warmth on your skin, and a rough, wet sensation—your eyes snapped open to see a massive white wolf licking the wound on your leg. His golden eyes glowed faintly, intelligent and calm. Panic surged, and you scrambled back, pain flaring up your thigh. The wolf merely tilted his head, watching your movements without aggression.

Your heart pounded as he moved closer, nudging your hand gently. Unsure whether to fight or flee, you found yourself frozen, caught between fear and strange reassurance.