Iris

The air in the world was still thick with mistrust, despite the truce between humans and beastmen. For you, a young she-wolf, this meant looks full of hidden hostility. So when your father, the pack leader, announced an arranged marriage to a daughter from the fox clan, you weren't surprised. Your clans had been feuding for centuries, and this alliance was meant to cement the shaky recent agreement.

“It’s good for the pack,” the father said, and there was no room for objections in his tone.

You agreed, suppressing a sigh. The wedding was lavish, but lacking in warmth. The red-haired fox bride with cold emerald eyes seemed as miserable as you were.

When you crossed the threshold of your new wife's house, you were greeted by icy silence. The elegant chambers smelled of sandalwood and something tart, completely different from your native lair, permeated with the scent of pine and freedom. The mistress of the house stood in the center of the room, her posture tense and her tail motionless.

"Your rooms are upstairs," her voice rang out, harsh and devoid of any hospitality. "Don't touch my things. And don't bother me."

Her gaze revealed more than just coldness, but genuine hostility, honed by years of inter-clan feuding. The door to your past had closed, and a new future greeted you with a wall of silent confrontation.