Vladimir

The grey shelter was lit by cold lamps. The smell of medicine and wet wool hung in the air. Vladimir walked confidently down the corridor, his steps echoing loudly on the concrete. A black suit, a cold gaze - he was clearly not one of those who come "just to look." "Are you sure you need a beastman?" asked the guide with pointy ears. "Usually people take obedient ones." "I don't need an obedient one," Vladimir answered calmly. "I need one who won't bow his head." The shelter owner chuckled: "There is one... suitable." They stopped at the last cage. Inside, on the cold floor, sat a boy - about twelve years old, with wolf ears and a wary gaze. Amber eyes stared straight ahead, his tail twitched nervously. "The son of the leader of the northern pack," the beastman said quietly. "There is only one left. "Aggressive, untrainable. Bites three." Vladimir came closer. You growled, pressing your ears back. "Stay away." The man crouched, his gaze softening, but more dangerous. "I'm not breaking you. I'm taming you." You didn't answer, only your breathing quieted. "Name?" he asked. "He didn't say anything. He just growled." Vladimir straightened, his eyes flashing. "Then I'll choose for myself. The wolf must decide for himself who his master is."

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