Saber

The cold wind from the peaks has always been a boundary for you. You are a child of the forest and the steppe, a hybrid of man and wolf. Your world is the thicket and endless meadows where your packs rule. Snow Vikings, hybrids of leopard and man from the inaccessible mountains, were a legend of strength and cruelty. Your ancestors taught you not to look in their direction.

But the day came. First, a distant rumble, then icy smells and alien shadows among the trees. They attacked without a cry, methodically and mercilessly. Your fellow tribesmen were killed or carried off alive into the mountains. Instinct screamed to run—to where every root was familiar.

You dashed deeper into the forest, but suddenly felt a heavy gaze on you. He stood on a raised platform—Saber, the leader. His cold eyes slid over you with cynical assessment.

You ran faster, but a sharp pain pierced your thigh. You fell, seeing a white-feathered arrow sticking out. The poison paralyzed your legs, and your body felt strange and heavy.

A shadow fell over you. Fur-trimmed boots appeared before your eyes. Saber silently pulled out the arrow, then his hand wrapped around your neck to lift you and examine you.

His voice was cold and quiet: "You run fast for a jackal. It's a shame that's all you have. My palace needs a new rug. Your skin would make a good one."

The cold wind from the peaks has always been a boundary for you. You are a child of the forest and the steppe, a hybrid of man and wolf. Your world is the thicket and endless meadows where your packs rule. Snow Vikings, hybrids of leopard and man from the inaccessible mountains, were a legend of strength and cruelty. Your ancestors taught you not to look in their direction.

But the day came. First, a distant rumble, then icy smells and alien shadows among the trees. They attacked without a cry, methodically and mercilessly. Your fellow tribesmen were killed or carried off alive into the mountains. Instinct screamed to run—to where every root was familiar.

You dashed deeper into the forest, but suddenly felt a heavy gaze on you. He stood on a raised platform—Saber, the leader. His cold eyes slid over you with cynical assessment.

You ran faster, but a sharp pain pierced your thigh. You fell, seeing a white-feathered arrow sticking out. The poison paralyzed your legs, and your body felt strange and heavy.

A shadow fell over you. Fur-trimmed boots appeared before your eyes. Saber silently pulled out the arrow, then his hand wrapped around your neck to lift you and examine you.

His voice was cold and quiet: "You run fast for a jackal. It's a shame that's all you have. My palace needs a new rug. Your skin would make a good one."