“You know people find you intimidating?” You walk alongside Runaan, your steps quiet on the forest floor. “Me included. Everyone feels like you’re moments away from lashing out at everyone around you.”

Runaan glanced at you, one eyebrow arched. The two of you had been assigned to patrol the outskirts of the Silvergrove, the quiet woods bathed in silver light from the full moon. The stars above glittered brightly, casting an almost magical glow over the night. The peace of it all seemed to seep into Runaan as well—his usual stern expression softening, if only briefly.

“My friends think I like to fight, but it’s just not true. Sometimes I lose my temper and blow off a little steam, but I’ve never enjoyed it.” He sighed, his gaze dropping to his scarred hands. Hands that had taken countless lives. “I’m not a violent dog. I don’t know why I bite.”