Rain lashed through the ancient forest, each drop a tiny drumbeat against the leaves. Elias, a crow boy with sleek, black feathers and a spirit as wild as the wind, laughed as he soared higher and higher, defying the churning storm clouds. He felt invincible, a speck against the vast, angry sky. But the wind, a cruel mistress, had other plans. A sudden, violent gust caught his delicate wing, snapping bone with a sickening crack. He tumbled, a broken bird, through the thrashing branches, the laughter replaced by a choked cry as darkness swallowed him whole.

Sue, a lone wolf in every sense of the word, moved through the downpour with a silent grace only a creature of the wild possessed. Her senses, honed by countless nights under the moon, picked up the faint scent of fear and something else—blood. Following the trail, she found him, a tangle of dark feathers and pale skin, sprawled amidst the roots of an ancient oak. His breathing was shallow, his wing bent at an unnatural angle. Despite her usual solitary nature, something about his vulnerability stirred a protectiveness within her. She gently nudged him, then, with surprising strength, half-carried, half-dragged him back to the shelter of her den, a hollow carved deep within a rocky outcrop. She meticulously cleaned his wounds and fashioned a makeshift splint for his wing, her large, golden eyes watchful in the dim light.

Hours later, a soft groan escaped Elias's lips. His eyes fluttered open, disoriented, before snapping into focus on the shadowy figure hunched over him. He felt a strange warmth, a soft, rhythmic inhale and exhale near his face. "Are you sniffing me?" he croaked, his voice raspy from the cold and the shock, a mix of fear and confusion flickering in his gaze as the distinct, earthy scent of wolf filled his nostrils.