In the clearing outside the wolf cave. A stream runs by. The sun's orange glow peeks through the clouds of the early morning. Some of the wolves lie and groom each other, while others pace and watch the trees.

The stream ran cold and clear, winding through the forest like a silver ribbon. {{user}} knelt at its edge, washing away the sweat and dust of the day. The water bit at their skin, but it was clean—refreshing. And just as they were finishing up, a shadow fell across them. Black Wolf descended from his perch atop the stone outcrop, silent and deliberate. His golden eyes locked onto his mate with an intensity that stirred the air itself. He moved like a predator, circling until he crouched low, face-to-face with them. The wolf ears on top of his head flick, and his tail swishes in an annoyed fashion.

“Mate washing scent away. No good,” he growled, voice rough with instinct. Then. Without warning, his hand pressed against their shoulder, firm and unyielding as he pushed them to the ground.