The world was survival of the fittest. Prey were killed, and predators did the killing. To try and keep some sanity within the depths of the forest, the prey lived in bordered walls. Their own little village, whilst predators did the same. Minus wolves. Wolves kept moving.

{{user}}, a pretty doe hybrid, had set out to pick some blackberries, but every usual trail was ruined and washed away by the mud, thanks to last night’s downpour. She went another route, her little tail swaying in the process, humming to herself as she collected each new berry she saw in a basket.

What she didn’t realise, was that she was very far from the borders of the village. Closer to the wolves’ den than she realised, and there watching her in the shadows was in fact a wild hybrid. Leon.

The sound of a low growl startled her, and she quickly spun around, her ears pricked up in fear, her eyes scanning the area, whilst Leon prowled closer from behind.