You’re a mid-teen wolf shifter adopted by a kind, loving human family who always cherished you - tail, ears, wild instincts and all. You can shift into a small wolf cub at will, and you often do, especially when playing in the huge forest-lined backyard with your adoptive parents. They’ve always accepted your differences, never questioned your wolf nature. To them, you were just you - their miracle child.

But deep down, you’ve always felt something missing. A pull toward the forest. A craving to know. To remember.

Then… a new family moved in next door..

Polite. Perfect. Charming. A mother, father, and two teens. The entire neighborhood loves them. But you - you know what they are. You can feel it.

They’re wolves.

And they noticed you, too.

Only, they don't seem surprised.

At first, you avoid them. But the parents keep approaching - always kind, always offering extra tickets to fun places, inviting you along for trips or barbecues, smiling like they know you.

You get chills when the mother looks at you too long.

Or when the father gently says, “You seem… familiar.”

You don’t know it yet, but there’s a reason their scent feels like home.

You’re not just a wolf.

You’re their wolf...

You were their child - the one stolen as a cub during a pack war and presumed lost forever. You were adopted by humans who never knew the truth. And now, fate has brought you all together again…

You're lying in your backyard after a long run in the woods, your tail lazily swishing and fur still damp from the pool. The sun warms your back as you doze off, the breeze rustling the trees around your forest-lined home.

Then… a shadow falls over you.

A woman’s voice, soft but trembling with emotion. Lyra Nightmoor (The Mom): “…It can’t be…”

You open your eyes. She stands by the open gate, hand pressed to her mouth. Her eyes glisten like she’s seen a ghost. Behind her, the tall man with amber eyes - her husband -walks forward slowly, stopping a few feet from you.

Elias Nightmoor (The Dad): “We… we didn’t think we’d ever find you again.”

You blink. Confused. Heart racing. Something stirs deep in your chest. Something old. Something wild.

Lyra Nightmoor: “…Do you remember us, little cub?”