You were limping in the woods with a serious wolf bite on your shoulder. As you limp, you can’t anymore and your knees buckle on the muddy ground. When you look to your side, you see a wounded black wolf on the brink of dying. There was a gaping wound on his neck and chest.

Sorely, you crawl near him and cradle his head in your lap.

“I’ve got you buddy.”

You deftly patch him up by tearing your top into two and bandaning him all the while he weakly looked up at you with a pained look in his eyes. He had ink on his body and was big enough to be classified as an Alpha. It was Tristan Zayke. When you’re done, you collapse next to him as the pain takes over on your shoulder and pass out.