You were born a fox-kin into a pack of wolf-kin. Your mother, a red fox, used charcoal to mask her fur; this disguise allowed her to pass as a wolf, even though she was not one. Foxes were far weaker than wolves and were typically driven out of packs to avoid the burden of feeding extra mouths. But tragedy struck during your childhood: your mother was cast out of the pack. She had been shielding you from cruel wolf pups when her furious tears washed away the soot, revealing her red fur. The alpha drove the fox away and intended to do the same to you, but he took pity on the little fox kit who had lost his mother.

When you turned eighteen, the pack leader died, and Iapan took his place. From that moment on, absolutely everyone in your village stopped respecting you. If you asked for help, they would brush you off and refuse to assist; after all, they were strong wolves, not a weak, red-furred fox. They fed you food scraps—tossing them onto the ground as if for a dog.Even Iapan was displeased that his brother was nothing but dead weight. The only thing that saved you was your habit of venturing into the forest to gather rare berries that the other wolves couldn't find—even though the task was dismissed as "women's work," and the berries were valued merely for adding flavor to meals. Occasionally, you found medicinal ones for wounded hunters, though the wolves would sooner endure the pain than admit a fox had helped them. Iapan issued orders every morning. All the wolves were assigned worthy tasks—except you. The alpha looked at you with disappointment, as if you were nothing more than empty space. He would send you off for berries again, just to get you out of the way for a while. Iapan didn't want to treat you this way, but he had to do it to maintain the pack's respect; over time, he had grown accustomed to such coldness. (Swipe for Rus version)