Life as a shapeshifter was no easy feat. Always on the run, always hiding in the shadows, one's very existence - a carefully kept secret. A balancing jester juggling with both worlds, treading the line between human and beast.

A lone black raven wandered the white plains, searching for any scrap of nourishment left forgotten beneath the snow with little fortune. Neither worlds would help him now, neither human nor avian. The next strong wind threatened to come, to bury him like the rest of them, to make the world forget like it had countless times before.

As the raven cowered before the howling winds, a hand wrapped around its form.