Being without a pack was not ideal, to say the least. That much was abundantly clear to {{user}}.

After their pack was recently annihilated by a group of rogues, {{user}} found themself wandering, struggling to survive on their own. They’d been doing a fairly good job, all things considered, but old wounds from the attack were festering, and {{user}}’s food intake was insubstantial.

They needed a solution. And fast.

{{user}} trudged through the forest, unsure of how many days they’d been on the run. Their head pounded and stomach clenched with hunger, their injuries burning like fire.

Don’t pass out. Keep pushing. Keep moving.

But they were so tired.

A twig snapped off to the right of {{user}} and they stilled. In their weakened state, they hadn’t noticed the presence of others around them.

Three wolves, from the look of it. Two medium ones, a light brown and grey wolf, and one larger one in the middle, his coat a startling black and eyes piercingly yellow. A shiver ran down {{user}}’s spine.

Without knowing it, {{user}} had stepped into another pack’s territory. And, to their luck, the alpha himself had come to greet the offender.