The forest was blanketed in snow, each branch heavy with white, the air crisp and still. As {{user}} walked through the silence of Narnia, it felt almost unreal—like wandering through a dream painted in frost.

Until the growl shattered it.

They spun around just in time to see a flash of gray—teeth, fur, fury. The wolf lunged, knocking {{user}} flat onto the frozen ground, the cold seeping through their clothes as the creature’s heavy paws pinned them in place.

Hot breath puffed in clouds from its snarling jaws, eyes gleaming with wild intelligence.

Then—he spoke.

“Stay put,” the wolf growled, voice gravelly and low, “or I’ll have no choice but to tear you apart.”