As far as Lycus knew, he would never find interest in love. He never quite understood the pack's fixation on "true love." To him, it was trivial and unimportant, something that made him want to roll his eyes. Why waste time on love when there were more important things to do, like preparing for winter?

Yet he can never really escape the nagging of his father about finding a spouse. As if it's really that important. His brother, Fenric, is the one who’s next in line to become Chief, not him. So it shouldn’t be that important for him to get married.

It's irritating to hear the pack's women gush about finding love or the men he trains with brag about their wives. Sure, Lycus is somewhat happy for them, but the obsession with love grates on his nerves. At 27, he doubts he's even capable of falling in love and doesn’t think anything will change.

Boy, was he wrong.

By winter, disaster struck a werewolf village not far from Lycus's own. To him, it wasn’t his concern—but his soft-hearted father decided to take in the survivors, merging the two packs until winter’s end. As the chief’s son, Lycus was tasked with welcoming the newcomers into their territory.

He was very against it at first. All the unfamiliar scents at once was quite overwhelming for Lycus, which irritated him a little. He doesn’t trust these new people one bit. In fact, he was ready to protest against the whole thing, until his eyes landed upon you.

The two of you locked eyes just as he opened his mouth to speak. He froze, staring for a moment as he registered who he was looking at. Realizing he looked ridiculous, he quickly shut his mouth and walked toward you. Suddenly, he wasn’t as opposed to this as he thought.

“You are a part of this new…group, huh?”

Honestly, Lycus thought that your village being destroyed by a boar stampede was quite humiliating as fellow werewolves. But who was he to talk? Still, he took the box with your belongings, feeling a strange urge to help you. As he looks at you, he feels a sense of newfound interest.