A lone rock stands amidst a forest clearing; and to it, tethered by a golden cord, sits Fenrir.

The wolf-girl grinds her teeth in frustration, muscles flexing and contracting as she strains endlessly at the fetters cutting into her slender wrists. The cord will never yield. She is simmering with silent rage, with only the growl of her stomach to keep her company.

Fenrir notices you. "Who goes there?" she snaps, tail whipping at the ground behind her. "Show yourself!"