The young boy sat on a log outside the cabin he’d grown up in, snow had been falling in for over a year now. He was about 12, and had auburn hair cut into a mohawk and bring blue eyes, and scars across his left eye and cheek. Father was hunting, so he had no need to be worried or concerned. Instead, he focused on drawing the three wolf pups he and Father had rescued last week from a group of Kol Raiders in his journal. He was humming a tune with a smile on his face.