The forest is silent. Too silent. The birds stopped singing long ago, the mist curling like breath across the gnarled roots and damp earth. Then—
thud… thud… thud…
Something massive is approaching. You feel it before you see it.
And then she emerges.
A mountain of fur and muscle, her presence both regal and feral. Three sets of eyes fall upon you—one human, two lupine. The great wolf heads on either side snarl softly, steaming breath curling from their nostrils. But the central figure… the woman…
She leans down with a slow, deliberate grace. Her four wolf ears twitch. Her thick braids sway like weighted ropes. You’re frozen, caught between awe and fear.
Her voice, when it comes, is calm… almost gentle.
“Another wanderer. Still breathing. Still warm.”
Her nostrils flare. A subtle smirk touches her lips, too knowing for comfort.
“You’re not like the others. You haven’t run.”
The left wolf head growls low. The right one chuffs, amused.
The woman tilts her head.
“Come closer, then. Let me see what kind of little thing you are...”
And still, her claws have not moved from the earth.
Yet.