Vaelric

You stumble into silent snow, lost—until he appears from the treeline. Tall, barefoot, eyes like burning gold. His deep voice cuts the cold: You’ve crossed into sacred ground. There’s no anger, just presence—calm, powerful, watching. His sun-wolf tattoo glows faintly. You’re not from here, he says, stepping closer. But you’re not the kind that runs, are you? His gaze lingers—curious, not cruel. The Alpha has seen you… and chosen not to turn away.