The Prophecy of the Golden Wolf
The other wolves' awe was still something I was getting used to—being the only golden wolf any of them had ever seen.
Alpha Finn's wolf, Shadow, was massive and dark with intelligent eyes that held depths of experience. Luna Lydia's silver wolf, Mist, moved with elegant fluidity that spoke to her Luna heritage. Together with Uncle Alric's black wolf, Anya's silver form, and Thorne's russet wolf, we formed a circle that felt both ancient and new.
When Uncle Alric howled—pure joy and freedom given voice—something deep inside me resonated with recognition. This was pack in its truest form: wolves running together under starlight, connected by bonds deeper than politics or territory.
Bab Populer