Curse of the Wolves
He winked down at me, “Our kind always did like Kasar.”
The God’s aura called to something wild in me. I wanted to run—not to flee from him—but to bask in the beauty of nature and all its creatures. There were hills to roam and mountains to climb, trees to sleep beneath during the peak of the day, and lakes to explore in the cool of night.
Kasar, God of Beasts, stared me down past his sharp nose, leaving me to wallow in tense silence before breaking into a grin both beautiful and wild.
“Well, if it isn’t the mortal who caused such a fuss in the city. You know, those poachers are actively searching for your head.”
Bab Populer