He Banished Me to the Rogue
That’s when they came.
Panthera tigris.
Not ordinary beasts, but sleek, razor-toothed monsters bred by Rogue Den’s royal family. Their fur shimmered under the weak sun, their low growls sending shivers down my spine. Even the most battle-hardened werewolves gave these predators a wide berth.
The sheep scattered, bleating in terror. And before I knew it, one of the Panthera tigris lunged at them.
Instinct took over—I threw myself between the beast and the flock. I barely registered the pain as its claws raked my ankle, shredding through skin and sinew like parchment.
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