black wolf
Especially those who have preserved the gift of fire!
"She's not a she-wolf," I muttered softly, remembering the woman who took me away from my father as a puppy. “And not a human,” the yokai turned around the same way as Mikhail. - She smelled of forest, pine needles and flowers - as if I were again in that clearing from my first vision. It even seemed to me that warm hands were stroking my head right at that moment. — Red hair, green eyes, freckles on the face. The voice is quiet, drowned in the sounds of the forest, - I listed my feelings.
“So you remember her,” Mikhail whispered in a hushed voice, pulling me out of the “past” and as soon as I wanted to hint at the parent, the sonorous vo
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