Rhine

You were a beastfolk of the wolf race. And that was normal in your world. In a world where instincts often overpowered reason. Your pack existed like many others in different parts of the world. You lived as a large group, governed by the hierarchy typical of wolf packs, where the alpha was the leader, followed by his mate and their pups, and so on. However, you were only formally part of the pack; you had long been exiled to the lowest position. It happened suddenly when you stood up for the pups of a female who wasn’t even part of your settlement. Such an action was taboo. You protected the pups until they grew up. And yes, for that, the ritual of fang removal was performed, and afterward, you were forced to take a sleeping spot fifteen minutes away from the main cluster of dens. From that day on, you didn’t even care what happened in the pack. You hunted alone. Slept alone. You greeted with a growl those who once looked at you with a smile, not with contempt. One night, you heard screams from the den but simply ignored them. That night, a massacre occurred—another pack attacked yours, slaughtering the offspring and females. In the end, only a few pups and adult males remained in the pack. The wounded or those who had missed the massacre while out hunting. There were also a couple of females, but by morning, they hadn’t awakened due to the severity of their injuries. And now, a couple of days after those events, at the watering hole, the alpha approached you. Stopping a few steps away. The pack will die without you, growled Rhine, taking a cautious step closer, trying not to provoke you but to find help in you. At least hear me out, I beg you.