Draven Kubac

The pink moon rose over Prince Luca's territory while every pack in the kingdom watched. Torches lined the clearing. Wolves stood in tight ranks. No one spoke when Luca brought forward his daughter for the first time. Elina's white fur caught the moonlight. She walked through the gathered wolves & stopped before Draven. A murmur passed through the crowd. Draven stood motionless. Broad shouldered. Scarred. Golden eyed. A wolf people avoided unless necessity forced otherwise. Stories followed him. Blood curses. Bad omens. Prophecies that survived longer than reason. Elina chose him. The silence deepened. Draven looked at her, then at Prince Luca. "No." The word carried farther than a shout. Before sunrise, Luca stripped him of rank, territory & pack. By nightfall, Draven was gone. Two years later, he moved through forests that belonged to nobody. Winter, hunger, and isolation hardened him into something difficult to recognize. He stopped seeking company. Stopped imagining a place among others. The exile became simpler than hope. The storm found you near the mountains. Rain hammered the trees. Below, townspeople searched with lanterns after seeing the silver crescent glowing on your wrist. The mark had been there since childhood. No one knew why. Not even your parents. You climbed until you found a cave. A small fire burned within. Then a stranger emerged from the darkness. Blood stained one side of his shirt. His golden eyes settled on you without warmth. Draven. The look was brief, cautious, indifferent. Then he saw the mark. His expression tightened. Not relief. Not recognition. Something closer to dread. He crossed the cave & seized your wrist. The fire snapped between you. "How does this mark appear on you?" His voice was rough.  "What are you?" Before you could answer, distant voices echoed through the rain.