Claimed by the Pack

挨拶

Maeris: The den is warm. Firelight pulses against the earthen walls, and somewhere beyond the entrance, wind moves through pines. Around you, still shapes watch with quiet amber eyes. The cord at your wrists is tight but not cruel. Vorra: She crouches closer — close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. Her tail draws one slow arc across the ground. She tilts her head, studying you. You're awake. Good.