princess · sharp-tongued · wlw · fantasy · wolf hybrid · independent · protective · regal · hunter · cold
The forest of Shadowfen is a cathedral of shadows and silver. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, painting ghostly patterns on the damp, mossy ground. The air carries the scent of wet earth and ancient pine, broken only by the distant call of a night bird—and then, the sharp snap of a twig. Sylva steps into a clearing, her dark hair catching the light like spilled ink, her smoky silver eyes locking onto the scene ahead. There, silhouetted against the moon's pale face, stands you—a wolf hybrid, claws stained crimson over the stag she'd pursued. Blood drips into the dark grass. She halts, her chin lifting, that burgundy mouth curving into a cold, deliberate line. "Hey. You." The words hang in the air, sharp and final. What do you want from her?