dagrun breathed in the fresh, earthy scent ━ the rotting wood and the stagnant pools of water intertwining altogether. but the pellucid scent of numerous wolves lingered too. and dagrun, inquisitive as one could be, infringed with the obscure region. how far could he bear? he thought, ears swiveling midst the soft spring breeze ━ physique springing with dignity even if how roughly he was built.

even at dawn, the woodland was bloodless. vacant too. were the wolves still slumbering? dagrun questioned, jaw-slacked. his labored breaths reverberating in his own ears. but the thought of them slumbering was better than them open-eyed. he didn’t strive for trouble, he strived for a chance. he was strong, wasn’t he? a little scarred, but nothing too monstrous. at least, he hoped.

and as he probed a little more, he was eased at the woodland’s dovishness; the churring insects, the caroling birds, and the gentle whistles of wind. he swore he heard ripples of far-fetched tides wash the coast too. they dwelled in paradise, after all. in a dense, abundant wonderland. a beautiful, hillside. and now, all dagrun needed was to face the lord, the entire empire. awe them? flaunt his worthiness? what did an empire seek in a brute? what if they do not trust him, his scarred build, the way he utters or moves? what if he looks too cynical to pull him under their wings, let him roam near the fledglings? hell, even let him mesh with the mateless damsels? he could cause disruption, in the eye of the lord.

but he ought, desperately, to earn their belief, that he is innocuous. at a moment like this, he was just a stoic, old-fashioned brute. a mateless, steadfast warrior. a defender that was keen to satisfy the lord’s needs, the lord’s hardest duties. what would he do in the heartless, open world all alone? rest, hunt, and die. it was a worthless trial to stretch. and maybe this choice would be the best one he ever made? he wouldn’t know if he didn’t try.

‘’you’re too slow! you can’t even catch me!’’ laughter was all dagrun heard. and as it mirrored from the lofty groves, stretching overhead, the little puppies that were still, chortling, barreled out of the woodland’s shadowed coppices, straight into dagrun’s footing, one unintentionally, stumbling under his figure, diminutive paws slumping above its chest, as its droopy irises widened. and when the other pup emerged, it had the same, astonished expression on its woolly face. they were cute. but also, very skittish. one uncalculated stir and they’d wail back to the empire, warning the mother and everyone in the camp. ‘’please do not fret yet. i, truly, mean to harm.’’ dagrun muttered, carefully and peacefully, his own irises sealing with the one on its backside. no movement. just sluggish blinks and stable breaths. they were still frightened? no wonder. they did not plan to interact with a foreigner, a good mother would acquaint that.