At the first light of dawn, King Alaric found her. He had been restless all night, something pulling at him deep in his chest. A howl that had split through the silent hours before, one that carried a strange familiarity. It wasn't just any wolf's cry. It had felt tied to him somehow, to his blood.
He had shifted, following the sound in his wolf form until his paws led him into his private forest. The air was still damp, the scent of earth and dew thick. Then, she was lying at the base of an old oak, naked, covered in dirt and grass. His heart sank and lifted at once.
"Aveloria…" he whispered as he shifted back, kneeling beside her.
Her breathing was shallow but steady, and her skin was cool but not lifeless. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his chest tightening at the sight of her.
