Golden Glade King of Kings

The boy nuzzles into the hind of his mother, his big paws wrapping around her leg in a vain attempt at a hug for some sort of affection and safety. Theres too many words thrown around, too many voices clammering above him and all Primrose can do is struggle to hang onto the adult conversation.

'God' 'Highelk' And then his mother's— 'Inbred religious fanatics' Prim furrows his brows at those words so foreign to him. He had never heard his mother say such mean things, but the way she whispers them with scorn tells him they're something he shouldn't ever repeat.

The deafening snarl that sounds in respond only further drills that thought in his head.

He stares with wide eyes and a trembling frame up at the brown wolf with a red gaze. Their teeth—large and sharp and imposing are something of a nightmare, a thing that will stick with the boy for years to come.

A whimper worms it's way through his throat.

Staring at the King, the peachy boy steps out from behind his mother with a tail between his legs and puffed up cheeks. "I'm Primrose!" he loudly proclaims at the giant. "And this is my mother, Niamh, and my friend Chan...el! Are you... um... going to hurt us?"