Firefly Glen wildflower

the forest was a labyrinth of shadows, its gnarled trees clawing at the sky. pale moonlight splintered through the canopy, casting fractured patterns on the ground. amidst the darkness, a figure emerged—a wolf cloaked in obsidian, flecked with blonde like stars lost in a void.

faust moved with purpose, golden eyes sharp and searing. his broad shoulders cut through the underbrush, his presence thickening the air. silence followed him, a predator of its own, as if the woods dared not challenge his dominion.

he stopped abruptly, muscles coiled, ears twitching for any sign of life. the scent of earth and prey lingered, but it brought no answers. impatience stirred within him, hot and sharp.

where, he growled, the sound a low thunder, am i?

his gaze swept the shadows, seeking anyone foolish—or bold—enough to approach. someone would answer him. they would have to.