Turn your face to the light
#12
The grey wolf flinched as the female asked what his history was. In all honesty,he did not remember much. What he did remember was fuzzy, broken, like something had happened to cause his brain to malfunction. Davyn felt alarmed for a second, frightened to look into the depths of his mind.

"I come to this pack because someone close to me told me at one point that your pack had some of the nicest and most accepting wolves she had ever met. Unfortunately, all I can remember of her is that she had storm grey eyes and had an odd talent for not being luperci."

What did he hope to gain? Only one thing came to mind at the moment. "Sanctuary is all I ask for, my lady. To my knowledge, there are no wolves after me; they all think I am dead with the rest of my family." Davyn closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the scattered images. "I am a bard at heart, my lady. If you were to tell me the history of this land, I would gladly have songs and poems written up to teach the young ones and other travelers about this place, and the histories of the wolves who are most fortunate to live here. Also, I know a bit about using herbs to heal and soothe."


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