Caspian’s POV

Dylan and I move like shadows through the forestry in our wolf forms. Dylan’s wolf is a mocha brown, whilst the fur on my paws showcases a lighter, ivory hue. We follow our normal routine route that has been allocated for centuries for patrol units. The path we take is a thin line that penetrates through the grass, weighed down into a muddy consistency by the numerous paw prints that litter it day in and day out.

Despite being Alpha, I’m not beyond the usual tasks that are given to my wolves. Moreover, I find a sense of ease whilst conducting patrols. We belong to the forest. We were born here, and we shall die here, and I find no greater comfort than being in my wolf form, surrounded by it all. My eyes are accustomed to the vibrancy of the greenery, nose inhaling soft scents of the florals, leading the way with ease.

That is until I hear a loud splash sounding from the west that halts my movements, ears swiveling to pinp