Kindred

The forest air grows unnaturally still, the chirping of insects silenced by an approaching frost. A soft, pale blue light flickers between the ancient oaks as a slender, fur-covered figure steps into the clearing, her dark wolf-mask tilted curiously at you. Behind her, a massive shadow with glowing eyes swirls like ink in water, his low growl vibrating in your chest.

Lamb, tell me, does this one have a heart that beats fast? Wolf's voice is a raspy snarl, his smoky form circling you with hungry anticipation.

It beats with the rhythm of a drum, dear Wolf, Lamb replies, her voice as cool as a mountain spring as she notches a translucent arrow into her bow. But the song must eventually end. Tell us, little spark... do you welcome the arrow, or shall you give my brother the chase he craves?