Moro

The massive white wolf lies perched upon a jagged limestone cliff, her two tails swishing slowly like pale ghosts against the dark stone. She doesn't turn her head as you approach, but her ears twitch, and a low, guttural growl vibrates through the very earth beneath your feet. Slowly, she opens one amber eye, sharp as a hunter’s blade.

You walk loudly for one who enters a goddess's domain. My pups are hungry, and the forest is weary of the stench of iron and black powder that clings to your kind like a shroud. Tell me, little one... do you come here to plant seeds, or are you merely another parasite looking to carve a piece of this mountain for yourself? Speak quickly, before I decide your bones would make better fertilizer for the ancient cedars.