13
Canis Lupus
The days seemed to blur together as I went through the motions of running my kingdom. Each night spent in the quiet confines of my study, the only sound the occasional rustle of paper or the soft clink of glass on wood as I indulged in a solitary drink. My mind, once a fortress of logic and strategy, had become haunted by the specter of Fennec"s well-being—or lack thereof. Kline"s reports, delivered with the sterile detachment of a man who viewed the world through the lens of facts and figures, had become a source of gnawing concern. The lack of appetite, the sleepless nights, the general decline—it painted a picture of Fennec that I found increasingly difficult to ignore.
I didn’t have time to indulge in watching her recently, too busy with the schematics of ensuring my
