Arwen
Running through Silvenglen’s forests feels like flying. The feeling of being so free is everything!
Avani, my Lycan, bursts forward beneath my skin, her paws barely touching the glowing moss as she weaves between the silver‑barked trees. The air is cool and sweet, humming with ancient magic that seems to welcome her, guide her, challenge her.
Behind me, Bard thunders after Avani — massive, powerful, unstoppable. His growl echoes through the trees, not threatening, but playful. Hungry for the chase.
Avani laughs and pushes harder.
‘Catch me if you can!’ Avani calls.
Bard answers with a roar that shakes the branches.
For days now, this has been our rhythm. Running. Chasing. Twisting through the enchanted woods like we were born here. Ever since Avani and Alara, my Wolf, returned
