Peniel
The forest had always been my sanctuary and my prison. As a rogue, every day was a battle for survival, a dance on the knife's edge between predator and prey. In the wild, among towering pines and tangled underbrush, there were no rules but the ones you made for yourself. It was a place of freedom and fear, where the weak were swallowed whole, and the strong scraped by with just enough to see the sunrise.
I became a thief out of necessity. In the pack lands, where power and hierarchy ruled, rogues like me were nothing more than pests. I was an outsider, an outcast who had no right to the protection of a pack or the comfort of a warm den. The werewolf packs were my enemy, and I became adept at evading their patrols, slipping into their territories like a shadow. I stole what I need
