I.4 (1/3)
I dream of home. My village.
Cubs running, playing. Sunlight. Laughter.
I watch. Always watching. I never played.
I want to run too. But my legs tremble when I stand. My breath is too shallow. My paws are cold, always cold.
My mother never let me leave the tent. They tell me to rest. To save my strength.
Then comes the night of The Ritual.