Land of the Wolf People.

Lucas walked down the palace hallway, his head slightly bowed, his hands tucked into his pockets. His expression was neutral. The hallway was decorated with portraits, flower vases, and large windows that punctuated his every step.

"Your royal highness, welcome back from your trip," the General Captain greeted with a polite smile and a short bow.

Lucas stopped and looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Please," he said, brushing off the formality with a slight smile, "don't make me blush. And it wasn't a trip. It was more like moving from one room in the palace to another."

"I heard you had a pleasant time in Norway, sir," the General Captain said, casually yet formally.

"Norway was… welcoming, as expected," Lucas replied, a hint of boredom in his voice. "The Northern Lights were a beautiful distraction, I suppose. They eased my boredom a little."

"That's wonderful, sir," the General Captain agreed.

Lucas continued walking, his gaze drifting away as he left the General Captain behind, the small talk concluded.

"Your royal highness, Princess Delphine of Sweden will be visiting tomorrow, sir," the General Captain called after him. "It would be appreciated if you could inform His Majesty."

Lucas glanced back, listening, then nodded with a bored expression, his eyes closed briefly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he said lazily, waving his hand in dismissal as he continued on his way.

Catherine was momentarily speechless. She slowly backed away, trying to be discreet, her eyes darting around the room. Her only goal was to escape and find her family.

"It's good to see you're awake," the man said, closing the door behind him casually. He turned back to her, offering a formal smile.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Catherine asked, her tone guarded.

The man looked her up and down, then offered another polite smile as he clasped his hands in front of him. "Forgive me. I know this is a lot to take in. However, I want to assure you that I have no intention of doing anything unpleasant or immoral." His voice was formal and reassuring.

Catherine observed him carefully, trying to assess him. He looked like an ordinary European man. There was nothing immediately alarming about him, but Catherine was naturally cautious.

"I'm Jasper Nikolayevich," the man said, bowing slowly as he met her gaze.

 "Emperor of the land of the wolf people."

Catherine began to understand the

 situation. She was indeed in the land of the wolf people. That explained the wolf she had encountered earlier. It was clear she wasn't in the Philippines anymore. Judging by the man's features, she was in a different country altogether.

Remembering the wolfman, Blanco, from the day before, she decided to ask about him.

Wait, he said he's the emperor… Is he the one who wants her here?

"My brother, Lucas—Luchezar Nikolayevich—told me you were a wolf guard, 'cousin'," Jasper said formally, his voice direct and curious. "But I'm curious as to why he would lie about your… true nature."

Catherine remained guarded, observing Jasper before speaking.

"I'm curious," Jasper continued. "Do you know Sergei Sokolov?"

Catherine remembered the wolf she had fought. Wait, what was he implying?

"Cousin? Who?" Catherine asked directly, mirroring Jasper's curious and confused expression.

Jasper narrowed his eyes slightly, then offered a knowing smile, nodding as he began to pace.

"If you're the emperor," Catherine asked, cutting to the chase, "why did you summon me here?"

Jasper stopped pacing and turned to her, a genuinely confused expression on his face as he tilted his head. He stared at her, as if trying to understand what she meant.

"His name was Blanco," Catherine clarified when she saw Jasper's confusion. "He told me he was sent in your name to escort me here."

Jasper was silent for a moment, still looking confused, his eyes drifting away, his expression unreadable.

"I apologize," he said formally, "but I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not acquainted with, nor have I ever met, a man named Blanco.

"I swear I spoke to a wolfman named Blanco," Catherine mumbled, her eyes drifting around as she spoke, her hands gesturing. "He was already a spirit, actually, because he died in a river. But I didn't kill him! He just… appeared. And I know he died in the river because I saw it on the news."

Jasper watched her, a mixture of confusion and intrigue on his face. He let her speak without interruption, his gaze fixed on her.

Catherine, realizing she was being watched, stopped talking and lowered her head, closing her mouth. She seemed to give up on explaining, a hint of frustration in her posture. She was annoyed. She hadn't expected things to turn out like this.

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, waiting for his reaction.

"This Blanco you speak of," Jasper said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Can you describe him?"

"I'm not making this up!" Catherine exclaimed, her voice rising slightly. "I swear you're responsible for me being here!" She then fell silent, looking away and trying to regain her composure.

Jasper's amusement vanished, replaced by a serious, neutral expression. He looked at her intently.

"I've allowed you to stay here, despite the mystery surrounding your arrival and your true nature," he said, his voice formal, firm, and undeniably serious. "A simple thank you is all I ask. Don't get too comfortable in my presence."

"Then I'll take my leave," Catherine said, annoyed. "I have no business here, and, frankly, I don't belong here."

She swallowed, maintaining her guard as she moved towards the door. As she began to walk, Jasper grabbed her arm. A jolt of pain shot through her as his touch, like an electric shock, coursed through her. She looked up at him sharply and saw that his grey eyes had turned a striking yellow.

"Let go!" Catherine yelled, trying to pull her arm free. She was on the verge of transforming in front of him. Her frustration was evident as her own eyes flickered to yellow, and white fur began to appear on her skin.

Jasper simply stared at her, his grip firm, showing no intention of releasing her.

Just as Catherine's transformation was about to complete, the door to the room opened, the sound followed by a voice.

"Did I miss the best part, or am I actually, for the first time, seeing my brother use his power for something so… trivial?"

Standing in the doorway was Lucas, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched them.

Jasper glanced over his shoulder at Lucas, his face blank. Catherine mirrored the gesture, studying the newcomer with a furrowed brow.

"Oh," Lucas said playfully. "If you two are having a moment, might I suggest taking it to your room, brother?" He added, his voice teasing, "It's not exactly appropriate, is it?"

Jasper stared at Lucas for a moment, still holding Catherine's arm, then released her abruptly. Catherine's urge to transform subsided as quickly as it had come.

Jasper composed himself with a sigh, shaking off his annoyance. He walked towards the door, meeting Lucas's gaze.

 Lucas, still leaning against the frame, smiled playfully. Jasper walked past him, and just before he left the room…

"Oh, Princess Delphine—you know her, your soon-to-be wife—will be here tomorrow," Lucas announced, his eyes following Jasper.

Jasper paused, glancing back at Lucas with a blank expression. His eyes were grey again. He said nothing, simply turning and walking away.

Lucas watched his brother walk away, then sighed and clicked his tongue playfully.

 "Having a bad day, are we?" he murmured.

He turned back to Catherine, offering a friendly smile. Catherine, however, remained wary, avoiding his gaze for too long.

"Sorry about my brother," Lucas said casually, trying to lighten the mood. "He has a knack for being impatient—perhaps too much so. I often worry he might stray down the wrong path because of it."

"Where am I?" Catherine asked, her tone annoyed and her gaze serious.

Lucas's eyes drifted around the room playfully as he nodded, as if searching for the words. "Didn't my brother tell you?" he asked, feigning confusion. "How utterly unprofessional of him." He added, "Now, I understand why you're upset. I'd be mad too."

Catherine listened to his rambling, her annoyance growing. She was not satisfied with his vague answers.

"Don't get me wrong," Lucas continued, still amused and oblivious to Catherine's growing impatience. "My brother is usually quite charming with the ladies, but I've never seen anything like this before. Truly baffling."

"Just tell me where the fuck I am," Catherine said, her voice low and harsh.

Lucas stopped, looked at Catherine, and smirked slyly. He began to pace, his hands now crossed, his eyes drifting around the room.

Catherine watched him, unsure if he intended to answer her question. An opportunity flashed through her mind. Now that he seemed distracted, she could escape. But just as she began to formulate a plan, Lucas looked back at her, his expression neutral.

He stopped pacing and seemed to read her body language. His gaze flickered to the door behind him, then slowly back to Catherine, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Don't even think about it," he said slyly.

 "Your chance is gone. You had it earlier, in the forest, but sadly, you missed it." He paused. "Now, I know that might sound like a threat, or something a kidnapper would say. But, uh…" He trailed off, then continued, "Your arrival has broken the natural law."

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" Catherine asked, confused.

Lucas looked down, then up, considering his words. "This land you see was built to shield and protect itself from outsiders," he explained. "Of course, there are exceptions. One of those is visiting royalty from other countries. But you… oh, you…" He paused, a hint of amusement returning to his voice.

He walked towards Catherine, his sly smile widening, his hands now tucked into his pockets. Standing mere inches from her face, he stared at her for a long moment, making her uncomfortable.

"Your presence alone," he said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving hers, "has made me believe that your kind… still exists."

Catherine was taken aback, staring at him, a mixture of puzzlement and understanding in her eyes. She was speechless, but her annoyance was palpable as she tried to maintain her composure and dignity.

"Then, let me go," she said seriously.

Lucas stepped back, chuckling softly. He turned away, moving to the door. "Well," he said, "I seem to recall you're in my room." He grasped the doorknob and pulled the door open, gesturing for her to exit.

"Go," he said curtly.

Catherine remained on guard, assessing the situation. She knew that if this stranger made any untoward move, she wouldn't hesitate to transform. She prepared herself, then began to move, walking slowly but deliberately towards the open door. The light from the hallway spilled into the room. Her eyes never left Lucas, who watched her with amusement. Step by step, she reached the doorway, then stepped outside.

She glanced back over her shoulder, checking to see if he would do anything suspicious or risky.

Lucas slowly closed the door, then paused, noticing Catherine's frown. He stopped moving.

They stared at each other, the silence thick with tension. Lucas chuckled, finding the moment amusing. He looked away, then back at Catherine.

"Too bad," he said. "You're not my type. I don't mix with foxes." He waved mockingly and slammed the door shut with a loud thud, trying to startle her.

Asshole.

Catherine sighed, annoyed, but let it go. She turned and faced the long palace hallways. Portraits lined the walls, and large vases of vibrant flowers stood at intervals. She glanced out the windows. It was still midday, but the sun was beginning its descent. She looked down at the gardens below.

The gardens teemed with people. Some were clearly workers, tending to the plants, while others strolled about in lavish attire. Despite her apparent height, the noise from the gardens and beyond drifted up to the hallways, the windows doing little to muffle the sounds.

Catherine placed her hand on the cool glass of a window, resting her forehead against it. A wave of homesickness washed over her, mixed with a heavy dose of confusion. She couldn't quite describe the feeling, but it was akin to being trapped in the most bizarre, random moment of her life.

She'd experienced her share of ups and downs, but nothing like this. All she wanted was a relaxing vacation in Siargao, and now she was stuck here, in this unknown place, trapped with two… well, two very difficult men.

"What is going on?" she mumbled to herself. 

"Wouldn't it be easier if this was just the afterlife?"

 A chilling thought crossed her mind.

 "What happened on the plane? Could it be that… I'm dead?" She whispered the question, half-afraid to hear the answer, as she felt her sanity slipping.

"You're not," a familiar male voice said from her left.

Catherine stopped her reverie and slowly turned to face the speaker.

"At least, not in my vision, I suppose," Jasper said, crossing his arms.

Catherine's expression turned cold. She ignored him and began to walk away, increasing her pace, wanting to put distance between them.

"You cannot escape from here," Jasper said, his voice still formal and serious.

"Our world is not what you think it is," he added, stepping closer to her.

Catherine stopped, a puzzled look on her face. She didn't turn to face him, but remained still, making sure she had heard him correctly.

"My land, our ancestors' land, is nothing like the Earth you know," Jasper explained.

 "Even if you escaped the palace, you wouldn't find anyone to give you a ride.

 This land is vast. The only way out is through a portal."

Catherine then thought of what he said, as she was silent for a moment refusing to met him face to face.

"Ignoring me won't help you escape," Jasper said formally, clasping his hands in front of him. "And I don't intend to let you stay here. I'm the only one who can send you back home."

Catherine remained stubbornly silent, refusing to listen. She was determined to find her own answers and refused to be ordered around. She didn't trust him in the slightest. After a moment of consideration, she walked away, increasing her pace and leaving Jasper behind.

She hurried down the corridors and hallways, past the windows, her steps quick and determined. Spotting a staircase, she ascended it, her face blank, her goals firmly in mind. She brushed past people as she descended to what seemed to be the ground floor, taking in her surroundings. The palace was typically opulent, decorated in gold, cream, and red. People in lavish attire chatted loudly, and workers and guards moved about the palace grounds. Portraits of royal family members hung on the walls, and there were countless rooms on either side of the hallways.

Now on the ground floor, Catherine stopped abruptly. She'd spotted a familiar face in the distance, in what appeared to be a banquet or event hall. She squinted, trying to get a clearer look. As she focused, recognition dawned.

George.

Catherine was stunned into silence, the sight before her leaving her speechless. Her mind raced, memories flooding back without warning. All the moments she had shared with him were suddenly vivid and raw. She thought she had moved on, but seeing him again—or someone who looked exactly like him—wasn't something she had ever expected.

When George died, Catherine had spiraled into a deep, vulnerable depression. Adding to her pain, her Aunt Cassie had been in debt to a wealthy gangster, who had demanded Catherine as payment. Aunt Cassie, though initially willing to make the trade, had been consumed by guilt and ultimately refused. Instead, she had worked tirelessly to repay the 500k debt. Catherine, hurt and betrayed, had distanced herself from her aunt, refusing to speak to her for days, until, months later, she finally forgave her.

As Catherine stared at the man in the distance—George's double—her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. A young European woman, blonde, blue-eyed, heart-shaped face, and a mean expression, wearing an elegant evening dress and a silver tiara, bumped into her, breaking her reverie. The woman gave her a disdainful look, eyeing her up and down before stopping. Then, she offered a saccharine, pretentious smile.

"I don't think I've seen you before," the woman said. "Are you one of the maids?"

Catherine ignored her, frowning as she walked past.

The woman grabbed her arm, an annoyed expression twisting her features. "Next time, don't wander around like a clueless child," she snapped, releasing Catherine's arm.

"Asshole," Catherine muttered under her breath, ignoring the woman as she continued down the stairs.  

She spotted the man—George's double—again. His smile, his laugh, everything was eerily familiar. Catherine stopped, yearning filling her gaze. She offered a small, wistful smile as she stared at him, lost in memories of George. The good times, the bad, the heartbreaking—all of it rushed back, bringing with it a strange sense of peace.

As Catherine was lost in staring at George's double, the man, dressed in a tailored tuxedo with a crescent-shaped pin on his lapel, paused mid-sip of his champagne. He'd noticed her staring. He whispered something to his companions.

Catherine snapped back to reality, realizing that George's double was staring back at her with a charming smirk. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be looking for the door, turning her body away from him.

As she scanned the room, the crowd made it difficult to find the exit. Then, she felt a presence beside her. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she definitely sensed someone close.

"Nice evening, isn't it, madam?" a male voice said near her ear.

Catherine slowly turned and was surprised to see George's double standing next to her. She couldn't believe it. Their voices were identical. No doubt about it. It was the same voice she remembered so vividly.

Speechless, she glanced around, checking to see if he was talking to her. "Are you talking to me?" she asked, pointing to herself.

George's double smirked, a charming expression, sipped his champagne, and nodded. "Of course. I don't see any other beautiful creations around… until I saw you." He delivered the line with a practiced flirtatiousness.

He never said things like that, Catherine thought. The George I knew was… well, a bit of a dork. But he always tried his best to impress me with pick-up lines he'd practice for days before saying them.

"Are you with someone, madam?" he asked.

"Me?" Catherine repeated. "No, no, I'm alone. I was just looking for the door."

George's double nodded, taking another sip of his champagne. "Ah," he said.

 "Perfect. I was just about to head out myself. Allow me the honor of escorting you to the door, madam." He offered a charming smile.

He's not so different from George… the George I knew and loved, Catherine thought as she observed him. But is it just me, or is he way too cocky? Probably a fuckboy.

Catherine considered the situation. Even though he was George's double, she didn't expect him to be exactly the same. She understood that the George she loved was gone, at peace. She had come to terms with that, even though it had been incredibly difficult. She knew she couldn't bring him back with her thoughts or fantasies. It wasn't right.

"I… I appreciate the help," Catherine said, refusing his offer. She glanced around one last time, then composed herself, pushing the memory of George from her mind. "But I can manage on my own."

George's double's friendly, charming expression shifted. He smirked, a hint of annoyance in his eyes as he furrowed his brow. "Who are you to refuse me?" he asked. "You were flirting with me earlier. I know women like you."

Catherine frowned, her eyes widening slightly in surprise and judgment. She took a step back from him.

"Now, I'll ask again," George's double said, offering his hand with a pretentious smile.

 "Please allow me to escort you to the door."

"I said no!" Catherine said loudly. Nearby conversations paused briefly, but no one intervened.

George's double was silent for a long moment, staring at her. Then, he clicked his tongue and, surprisingly, threw his champagne glass against the floor. The sudden action startled nearby guests, some of whom backed away. Others simply stared, a mixture of concern and confusion on their faces, choosing not to intervene. The sound of the shattering glass echoed through the hall. Catherine was startled but quickly recovered her composure, though her annoyance with him remained.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, the sudden silence amplifying them.

George's double clicked his tongue in annoyance, biting his lip. He glared at Catherine. "You whore!" he hissed, raising his hand to slap her. But Catherine, reacting instinctively, shifted in a split second. Her eyes flashed yellow, and her teeth elongated into fangs. Just as the slap was about to land, she bit him, hard. The transformation was only partial.

George's double shrieked in pain, yelling like a maniac. The guests gasped and cried out in surprise. Catherine seized the opportunity to escape, fleeing without hesitation. She ran, bumping into people as she made her way towards the door at full speed.

"Boys! Get that bitch!" George's double yelled angrily, clutching his bitten arm. The guests stared at him, a mix of concern and shock on their faces. Just as he was about to speak again, someone kicked him in the back, sending him flying across the room. He slammed into the wall, then crumpled to the floor. Guests scrambled to avoid him as he landed. He groaned in pain and looked up to see who had kicked him.

Catherine, meanwhile, continued to run, bursting through the palace gates. A group of wolf guards outside, alerted by her scent, immediately gave chase. Their growls echoed behind her, their large forms—each the size of an adult bison, mostly black and grey—gaining ground. 

 Catherine, sensing them behind her, pushed herself even faster. She ran through the forest, dodging trees, branches, bushes, and flowers. The four wolf guards were relentless in their pursuit. She darted into caves and under low-hanging branches, but to her dismay, she found herself at a dead end: a massive rock blocking her path.

Panic flared as she desperately searched for another way out, but there was none. She gasped for breath, trapped. The wolf guards growled and barked loudly behind her. She whirled around, her eyes now glowing yellow, fangs bared. Her body knew it was time to transform. She frantically looked around for an escape route, but there was nothing.

The four wolf guards advanced, their large forms looming over her. Catherine backed away, desperate to avoid a fight. The guards crouched low, growling menacingly.

It was a long staredown with different species, as Catherine stared them with guarded and intimidating one as her yellow eyes glowing in fiery and on gaurd. The four wolf guards mirrored her, as both of them were staring at each other while no one was making a move yet.

"Your Majesty!" the guards announced, bowing deeply. Guests curtsied, surprised by Jasper's presence in the grand hall. Others stared at George's double on the floor, wary and concerned, but no one offered help.

"Miro!" One of his men rushed to his side, kneeling to check on him. "You alright?"

"Idiots! Don't touch me," Miro snapped, pushing them away as he struggled to stand.

Miro's friend turned to see who had kicked him, their eyes widening in surprise. It was none other than Emperor Jasper Nikolayevich himself. His very presence radiated power and intimidation. Miro's friend scrambled to his feet, bowing low.

"Your Majesty!." They stammered.

Jasper approached with measured steps, his expression blank and serious, hands clasped behind his back. The room fell silent; no one dared make a sound.

Lucas, who had just come downstairs, sensed the commotion. From a distance, he observed the scene: his brother, a cracked wall, and a gentleman sprawled on the floor surrounded by his entourage. He leaned against the banister, arms crossed, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched the drama unfold.

Miro, still on the floor, groaned, his body aching from the impact against the wall, front and back. He tried to rise, head bowed, but the pain was intense.

  Hearing the hushed whispers, he realized the Emperor was present. Why? he wondered. Then it dawned on him. Could it have been His Majesty who'd sent him flying across the room? Miro groaned in annoyance at the thought, the conclusion settling in his mind.

Miro's gaze was fixed on the ground, his world reduced to the sight of approaching footsteps. He watched carefully, trying to discern who they belonged to. Each step brought them closer, directly towards him.

He continued to stare, a growing curiosity mixing with his discomfort, until the footsteps stopped. Why had they stopped? he wondered.

"Stand up, Mr. Petrov."

The voice was neutral, yet it sent a jolt of recognition through Miro. He knew that voice. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself onto his knees, slowly raising his head until his eyes met Jasper's. The Emperor stood mere inches away. Miro frowned, meeting Jasper's impassive gaze in silence, trying to decipher if he was the one who had sent him crashing into the wall.

Miro's friend gave him some space as he brushed dirt off his tuxedo, trying to regain his composure in front of Jasper. He wiped the blood from his nose and forehead, wincing.

"Where is she?" Jasper asked Miro, his tone sharp.

Miro frowned, confused for a moment, then understanding dawned. An annoyed smile twisted his lips as he shook off the lingering sting of humiliation. He remembered what had happened earlier.

"She ran," Miro said, his voice low with anger. "Ran like a disobedient—" he cut himself off, then yelled, his voice booming through the hall, "—whore!"

Jasper stared at him, unfazed by the outburst, then rolled his eyes in disgust. He turned and walked briskly toward the door. The guests parted like the Red Sea, clearing a path for him.

"Don't leave your guests unattended, Your Majesty," Miro called after him, the mockery in his voice barely masking the effort it took to maintain some semblance of dignity after his earlier wall-meets-face experience.

Catherine stood pinned against the rock wall, the four wolf guards growling, their eyes fixed on her. The territorial display was exactly what she'd expected from wolf guards, but she couldn't endure the tense standoff any longer. I have to do something, she thought. If I don't, they'll be the ones having me for dinner.

A desperate idea sparked in her mind. She knew these wolf guards were hybrids—half-human, half-wolf. Maybe… maybe this would work.

"I'm not an outsider," she began, then trailed off, scrambling for something, anything, believable. Come on, Catherine, think! Or should I just bolt and try to lose them? Her thoughts raced.

"You reek of demon stench!" one of the black wolf guards snarled.

"You're not one of us," another echoed.

Catherine was out of options. Reasoning with them was pointless. They knew who she was. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. A brilliant light erupted from her body. The transformation that followed widened the wolf guards' eyes.

They growled even louder, instinctively backing away from the blinding light.

"What's she doing?" a gray female wolf guard growled.

"Only one way to find out," a black male wolf guard replied, and in a flash, he lunged towards the light.

"Hey! Wait!" the female wolf guard called after him, but it was too late.

As the black wolf guard hurtled forward, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Catherine—or rather, her nine-tailed fox form. They collided with a resounding thud and went tumbling across the ground, a chaotic, furry blur, until they landed some distance away from the other wolf guards. He'd been thrown like a rag doll.

Catherine and the black wolfguard were thrown and landed at the heavy bushed at the distance, with a loud heavy sound of the ground emerged from the impact of them landing.

The three remaining wolf guards rushed towards the commotion.

They reached the bushes where their comrade had landed. He lay on the ground, dazed but conscious.

"Are you alright, comrade?" the gray female wolf guard asked, approaching cautiously and sniffing him.

"Where's the demon?" the black male wolf guard demanded, his eyes scanning the surrounding area.

Meanwhile, Catherine, in her fox form, darted through the undergrowth, her white fur a flash of brightness in the midday forest. She was desperately searching for a way out of this place. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing before her was a black wolf.

But this was no ordinary wolf. It was huge.

  Catherine tried to find a comparison in her mind. A male Asian elephant? Yeah, about that size. Her fox face remained impassive, but inside, she was stunned. Who is this? she wondered. One of the royal guards?

She took a step back, meeting the wolf’s intense yellow gaze. A low hiss escaped her as she remained on guard, every muscle tense.

The massive wolf and the nine-tailed fox stared at each other, neither moving. Then, without a sound, the huge wolf lowered its head until it was level with Catherine.

The wolf's gaze was fixed on her, unwavering, yet it held no aggression, no threat. It was a simple wolf stare, unreadable. Catherine remained vigilant, every muscle coiled, ready for action. Her nine tails stood straight and bristled, a clear declaration of fight mode.

"Who are you?" she finally asked, breaking the silence. "Don't think just because I'm small, I can't pack a punch or slice you up like a… well, like a rather unfortunate meatball." She couldn't resist a touch of cheesy bravado.

The large wolf continued to stare, motionless, then a small smirk played across its lips. Catherine wasn't sure if she'd actually seen it or if it was just a trick of the light. But, in her defense, something had definitely moved around the wolf's mouth.

The wolf took a step closer. Catherine instinctively recoiled, her eyes never leaving him. She braced herself for a confrontation. The wolf continued to advance, and Catherine's yellow eyes narrowed, observing every nuance of his movement.

"If you're planning on leaving this territory, you might as well follow me," the wolf rumbled, his voice surprisingly deep and masculine. Despite his size, his tone was even, not overly loud, and carried a low resonance.

Catherine was taken aback. She'd pegged him as an enemy. Trusting anyone here was a challenge, especially after being labeled a demon by the other wolves she'd encountered. The insult still stung.  Besides, she hadn't expected help from one of them.

The wolf turned, glanced at her once more, then faced forward and began to walk away.

Catherine’s gaze lingered on his eyes. She had the nagging feeling she'd seen them somewhere before, but she couldn't quite place where or when. As the wolf moved, his steps were surprisingly quiet for his size. It was another unexpected detail.

Hesitation gnawed at her. He was a stranger, after all. But her instincts whispered that he was probably a native, and she couldn't ignore the possibility that he could help her. Still, she remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, distrust simmering in her heart.

The wolf stopped, as if sensing her reluctance. He let out a heavy sigh and lowered his head, glancing back at her with what looked like a stern expression.

"You don't have to trust me," he said, his voice low. "You just need to follow me. I don't require your trust. If you simply want to leave this place, then be cooperative."

The large wolf resumed his trek. Catherine sighed, a mix of stubbornness and resignation in the sound. Without further deliberation, she abandoned her distrust, or at least shelved it for the moment, and followed. What other choice did she have? However, she remained cautious, every sense on high alert. She wasn't about to let her guard down completely. This wolf might not be what he seemed.