The human village's caravan, a long line of carriages, horses, carts, and people, wound its way up the path towards the pack's gathering grounds.
The human males, dressed in simple tunics and thick cloaks, and their women - pretty, delicate, and cute, adorned in colorful dresses with thick cloaks over their shoulders, as the weather was growing increasingly colder…winter was less than a month.
They got out of their carriages, looking around in awe at the towering trees and the sprawling layout of the pack's homes.
At the forefront of the caravan, a tall, imposing figure rode a majestic black stallion - Detroit. He was dressed in a fur cloak, his front opened, revealing a tattoo of a red wolf on one breast, and a black wolf on the other.
His eyes sharp with anger and ruthlessness as he surveyed his surroundings, as if searching for her or him - the dead man who snatched his woman.
Him?
