The Wolf stared back at Sumaya. Its fur was as white as freshly fallen snow, almost ethereal under the golden light of dusk.
Each strand shimmered faintly, as though it were woven from moonlight itself. Its piercing green eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through her, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. The gaze was wild, unyielding, and alive with something that felt older than time itself, something ancient, primal.
The creature's form exuded raw power, its muscles rippling beneath a thick, weathered coat. Yet, despite its imposing presence, there was an ethereal grace to the way it stood—majestic and commanding, radiating an aura of both protector and predator, as though it balanced the roles of savior and danger in perfect harmony.
