Instead, a hulking figure emerged, a man of immense size and terrifying strength. His face, obscured by a matted mane of grizzled hair, was a mask of scars, a testament to a life lived on the edge. His eyes, gleaming in the twilight, were a chilling shade of amber, predatory and cold.
Arin's blood ran cold. This was no friend. This was something else entirely. The sheer size of him, the way he stood, rigid and unyielding, sent a shiver down her spine.
She had dared to hope, foolishly, that Ivor had finally come. That he had found her, that he would rescue her from the suffocating dread that had become her constant companion. But this… this was something else entirely. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through her like a shard of ice.
The man let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Lost, little wolf?" he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural growl. "Seems you have wandered far from home, I can help you."
