Hold onto your wishes if you can't hold onto me.

The pale light of dawn spilled through the forest canopy, casting long shadows across the dew-dampened ground. Redrum stood in a small clearing, the forest around him alive with the soft stirrings of the early morning. His muscles twitched involuntarily, a constant reminder of his condition, but his golden eyes were focused, scanning his surroundings with predatory precision.

He had let loose a call. A summon to learn.

Today was a lesson, an opportunity for those curious—or perhaps daring—enough to learn the ways of hunting and the delicate art of traps. His ears flicked back as a few rustles signaled approaching wolves, drawn by the prospect of sharpening their skills. He flexed his claws into the earth, feeling the cool dirt under his pads as a faint grin tugged at his lips. Grounding himself in some part of the word, not used to the number of wolves solely focused on him. Slowly, his head lifted, gaze sweeping the underbrush with a calculated stillness. This was not a place for the faint-hearted; it was where the patient would be rewarded and the reckless would be ensnared. He knew what he had to do. What his mother had entrusted to him. "Who among you wishes to know—" his voice came in that characteristic, halting cadence, each word laden with feral intensity, "How to make the forest... work for y-you?" Trying to make use of some words was harder than others. Such as those pesky ‘yous’. He huffed internally.