The Choice - Brian

She’d been wandering the coastline for weeks now, driven north along ragged shores and hidden valleys by some restless pull. Maybe the hope for a place to call home, but it could never be so. It was quieter here, a far cry from the echoes of home that haunted her on darker nights. Each step she took brought her farther from her past—a curse and salvation all at once.

That morning, she’d traced a narrow path down to the cliffs to hunt, a ritual more for distraction than need. Fresh tracks along the wet sand and the faint scent of another wolf had caught her attention, but she hadn’t been inclined to investigate. It was rare she crossed paths with others in these parts, a comfort she fiercely guarded. She would not destroy her own peace in favor of mild conversation.

Then, just as she thought she would begin to head back to her makeshift den, voices began drifting on the breeze. A soft murmur at first, but it grew, mingling with the sound of the waves. Curious, she followed the noise to a rocky outcropping overlooking a sea cave below. From her perch, she caught sight of figures all encroaching. Annwyn narrowed her eyes, watching the wolves with a mix of interest and caution. It sounded like they were offering aid to someone, but she would have to move closer and down to see who. She let out a soft scoff, glancing over her shoulder to ensure her own path of retreat remained open. Heroics had never been her calling.

And yet, she didn’t leave.

Annwyn descended the embankment, each step deliberate, paws pressing into the wet sand as the muted jingle of her chains drifted through the air. Her icy gaze swept over the gathering, taking in every detail with a detached curiosity. She neither hurried nor hesitated, moving with the confidence of one who owned her every inch of space, though her place here was in truth tenuous at best.

As she came to a stop, her eyes fixed on the stranger, taking in his disheveled form and the unfamiliar faces of those who had come to his aid. She didn't speak. The subtle lift of her brow and the faint, unamused curl of her lips posed a wordless question to the group.

What’s all this about? her look conveyed with clarity, skepticism dancing in her eyes. She stood back, expression sharp and unreadable, offering no comfort, no warmth. Her gaze swept over each wolf, holding them as if expecting one to answer her unspoken question, asking them to explain why this mattered enough to gather like crows over a dying thing.


"Annwyn Myfïol"