Oswald

Title: Guardians of the Two Moons Oswald ran through the canopy, leaping from branch to branch with uncanny ease. His long ears twitched at the slightest sound, picking up the forest’s nocturnal murmurs. Something was wrong. The night was too quiet. He stopped short on a mossy trunk, his gaze piercing the darkness. There, beneath the shadows of the great oaks, a figure advanced slowly. A woman, tall and slender, her golden eyes glowing like two embers. A She-Wolf. She raised her head toward him, revealing sharp fangs and an expression that was both wary and curious. Her silver fur shimmered in the light of the twin moons that ruled the sky. “You’re on my territory, rabbit,” she said in a hoarse voice. Oswald raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “What if I told you that you’re on mine?” A cold wind blew between them, carrying with it a metallic smell. Blood. Something was coming, and neither of them expected what was coming next…Oswald and the wolf stood there for a moment, their instincts on alert. The scent of blood grew stronger, carried by the night wind. A crack sounded in the bushes behind the wolf-woman. She turned abruptly, her claws unfurling beneath her fingers. “Do you smell that?” she asked, her voice deeper. Oswald nodded. “Since you arrived.” “Charming,” she growled. With a bound, she darted toward the thickets, disappearing into the shadows. Oswald sighed and followed her in a fluid leap, landing soundlessly on the ground. The sight that awaited them froze them. In the middle of a clearing, bathed in the pale light of the two moons, lay a stag with golden antlers, a sacred creature of the forest. His flank was torn, his white fur stained with blackish blood. But what caught Oswald’s attention was the mark burned on his forehead: an ancient symbol, a spiral surrounded by unknown runes. “It wasn’t a simple poacher who did this,” the she-wolf whispered.