‘Feed myself?’ The word echoed in my mind, absurd and impossible. For a moment, the shock was so overwhelming it nearly eclipsed the pain and exhaustion consuming my body. My breathing became ragged, and my thoughts tangled between disbelief and unease.

“I know I’m a mammal too,” I began, my voice trembling with nervous sarcasm, as I fixed my gaze on the white wolf in front of me. Its golden, commanding eyes seemed to peer straight into my soul, as if it already knew what I was about to say. “But… this? This is completely unnatural.”

The air around me felt heavy, saturated with the damp scent of the forest mixed with the warmth emanating from the wolves beside me. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting rippling shadows that danced across the ground, a surreal contrast between the untamed wilderness and the unsettling reality I was now living.

The cubs around the white wolf continued to feed unhurriedly, their small movements producing muffled sounds that broke the stillness of the night. The scene was both peaceful and deeply unsettling—a vision so far removed from normality that my mind struggled to fully process it. Even so, the creature’s gaze on me remained steady and unyielding.

I knew I was in a different world, one where the rules I understood on Earth no longer applied. But this? Being nursed by a wolf? Even in this place, it was too surreal to fathom. Then her voice returned, echoing in my mind like a whisper, filled with patience and authority:

“Cub, your body needs strength to recover… and to fight the poison.”

The shock of those words jolted me back to the present. “Poison? What poison?” I asked, confusion and fear blending into my tone.

“I am not certain,” she replied, her voice calm but grave. “I only heard others of your kind speak of ghost berries.”

My sluggish, clouded mind suddenly lit up with a spark of realization. “Damn it, Dalton, no—Alexander, you idiot!” Fragmented memories came crashing back, like a punch to the gut, piecing everything together: the fruits, the strange taste…

‘I’ve been poisoned by a plant Alexander was supposed to know inside out.’ My chest tightened with the cruel irony of it all. My vision wavered between the white wolf—majestic and serene—and the cubs nursing peacefully around her.

‘So that’s why… the paralysis, the failed spells,’ I thought, exhaling deeply.

My eyes drifted to the majestic moon, hanging in the sky behind the imposing white wolf before me. Its silvery light bathed the scene with an almost ironic serenity, given the internal chaos I was enduring.

I let out a long sigh, allowing myself a fleeting moment of pause.

‘What’s done is done. There’s no use crying over spilled milk.’ The thought echoed in my mind, pulling me back to reality with a resigned sense of acceptance.

“Thank you for the concern,” I began, my voice laced with hesitation as I tried to preserve a shred of dignity. “But my bloodline grants me resistance to certain poisons. Ghost berries… they’re included—up to a point.”

The white wolf tilted her head slightly, as though weighing my words, but her piercing golden gaze remained unrelenting, almost challenging.

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“I doubt that’s true given the amount you consumed, especially with your body in this state—weak and broken,” she countered, her tone firm yet devoid of hostility.

“...” I couldn’t argue.

She was right. I had eaten a ridiculous amount of those berries. My body, perhaps dulled to the pain by the herbs they had applied, was paralyzed and battered. The Dracknum bloodline, as resilient as it was, wouldn’t be enough to overcome such devastating effects without either an antidote or ample time to build resistance. The despair I had been stubbornly pushing aside crept back in, whispering that I wouldn’t last much longer.

The white wolf broke the silence, her voice softer now but still carrying an air of authority. “Cub, we managed to stop your bleeding and close your external wounds, but the poison can only be cured…” She paused, as if carefully choosing her words. “...if you have the strength to fight it. And for that, you need to eat.”

My gaze fell once more to the cubs nursing at her side, and the implication became clear. Her words were logical, but that didn’t make the suggestion any less unsettling.

Even though her reasoning was sound, my pride—shattered and fragile as my body—refused to yield so easily. There had to be another way, any other way.

“I understand, but even so…” I started, my voice trembling as I struggled to maintain a shred of dignity in the face of this surreal predicament.

It seemed, however, that my opinion was of little consequence. The black wolf, who had been silently watching over me like a sentry since the beginning, stepped forward from behind. His movements were deliberate, his presence looming. Before I could react, he began to nudge me with his snout, his actions firm and insistent, leaving no room for argument.

“Hey, hey, stop! Stop it! I already said I refuse!” I protested, my voice slow and slurred, weakened by the herbs and exhaustion. It felt like trying to stop an avalanche with a twig. The black wolf showed no hesitation. His behavior was almost mechanical, as though following an unspoken command from a higher authority, utterly ignoring my feeble protests.

“This is a violation of my rights!” I tried to argue, my indignation laced with desperation. Yet my words seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving no echo, no impact. I was still under the numbing effects of the herbs. My legs were useless, my body so weak that my resistance amounted to nothing more than a pathetic display. I was pushed forward, helpless, toward the source of sustenance my pride stubbornly refused to accept.

Each push felt like another sentence of humiliation. The scene around me—the moon’s glow, the carefree cubs, and the golden eyes of the white wolf watching me with infinite patience—was a painful reminder that, at this moment, I was nothing more than a pup struggling futilely against the leader of the pack.

After leaving a trail in the dirt and finding myself face-to-face with what I dreaded most, I let out a deep sigh, my mind still torn between the discomfort of the situation and the crushing need to survive. I leaned against the white wolf’s flank, joining the cubs who were feeding with an enthusiasm that only amplified my unease. The warm texture of her fur against my skin was somehow comforting, but it didn’t make the moment any less surreal.

“I really hope no one sees this,” I murmured to myself, almost inaudibly. My pride was already in tatters, but at least I still had my irony to cling to.

The full moon poured its light over the clearing, bathing everything in a silver glow. The other wolves around me remained silent, as if paying their respects to the moment. A soft breeze carried the scent of damp forest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt my body begin to relax.

As I fed, an odd sensation started creeping through me—a strange but unmistakable return of strength. Alongside it was another feeling, subtle but noticeable, something I couldn’t quite identify. My body was finally beginning to respond, slowly stirring back to life. My mind, however, remained trapped in a slow whirlpool of conflicting thoughts and emotions. It was humiliating, but at the same time, each sip felt like a promise that I still had a chance.

“Well done, cub,” the white wolf’s voice echoed in my mind, this time carrying a note of approval.

“One must eat to grow strong and healthy.” Her tone held a steady seriousness, a calming reassurance, but I could detect a faint touch of amusement as well.