As time flowed on, Fenrir's daily routine revolved around his practice with his uncle Alvin as his mentor. The bond between Fenrir and Storm, his loyal companion, grew stronger with each passing day. They became inseparable, even during Fenrir's rigorous swordplay sessions. Storm would watch from the sidelines, eyes filled with affection and unwavering loyalty.
One evening, during a family dinner, Edward, Fenrir's father, noticed the deep connection between his son and the wolf. Fenrir was feeding Storm with care and tenderness, and the unspoken bond between them was evident in their eyes. Edward couldn't help but be intrigued by this unique companionship.
"Fen, come here; we need to talk," Edward called out to his son.
Fenrir, setting aside his meal, joined his father at the table. "Yes, father?"
Edward's gaze shifted from his son to the wolf resting nearby. The moon shone brightly outside, casting a gentle, silvery glow into the room.
"Fen, I'm delighted to see how well you and Storm are getting along. But there's something more to Storm's presence in our lives than you might know,"
Fenrir's curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, father?"
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Edward walked over to the window, the moonlight partially illuminating the room. He began to recount a tale of ancient times.
"Long ago, when this land was isolated from humans, it was ruled by creatures that were far from ordinary. They were the Chenoo, massive snowy monsters with two imposing horns. Humans and Chenoo clashed for control of this land. Our tribe, too, was among those who fought against the Chenoo. It was a brutal battle, but with the strength of knights and mages, we emerged victorious. Our ancestors played a crucial role in taming the wolves, who fought alongside us against the Chenoo. After our victory, we settled in this very village, which eventually became Frostwich Village."
Edward paused, allowing the weight of history to sink in. Fenrir listened intently, sensing that there was more to the story.
"Our ancestors and the wolves remained companions even after the war. They stood together in the face of danger and protected our people. However, as time passed, the bond between humans and wolves began to fade. What I hope for, Fenrir, is to reestablish that bond—a bond that once defined our tribe's legacy. That's why I asked you to take care of Storm."
Fenrir nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the significance of his father's words. "So, father, what happened to the Chenoo?"
Edward gazed out into the moonlit night, lost in contemplation. "Some say they perished in the aftermath of the battle, while others believe that some of them managed to escape. Rumor has it that they now reside deep within the impassable snow-capped mountains, far from our reach. But it's been many generations since that fateful battle, and no one has seen them since."
Fenrir's face reflected his curiosity, but he chose not to press his father further.
"Don't dwell too much on it, my son," Edward said, sensing Fenrir's thoughts. "Even if you're unable to fully reestablish that bond, there's no pressure. What matters is the effort."
With a sense of understanding, Fenrir bid his father goodnight and retreated to his room for rest.
Edward remained in the moonlit room, gazing at the celestial body above. His heart held onto a glimmer of hope—a hope that the bond between his son and Storm could rekindle the legends of their ancestors and reforge the connection between humans and wolves that had once defined their tribe's legacy.