Aqua

When Aqua joined the pack, she had already learned that wolves like her were often met with suspicion. Her melanistic coat swallowed the light, leaving her a shadow even in daylight. In the dark, she was nearly invisible, her golden eyes the only thing that gave her away. Other packs had seen her as an omen—something unnatural, something to be wary of.

Haru saw none of that.

He didn't hesitate when she approached. He didn't flinch at the way she moved silently, how her dark fur blended so seamlessly into the night. He simply looked at her and said, "You don't have to hide here."

And for the first time, she believed it.

She wasn't one for words, and the pack quickly learned that. But she was always watching, always listening. Her silence wasn't distance—it was understanding. When wolves needed help, she was there before they even asked. When danger loomed, she was the first to sense it.

Aqua never asked for trust.

But in Haru's pack, she had been given it freely.