Ark and Werewolf Family 7

"What needs to be done." Altair gazed down at the soil, moist with a small, soft white flower. The petals were delicate and swayed in the wind with dew.

Ortia did not respond immediately; she turned back to Altair and took a deep breath.

For his part, Altair leaned quietly against the tree, eyes closed as he breathed in the scent of the forest. It was the smell of life, the forest that embraced thousands of lives, the vibrancy of everything competing to bloom.

The moist soil, wilted flowers, and scattered messy leaves made him linger with every breath.

"I am meant to be the sharpest sword of both races, and I will not refuse anything as long as it is useful," Altair said softly, his voice smooth, as if he were promising some mission.