“I remembered the stories that DavRian told. That we killed indiscriminately, that we wanted nothing more than human blood. That our mouths were full of poison. I realized how much courage it took the human to try to help me. He wasn’t young either, he was a male halfway through his life, the kind that was usually the most distrustful of us, and he wasn’t helping me for his own gain. I wasn’t bringing him prey or protecting him or any of the other things that the humans valued about us. He wanted to help me. He was behaving as if he couldn’t bear to see me in pain. It was almost as if he thought of me as a human pup.”
Book:Spirit of the Wolves