Alan was by all accounts a normal human noble. He was tortured daily by court affairs which he liked and hated at the same time. He was a member of the Rundil family which was semi-famous and had nothing special about it. In fact, their most recognizable trait was how normal they were. At least by the standards of the Alaverian nobility. This was why everyone had to work hard to gain recognition and an important rank within noble society. Alan wasn't doing a bad job either. He was a hard worker, unlike the rest of the nobility, and he was intelligent. Not like super smart but smart enough to juggle legal plots and conspiracies. And those who are familiar with nobles, especially human nobles, will know that this is actually quite a feat. Alan's life was as normal as he was. He had his routine. Get up early, have breakfast, make lollipops, work, chat with the nobles, make lollipops, attend the last nobles' party, work in his study, sleep. In thirty years of his life nothing has disturbed his sequence. His routine went on and ordinary people were sure that Alan had left traces in the ground by regularly walking along the same path, across the same street, on the same sidewalk. Strangely, he wasn't as dissatisfied with his life as he thought he would be. at the start. Of course he knew that there were better things in life, but since he himself had never experienced anything other than noble comfort and safe routine, he didn't know much about them. But things would soon change. His whole life was about to tip over and explode, scattering all the blue-blooded squierles around. Assuming that even makes sense. Since this is a story about nobility, that's probably not the case. They tend to be like that. All... half of the paper... it's him. Yet he didn't let him go. It wasn't necessary. Life is not about letting things go, but about accepting them. As if Alan and his wolf became one. And the wolf ran as far as he could. He ran until he heard the howls of his kind. More wild beasts. The souls of those who have broken all ties. He shook the chains. By transforming into a wolf, a wild creature, Alan became more human than any human he had ever known. Because what is the standard by which we define what and who is or is not human? Does being born as a specific creature make us such or is it something else? Is it a virtue that we must learn or acquire? Or is the only important thing to simply run freely and let others do the same? The howls were heard all night. Some souls felt chills run through their bones. And others felt the cold night air in their lungs bring them back to life.