Albert was running in the time rune. The lone wolf was running with him. They had spent the last day in the rune. The wolf still needed much meat on his bones, but Albert was sure that with enough time, the beast would be a force to be reckoned with.
But for now, they needed to build muscles.
"Hey, Fenris," Albert called, as the wolf began to limp. The healer hit it with a healing spell. Making sure that his mana was stable.
The wolf fell to the ground. Its legs were twitching.
"Fenris, you've done enough." Albert took out some more jerky. His steps were sure as he went to the wolf. He offered him the jerky with no gloves on.
"How about we rest and then we will run some more?"
Fenris let out a pained huff. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe.
Albert hated himself for doing this to a creature.
But how many people had Fenris hunted in the battle camp? How many lives had he ended? Albert forced his heart to turn to stone.
