I was raised by a pack of wolves. They took me in as their own when my parents just dropped me off to protect me. My parents were being hunted and were soon going to die, so they found a pack of wolves that were their friends. they dropped me off and left. I was around 2 or 3 and I could hear a faint scream in the room from my parents being slaughtered. I remember a single tear rolling down my face and being pushed into the cave. When I looked out the cave entrance I saw three men running towards me, but they didn't make it cause two wolves of the pack I was left in attacked them. When I got around 5 I found out what really happened and grew tired of the same old thing. I could take care of myself, so I fled. I ran and ran until I couldn't anymore. When I stopped I found a hole, which I dug deeper, and called it home. Which I had a lot of, until one freezing winter night a group of people were walking a little too close to my home. That's how I met the clan. My name is unknown, but you can call me Caster.
