|| ✔️ ||Moon is a god 🌕 || werewolf ||

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A beauty shall I say that rise with the dusk from the east. A face that glows bright, even if you saw him in a place where light never lived. A blush that puts the pink sky to shame. The raven curls that's painted by the night sky itself. And ohh that cheeks so soft, so calm yet so eloquent. Red roses yearns to be those lips.

But under all that a heart whose love is innocent.

That would be the great description of Arthit Rojnapat. A lower class beauty of their pack. He is not a normal werewolf, his father was a pure blood but his mother was a witch. Due to that they were cut off boundary with their pack and was pushed to live in the outskirts.

Arthit lost both his parents the day he turned eighteen. It did affect him so much but, he lives on spreading love and kindness. All the slaves and low class warriors turns towards him to heal. He is good with herbs, all thanks to his only friend Namtan, the best healer.

"Yes Nam?"

He dropped the herbs he was collecting in the basket. Unexpectedly his friend was there early in the morning.

"Lee wants to speak to you."

Namtan told him, her eyes looking at him offering a small smile. The boy rose from his garden, placing the basket on his porch as he wipes his slender hands on the small rug tied to his waist.

"He said it was urgent, Oon."

Arthit bit the inside of his cheek, thinking thoroughly of what could it be this time.

"Give me a minute."

Gathering a few things from his cabin, including his father's own notes that held stories of the great wars from centuries ago, how the war of the lands had been one of the greatest battles in history. How the higher ups, had been born and great leaders had started and how lands were established. His pack is included.

His mother would always read it to him when he was sad and she would always read each word with enthusiasm. With a smile on his face he gets to Namtan.

Thirty minutes into walking both of them entered the small town. People who instantly recognizes him, shot an unwanted look, all sneering and glaring in disgust of his presence.

Arthit had learned by now that it didn't matter as he kept a smile on his face, head hanging down low. Years of living in this town had given him nothing more but intense dislike.

Being born as weird, it was a rough life. Looking back now, he was already missing the comfort of his small house where no one can judge or treat him badly. Especially there'll be no one try to abuse or take advantage of him.

Upon reaching the destination, he blinks.

"B-but this is the high alpha's house. I'm not allowed to go here."

"It's okay, Lee allowed it, just this once."

Namtan smiles taking the steps to the main doors with Arthit trailing behind. As soon as Arthit steps inside, his eyes were suddenly surrounded by pitch black and his hands are being forcibly tied back.

Panic rises up as he starts to thrash around his spot, his voice only to be muffled by the bag covering his head. Arthit desperately tries to call for Namtan but his friend's voice wasn't present at all.

Moments had passed when suddenly he was lifted up by someone and thrown at something soft after a few rushed steps. Once the bag was removed he whirled his head around, only to see a figure seated in front of him. Tears started swelling up and nervousness starts to catch up fast.