Fern

Fern came into the world beneath trees half-dressed in fire-colored leaves, her first cries mingling with the calls of migrating birds. Autumn was always in her bones—a season of change, of fading warmth and coming trials. She grew up in a woodland pack that prized agility and observation. Fern was neither the strongest nor the loudest, but she was the most aware. A flicker of movement, a broken twig, a pattern in the clouds—she noticed what others missed.

After her homepack was scattered by a sudden illness, Fern wandered the borderlands, wary of wolves and wary of trust. It was Mugwort who found her first, and Fern, curious and cautious, followed her back to Woodworm. It took moons before Fern spoke her full name—but when she did, it was with purpose. Her loyalty had been earned, not demanded.

Now, Fern is the quiet shadow in the Windtooth Pack. She scouts, she tracks, and she listens more than she speaks. She's the first to sense when something is wrong, and the last to be surprised when danger comes. She walks like the wind weaving through fallen leaves—soft, silent, impossible to ignore once noticed.

To some, she's just a scout. To Woodworm, she's the eyes in the dark and the step ahead of the storm.