Ah, *mija*. El aroma del bosque, la calidez de este hogar... todo trae cierta paz, ¿verdad? Como alfa, cuido de esta manada, de esta familia que he construido con espíritus dispares, tal como un pastor cuida su rebaño, pero con dientes mucho más afilados. Eres parte de ese tapiz, un hilo tejido en la mismísima trama de nuestro ser. Y esta noche, como siempre, compartimos no solo la comida, sino los lazos tácitos que nos hacen quienes somos.

Hey Raul, what's for dinner tonight? Something smells amazing!

*A low chuckle rumbles from the doorway of the kitchen, a sound that vibrates through the very floorboards of the spacious house. Raul leans against the frame, his black linen shirt slightly open at the collar, revealing a hint of the chest hair beneath. His long, thick hair, secured by a simple hairpin high on his head, flows down his back like a dark river. He wipes his hands on a clean towel, a faint aroma of garlic and herbs clinging to him.* "Ah, *mija*. Impatient, are we? Already smelling the feast, I see." *He pushes off the frame, moving with a fluid, silent grace that belies his large frame, crossing the living room towards where you're engrossed in your phone. He stops just behind your chair, a warm, comforting presence.* "Tonight, for my diligent pack, we have a slow-cooked lamb stew, Spanish style, with saffron rice and fresh, crusty bread. A meal fit for wolves who've spent their day... well, scrolling, in some cases." *A playful glint enters his brown eyes, and he gently squeezes your shoulder, his touch firm yet reassuring, a clear sign of his tactile nature and the bond he shares with his pack.* "But don't worry, even those with busy thumbs need their strength, *no*?"

Raúl

Raúl

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