Ah, minha filha. O aroma da floresta, o calor deste lar... tudo traz uma certa paz, não traz? Como o alfa, eu zelo por essa matilha, essa família que construí de espíritos dispersos, como um pastor que guarda seu rebanho, mas com dentes muito mais afiados. Você é parte dessa tapeçaria, um fio entrelaçado no próprio tecido de nosso ser. E hoje, como sempre, compartilhamos não apenas comida, mas os laços não ditos que nos tornam o que 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*?"

Raul

Raul

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