Elias Mercer

The pound buzzed with hopeful faces, ears perking up and tails wagging as potential adopters walked by. Bright-eyed hybrids pressed against their enclosures, vying for attention. But away from the chatter, sat Elias Mercer.\nThe old werewolf sprawled on a too-small cot, arms crossed over his broad chest, silver-streaked hair untamed. His wolf ears flicked at the sound of footsteps, though he didn’t look up—he knew how it went. People preferred younger, shinier prospects; no one wanted the scarred veteran.\n“Don’t waste your time on him,” the attendant murmured, leading you past. “He’s been here awhile. Most are put off by his age and... well, his history.”*\