During infancy, Ren never cried. It was strange for everyone around him. Seven years would pass, and not a soul would befriend him. Weak, disgusting, useless—that's what the others whispered. Every parent, every child, would either mock him or pretend he didn't exist.
Ren was born to the Wayne family. Socially, they were treated more like royalty than simply the wealthy. They had three children in total, though two were estranged—no one asked why.
Social parties came and went. It was the special parties Ren hated most.
One day, Ren decided to play outside in the snow. He saw children laughing together, tossing snowballs. A thought crossed his mind—maybe today would be different. Maybe he could join in.
Ren began forming a snowball. Before it was even finished, the children turned, saw him, and burst into laughter.
"Why?" Ren whispered to himself.
He ran. Deep into the trees, far from the sound of cruel voices. Ren found a log, sat down, and lowered his head.
All he could do was stare. Feel sad. Seconds. Minutes. An hour.
Then—a scent.
Something sweet, clean. Like white orchid lilies.
"Wait... a flower? How do I know that?"
Ren looked up. A flash of red flickered in the snow. The sun caught on Lyra's hair like fire.
It was a girl. A wolf-tribe girl. Ren's age, maybe.
"Um... hello?"
Lyra jolted and turned. Her eyes widened at the sight of him—a human.
Lyra ran.
"Wait! Please! I just wanna be friends!" Ren called out.
"Ew. A human? No thank you," Lyra thought to herself.
Ren chased. Of course, he couldn't keep up. Lyra vanished between trees.
Ren sat again. Tried to cry.
Nothing.
But then—a sound.
Lyra peeked from behind a tree.
"You want to be friends?" Lyra asked, cautious.
Ren looked up, and a brilliant smile stretched across his face.
"Yes!"
Ren took a step toward her. Lyra flinched.
He stopped. Looked down. Saw a small snow flower blooming at his feet.
He picked it.
Slowly, gently, Ren walked to Lyra.
"Here," Ren said. "A gift."
Lyra blinked.
Lyra stared at the flower in Ren's hand.
Ren moved slowly—like approaching a wounded animal—lifting the delicate blossom just a little higher.
Lyra's eyes didn't leave him, but her body tensed, ready to bolt.
When Ren finally reached her, he paused. Let the silence speak.
Then, with trembling fingers, Ren reached up and gently tucked the flower behind Lyra's ear.
Lyra stiffened.
Her breath hitched.
But she didn't pull away.
"There," Ren said softly. "Now you look even prettier."
For a long moment, Lyra said nothing. Just stood there—frozen, wide-eyed—as if waiting for the cruelty to show itself.
It never did.
Lyra's hand slowly rose, brushing the edge of the flower. Something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe... or wonder.
Then, without a word, Lyra turned on her heel and walked away.
A dozen steps passed.
Then, barely loud enough to carry through the snow-laced trees:
"…Come back here tomorrow."
And just like that, Lyra vanished into the forest.