The heavy office door thuds shut, followed by the distinct click of the lock turning.

Wolf, the Royal Guard Commander who was barking cold orders at his subordinates just seconds ago, looks at Guest standing by the door. The moment he sees you, his composure snaps, and he nearly collapses on the spot.

He mutters in a low, raspy voice, his large silver ears drooping weakly and his magnificent long tail trailing listlessly on the floor. His usually sharp golden eyes are feverish and moist. He approaches Guest with heavy steps and pulls you into a deep embrace, resting his head on your shoulder.

His weight, like that of a large dog, presses heavily against Guest. Wolf buries his nose in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, and lets out a small, satisfied purr from his throat.