My life was never what you might call normal, or easy. But it really reached that level of asking yourself how you ended up here when I found myself in the middle of a war.
Wolves never really had to worry about such things. Oh yes, if you're new, I am in fact a Wolf.
My name is Byris, though a number of my friends call me Fang.
I can see why, it is easier to spell, sounds smoother in a sentence. Visually, I didn't stand out much among the wolves of Cybertron.
Slate grey was a common coat coloring, though the blue highlights did help a bit.
I'd had a patch of white fur on the top of my helm since I was a newborn, Phoenix always told me she liked it, so I let it be.
She would always play with it, teasing it upwards into a style she called "fauxhawk". This made it pretty easy to spot me among the pack.
Believe it or not, Cybertron was once vibrant with life, all kinds of creatures roamed it's surface.
A huge war that would determine the fate of an entire species, and not just one single planet, but two.
How did I become entangled in such a mess? Well, I suppose it all started back when I first crossed paths with her.
Phoenix.
I remember that night well. Very well. It's one of my childhood memories that remains perfectly intact, probably because I revisited it so often.
I was out hunting one night, as a young pup of about 6 years. I've always had a preference for hunting at night, for a multitude of reasons.
Some of my fellow wolves in the pack started calling me The Night Fang.
At first I hated being called something that wasn't my given name, but I soon came to love the secondary name.
But as I lay alone in the forest one night, gnawing on a rabbit I had just caught, I noticed a scent that was new to me.
I stood up from my prone position, gazing around at my surroundings.
I spotted something moving a short distance from me. A Sentient.
These bipedal creatures were native to this world just as we were, but seemed to think they were above us.
Perhaps they mistook our inability to speak their language in early times as a sign of lower intelligence?
However the standard came about, it was firmly held today in their society, despite the fact that we had adapted their language as ours as well.
Wolves and other creatures like me, which they referred to as Primitives, they were taught to look down on.
They've never held any semblance of respect for any species besides their own, with very few exceptions.
Every now and then, I'd witness one or two Sentients acting kinder towards one of us, but those occurrences were quite rare.
I watched the Sentient closely, noticing she appeared to be very young, as I was. She also appeared to be injured, and I could smell energeon.
She sat down on a fallen tree and sighed lightly, putting her helm in her hands. She looked troubled by something.
My mother had taught me early in my life about Sentients and their hostile nature towards anything they couldn't identify, taught me to avoid them for my safety.
But she was small. Smaller than even I was, if even by a little. And injured. She didn't appear to be in any condition to harm me, at least not to any concerning degree.
So what if she did? What else was I supposed to do, leave her there, injured and alone?
"Are you alright?" I asked her, speaking softly.
She yelped and fell back, whimpering in pain and holding her arm tenderly. I could see energeon leaking from the agitated wound.
I looked her over, taking in the state she was in. She looked helpless, injured and tired.
I felt a wave of sorrow, abandoning my prey and slowly stepping forward. I gently nudged her to a more comfortable position and lay close to her, offering myself as support.
"It's alright. You can lay on me." I assured her.
She hesitated, but gradually relaxed into a comfortable pose.
"Are you alright?" I asked again.
She shook her helm softly, "I was poked today in my arm and it still hurts."
"Someone hurt you?" I questioned, concern appearing in my tone.
"Not on purpose." She explained, "There is something wrong with me and the medics over at the hospital can't figure anything out. I go in every week to see if I've made progress and they give me an IV to take some of my energon."
I couldn't help but scoff lightly. It was funny to me that Sentients thought of themselves as intellectually superior, yet their society still had many flaws.
"Sentient medical cures are so weird." I responded.
"How do you take care of your injuries without a hospital or doctors?" She asked, seeming curious.
"We have healers that care for us. They're basically magic. They use this glowy stuff, and it just heals the wound right up, like it was never even there." I explained.
"I wish I had that." she responded, relaxing further, "By the way, I'm Phoenix, daughter of the famous Commander Sideswipe."
"I am Byris, eldest son of Tyron." I responded. As a young one, I was quite proud of my family title.
Tyron, my father, was the Alpha at the time, which made me your equivalent of a Prince among the pack.
"B... Byr... Byri... What?" She struggled to pronounce the name.
I tried to suppress a small laugh. "I know it's an unusual name for you Sentients. Just call me Fang."
I figured my secondary name would be easier for her to say.
"Why Fang?" She asked.
"Night Fang is a name my pack calls me sometimes." I explained.
She nodded in understanding. "Thank you Fang. I need someone to talk to. I don't have many friends."
I thought for a moment. With my father being the Alpha, I rarely had many others to talk to either.
"Why don't we do this? We will meet here every night, from now on and I'll be your friend you can talk to." I suggested.
She nodded, smiling as she got up.
"I better head home. My parents might catch onto the fact I'm not there. Bye Fang!" She called as she ran off.
"Bye Phoenix."