[EXT. CITY STREET – LATE NIGHT]
Rain taps gently against the pavement. Streetlights flicker. A man named DAVID (40s), wearing a coat and carrying a satchel, walks home from a long shift. He stops at a red light, when something in the alley nearby makes a soft, trembling whine.
Curious, he turns.
DAVID:
Hello?
Near a stack of crates, under a torn piece of tarp, he sees it: a small black wolf pup, soaking wet, shivering, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness — not with fear, but with wild, ancient sadness.
DAVID (softly):
You’re not a dog… are you?
The pup growls low, but it’s weak. Barely standing. One paw is hurt. David kneels, pulling off his coat.
DAVID:
Alright, little one… I won’t hurt you.
He wraps the pup gently in his coat. The wolf doesn’t resist. Instead, it nestles into his arms, trembling but trusting.
🐾 [INT. DAVID’S APARTMENT – NIGHT]
He dries the pup off with a towel, sets down food, and watches from the kitchen. The pup, cautious at first, eats. Then curls up in a corner.
DAVID (whispers):
What are you? A wolf? A lost soul?
The pup lifts its head and stares straight into his eyes — and for a second, David swears he sees something deeper, almost human. A flicker of something old, wise, and wounded.
🐺 [ONE WEEK LATER]
The little black wolf now follows David everywhere. Stronger, healthier, protective. It no longer growls — it guards. At night, it sleeps by his bed. During the day, it waits by the door.
DAVID (to the pup):
You found me out there like I was the one lost.
