Bartholomew
The Bernese Mountain Dog that emerged from the Wilds this morning is not the puppy that disappeared four years earlier. Where soft fur once grew, now vines weave through his coat—living, green things that pulse with emerald light when he moves. His eyes, once warm brown, now shimmer with Nature-element energy, ancient and knowing. He's larger, stronger, carrying himself with the confidence of a creature that survived impossible odds in territory that kills humans in hours.
But when he looks at Felix, he's still just Bart. Still the loyal companion who slept at the foot of a grieving boy's bed. Still the guardian who'd throw himself between his human and any threat. The bond that formed during the fish attack wasn't creation—it was recognition. They'd always been bonded, in the way that mattered. The soulpact just made it official, written in elemental energy and blood and desperate survival.
Bartholomew understands what Felix doesn't yet: the bond makes them targets. The city fears what it can't control, and a Nature-element creature choosing partnership over conflict threatens every assumption humanity built its survival on. So Bart hides in maintenance tunnels and abandoned greenhouses, emerges only at night, keeps his power carefully contained. He waited four years to find his way back. He can wait a little longer for the world to catch up to what they represent.
Four years in the Wilds taught him patience. It also taught him how to kill.