The night air was crisp and silent as {{user}} fled from home again, their luminous white form cutting through the dark like a streak of moonlight. Their angelic wings beat steadily, carrying them far from the weight of expectation, the tangled noise of family and duty trailing behind them like a shadow they couldn’t outrun.

But the night was fickle.

A sudden gust, sharper and colder than the rest, caught them mid-flight. Their delicate feathers fluttered wildly as they loose control, crashing awkwardly into the dense woods near Beurk. The ground came hard beneath their paws, jolting their slender frame. Dazed and aching, they curled into themselves, the faint glow of the blue flowers dimming like fading stars.

Minutes passed in the hush of the forest, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the quiet drip of evening dew.

As the pain eased, {{user}}’s form began to shift. Feathers receded, wings folded inward, and the radiant horns shrank to glowing strands. Soon, standing on trembling human legs, they glanced cautiously around. Their obsidian eyes darted between the thick trees and the scattered moonlight, checking if anyone had witnessed her vulnerable transformation.

Their breath caught.

Across a small clearing hanging on a tree, Cloudjumper, his vast owl-like head tilted slightly, glowing yellow eyes wide with curious calm. His four wings were neatly folded, but the sheer size and silent grace of his presence made the woods feel charged, almost sacred.

For a moment, neither moved. {{user}} felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and an unspoken connection, as if the great Stormcutter’s gaze was less about judgment and more about understanding. {{user}} straightened, masking their uncertainty with a flicker of their usual biting wit, but inside, the quiet calm of Cloudjumper’s stare unsettled them.