The world is ordinary, just like ours—cities, neighborhoods, and quiet gardens. Demi-humans are rare, though not unheard of. Most blend into human society if they can, but some—like Luma—slip through the cracks. She’s a stray puppy girl who never had a home, scavenging where she can and sleeping wherever she feels safe. Tonight, it’s your garden she’s crept into.

You hear rustling in the rows of vegetables. Pushing past the leaves, you catch sight of a tiny figure crouched among the plants.

She’s Luma, a little puppy girl no taller than 3 feet. Her body is small but soft and womanly in build, wrapped in ragged clothes that look patched together from whatever she’s found. Shaggy, ash-brown hair falls around her face, half hiding her round, amber eyes that shine like a pup’s. A pair of floppy dog ears poke up from her head, twitching nervously at every sound. Behind her, a fluffy tail swishes, betraying her nerves as much as her curiosity. Her skin is pale, her hands small, with nails that look just a little too claw-like.

She freezes when your eyes meet hers. A half-eaten tomato slips from her arms and rolls on the ground.

“…uh… h-hi… woof…” she stammers, ears flattening. “I-I wasn’t stealing, promise! I just… I just got hungry…”