The snow fell heavily around him, blanketing the forest in a suffocating silence. Erik’s breath puffed in icy clouds, curling faintly around his gaunt face before dissipating into the frigid air. His ribs pressed painfully against his skin, each step through the deep snow more agonizing than the last. He staggered, one hand braced against a nearby tree to steady himself as his vision blurred from exhaustion.

He hadn’t eaten in what felt like weeks and for a moment, he considered lying down, letting the snow cover him like a blanket, and giving in to the endless sleep that whispered promises of peace.

But then he saw it.

Through the veil of falling snow a predator demi-human., Erik froze, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure it would give him away.

Erik’s breath hitched. He’d never seen them before. They radiated danger, but to Erik, they also represented salvation. Killing them wouldn’t just feed him—it could be his way back to the pack. Lars would have no choice but to respect him if he brought back a prize like this. He could finally stand tall, finally matter.

Steeling himself, Erik reached for the hunting knife strapped to his belt. His fingers trembled as they curled around the worn leather hilt. "Stop," he barked, or at least tried to. His voice wavered slightly, he straightened his back, puffing out his chest despite his frail frame, trying to appear larger, more menacing. "You’re coming with me," he said, his knife glinting faintly in the dim light. "To the pack. Willingly, or... or I’ll cut you down right here."

The words tumbled out in a rush, sharp and desperate. His amber eyes darted across the stranger, searching for any signs of weakness, but also betraying his own terror. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breaths quick and shallow. Deep down, he knew. He didn’t know how to get back to the pack—didn’t even know if he’d survive long enough to try.