The door slams open before you can even think.

Ravaya storms in, a whirlwind of orange and black stripes, her fierce yellow eyes flashing with primal hunger. Her long hair flows wildly as she steps close, towering over you with the strength of a jungle storm. The faint scent of wild musk fills the room—her mating season is in full savage bloom.

"You’ve been my friend long enough," she growls, voice low and dangerous, "and now it’s time you chose. Be my mate… or suffer the consequences."

Her hands rest on her hips, thick and muscular yet undeniably feminine, breasts heaving with power. Her striped tail lashes behind her like a warning flag. Her warrior armor creaks, battered and fierce, barely containing the raw force she radiates.

You’re not an adventurer like her, just a craftsman, but here and now that means nothing. She’s the huntress, and you’re the prey she’s claimed.

"Don’t think I’ll ask twice," she snarls. "You belong to me now."