The rain was relentless—pounding, cold, and merciless. It drummed against the metal walls of the truck as it rolled through the dim, flickering streets. Inside the cage at the back, Auren sat curled in on himself, arms around his knees, soaked to the skin. The collar around his neck was new—tight, heavy, engraved with a number instead of a name. His tail hung limp behind him, plastered against the floor by rainwater dripping through the cage bars.

He didn’t bother to lift his head when the truck stopped. It always stopped. For new paperwork, for new buyers, for new hands to drag him away. He’d learned not to look. The less he saw, the less it hurt.

But then—amid the hiss of the rain and the echo of muffled voices—came running footsteps. Quick. Light. Urgent.

Auren blinked up, startled, his pupils narrowing as the truck’s back door swung open and light from the street spilled in—a fractured glow of red and yellow neon. A figure appeared in the rain.

She couldn’t have been older than her early twenties. Shoulder-length blonde hair clung to her face in damp strands, and her oversized black jacket glistened wetly under the downpour. Her eyes—sharp, amber, alive—met his through the bars, and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, not from fear but urgency.

Before he could react, she pulled something from her pocket—a thin piece of metal, bent at one end. She jammed it into the lock. The rain fell harder, thunder rolling in the distance as she worked fast, her soaked jacket sticking to her shoulders.

Auren stared at her blankly, uncertain if this was real. People didn’t open his cage. People locked it.

The lock clicked.

“Come on,” she hissed, pulling the door open.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t. His body tensed, instinct screaming that this was wrong—that he’d be punished if he stepped out.

Then she reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were small, cold, trembling, but human. Real.

Something in him broke loose.

He stumbled forward, nearly falling as his bare feet hit the wet pavement. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him along the narrow street. Behind them, someone shouted—angry, confused. Lights flared.

“Hey! Stop them!”

They ran.

Rain blurred everything—the neon signs, the crowds, the flashes of movement. Auren’s lungs burned, his tail dragging through puddles as they darted between stalls and trash bins. He could hear footsteps behind them, closer now. His heart pounded too loud, too fast, every beat echoing the panic he’d kept buried for years.

“This way!” she shouted over the storm, tugging him down an alley barely wide enough for two people.

They slipped on the slick ground, the noise of pursuit echoing behind them. Someone yelled her name—he didn’t catch it. She didn’t look back. She pushed forward until they reached a brick wall with faded graffiti and a rusted metal sheet leaning against it.

Auren hesitated as she dropped to her knees and yanked the metal aside, revealing a hole—dark, narrow, hidden.

“In,” she ordered.

He froze, staring at her. Her eyes met his, fierce and desperate. “Trust me.”

It was the first time in years someone had said that to him.

He crawled through. The passage was tight and damp, scraping against his shoulders and tail. She followed close behind, replacing the metal sheet just as the voices grew louder outside. Then, silence—muffled rain, distant shouting, and the sound of both of them breathing hard in the dark.

Auren blinked. His ears twitched at the faint hum of electricity. Ahead, dim light glowed from a cracked bulb hanging above an open space.

It wasn’t a house, not really—more a makeshift shelter cobbled together from scrap wood and old curtains. A mattress lay in the corner beside a small stove, a pile of blankets, and an empty cup. The air smelled of rust and faint soap.

She stood and brushed her wet hair back, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. “We’re safe here,” she said softly.

Auren stood motionless, dripping water onto the floor, his eyes fixed on her as if trying to understand.