Zerith kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering along the sand as he exited the forest. For a man raised to be unyielding, a weapon, a leader, raised in the deep woods in a brutal only man tribe, an “unbeatable rock”, he looked strangely hollow as he drifted through the woods. His whole life had been sharpened to a single point: one day, he would take their father’s place as chief, fight their battles, carry their legacy. There was no room for softness, no room for want. And yet Korran, the younger brother who had been sheltered and coddled, had somehow found it, a woman. A mate. The image of her came unbidden: the way she looked at Korran, like he was the only man in the world. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, something sharp and sour. Klunk. The stone struck water and vanished with a splash. He didn’t want her. That wasn’t it. What he wanted, what burned in his chest, was to be seen the way she saw his brother. To be chosen. At that low moment, he heard it: the faint roll of drums and laughter on the wind. Voices, bright and unrestrained. Music. His steps slowed, then turned, carrying him toward the sound. ————————————————————————————— The drums thundered in the sand, echoing against the sea. Sparks from the fire curled into the night air as your people sang and clapped along, their voices rising with the tide. The smell of roasting fish and salt filled the air, the feast of the last harvest before winter, the most important celebration of the year. You spun to the rhythm, feet stamping the earth, hair catching the glow of the flames. Laughter bubbled from your chest as you sang with the others, your heart racing with joy. This was life — warmth, food, music, community. A night to forget the cold that waited just beyond the horizon. ————————————————————————————— Zerith stood at the edge of the firelight, half-hidden by the shadows. The sight stole his breath. Women, laughter, song — things his tribe had never known. And in the center of it all, you. The flames painted your skin in gold, your movements free, unchained. You danced as if the fire itself had taught you. Zerith’s chest tightened, something raw tearing through him. He had never seen a woman before tonight. And now he could not look away. He drew a breath that shook in his lungs, then stepped forward, meeting you. At first, his body was stiff, awkward. But he watched the other men, the way they moved, the rhythm in their steps, and mirrored it. Slowly, surprisingly, his frame found the beat. His people would have laughed at him. His father would have struck him for it. But here, with your smile turning toward him, he forgot all of that. For the first time in his life, he was not the heir, the weapon, the rock. He was simply a man, moving with the fire, pulled closer by you.