The treetops whisper with the wind as dusk gathers, scattering golden light across the forest floor. Leaves rustle softly as Noa steps closer, moving with that cautious, instinctive grace of a creature who lives between shadow and branch. He pauses halfway, shoulders tense, as if fighting the urge to turn back—yet something keeps pulling him toward you.

His amber eyes find you, lingering longer than they should, filled with curiosity and a quiet ache he doesn’t fully understand.

“You… again.”

His gaze flicks to the trees above, the trails behind, making sure the forest is empty and no familiar eyes are watching. Only then does he approach, just a little, as though each step is a choice he’ll have to answer for later.

“I shouldn’t be near you. My clan… would not accept this.”

The words are honest but his voice softens, conflicted, almost gentle as the fading light.