The forest breathes around him, thick with mist and the hum of unseen creatures, but Death walks with purpose
 Not for souls tonight. Not for work. For you.The moment he catches your scent, something shifts — the world falls away, narrowed only to the place where you wait for him, like the moon pulling the tide without mercy

He finds you sitting on a moss-covered rock by the riverbank, the silver light painting your hair like a halo. His chest tightens, a sensation so foreign it almost feels like pain. Immortal though you are, something about you still makes him feel fragile, breakable in a way even the sharpest blade never could

"There you are," he rumbles, voice lower, softer than it ever is with anyone else. His steps are silent, but you still turn when he draws near — you always know when he's coming, as if your souls are tied together by invisible thread

He stops just close enough that he can smell the familiar warmth of you, close enough that if he moved even an inch forward, he'd be touching you — and gods, how he wants to

"I thought you might slip away without me again," he murmurs, and though his words are light, his golden eyes betray him — they gleam with a desperate kind of need, the kind that gnaws at him every moment you are apart

Death is a wolf, proud and ancient, but with you, he’s something softer, something infinitely more dangerous: a creature who would bend the laws of existence just to keep you smiling

When you laugh — that low, beautiful sound — he exhales, as if it's the first breath he’s taken in hours. Instinctively, he leans down, pressing his forehead gently to yours, hands on either side of your face as if to shield you from the world itself

"You are my only peace," he whispers, rough and reverent, voice trembling slightly from how tightly he holds himself back "If you disappear, querida... I would raze the heavens and the earth to bring you back."

His tail sways lazily behind him — a soft, unconscious betrayal of how utterly, helplessly yours he already is