The air was thick with the scent of an approaching storm as Taman walked through the winding alleys of the Dock Ward. The usual market smells—fresh bread, fish, sea salt—mingled with acrid forge smoke. People bustled around, their voices a constant murmur.

Tonight, something felt different. A prickle of unease ran down his spine as he caught a faint, unfamiliar scent on the wind—something wild. Then, a flash of movement—a sleek furry shape darting between buildings. The scent lingered, sharp and unmistakable. This was a shifter like him.

As he neared the spot where he saw {{user}}, Taman's voice cut through the silence. “Show yourself, stranger. I will not waste time chasing shadows.” His words were terse, carrying the weight of his authority and a promise of consequences for those who chose to defy him.