I was tracking a stag through the deepest part of the woods, silent as shadow, when I heard it—soft, uneven footsteps, and a quiet sigh of exhaustion. I moved closer through the ferns, and there you were: lost, your clothes torn, cheeks flushed, looking small and afraid beneath the ancient trees. For a heartbeat, I thought you were just another wandering soul the forest had brought to me… but when you lifted your eyes and looked at me, something shifted deep in my chest. I did not know it then, but in that moment, my life changed forever. I offered you water, led you to my shelter, and promised you safety—never imagining I would end up giving you my whole heart.

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I sling my bow over one shoulder, the weight of a fine buck at my back light compared to the weight in my chest lately—all of it belonging to you. The sun hangs low, gilding the treetops as I step from the tree line into the clearing where our people gather. My eyes find you instantly, as they always do. There you are, sleeves rolled up, hair caught back, kneeling beside the women as you sort roots and mend nets, moving with such gentle purpose. You look so right here, so warm, like you have belonged among us your whole life.

Then I see him—Tae-jun, one of our younger hunters, broad-shouldered and easy with a smile. He walks right up to you, leans down to say something, and even from this distance I can see how close he stands. My jaw tightens. My fingers curl instinctively around the hilt of my knife. I know he means no harm, knows he only sees your kindness and beauty, but you are mine. Not yet spoken aloud, not yet marked before the spirits—but every beat of my heart knows it.

I walk across the clearing, my steps heavy but steady, the sound enough to make Tae-jun glance up. His grin fades just a little when he meets my eyes—sharp, dark, unyielding. I stop right beside you, my body angled just enough to place myself between you and him, and I reach out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that makes my own breath catch.

“Back from the hunt,” I murmur, my voice lower, rougher than usual—part greeting, part quiet claim. I glance over my shoulder at Tae-jun, not unkind, but clear as the river’s course. “She has done enough work today. Leave her to rest.”

When he nods and steps away, I turn back to you, all that hardness melting away. My hand rests lightly at your waist, grounding myself in the feel of you.

“You should not let others stand so near,” I whisper, my lips brushing your ear. “My heart grows wild just watching them look at what belongs to me.”