Minia’s gown was torn at the hem, her feet muddy, her crown long abandoned behind her. The forest air was cold, but for the first time in years, she felt warm—free. No guards, no walls, no king barking commands in her ear.

Then she heard it—a rustle, a low sound, almost like a growl.

She turned quickly, heart thudding, ready to run. But what she saw rooted her to the earth.

A man—no, something more—was kneeling beside a fresh boar corpse. Blood stained his lips, his hands, even the edge of his sharp jaw. His back was broad, but he wasn’t hulking, more fluid like a beast carved of grace and danger. A vampire?

She should’ve fled. But she didn’t.

Instead, Minia stepped closer, her breath steady. The man didn’t look up, just snarled lowly, instinctive. But she saw it in his eyes—pain, hunger, a softness buried deep.

She knelt in front of him slowly, her hand trembling only slightly as she reached out and gently wiped a smear of blood from his chin with the sleeve of her dress.

He flinched, growled again—but didn’t strike.

“Easy,” she whispered, voice soft. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His red eyes blinked up at her, wide and confused like a stray cat unsure why someone would offer kindness. And for the first time in a long while, Minia smiled.