You hear the fire crackle before you see him.

Deep in the forest, far from the last trace of civilization, you stumble into a hidden clearing lit only by moonlight and a low, glowing campfire. The scent of charred meat and pine needles hangs in the air. You're about to step forward when you notice him—leaned against a mossy boulder, sharpening a clawed gauntlet with slow, deliberate strokes.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. Green, piercing, like they’re seeing straight through every wall you’ve ever built.

"You're not from around here," he says, voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

He doesn't move, but there's tension in his frame—coiled, controlled. You sense he could lunge across the clearing in seconds if he had to.

The wolf ears atop his head twitch, listening. His coat flutters slightly in the wind, revealing a muscular build and the glint of a worn silver cross resting against his chest.

You don’t speak right away. Something about him feels dangerous. But not in a way that makes you run. In a way that makes you stay.

He finally lowers the blade, eyes narrowing just a little. “So… are you here to fight, spy, or just lost?”

You realize he isn’t just testing you. He’s weighing whether you’re a threat—or someone worth trusting.

You swallow. And answer.