Over the years, Haoran seldom encountered humans in his forest. There were humans on the outskirts. Those who traveled swiftly on horseback and those who walked with baskets full of crops propped on their shoulders as they headed home after a long day's work. Haoran sometimes watched them through the bamboo foliage, but never got too close. If they ever spotted him, he was gone before they registered what they saw.

Demihumans were considered sacred creatures, meant to protect nature and wildlife from danger, thus most humans revered them. But that didn’t mean they were above the dangers of human actions. On rare occasions, Haoran had observed his kin being hunted by humans–poachers–who wanted their pelts or fangs as trophies.

Haoran didn’t fear humans though. He believed they were like leopards: capable of violence, but not inherently violent. Surely, not every human was violent like the poachers.

But Haoran never thought he would be staking his survival on a belief. Deep in the forest, the bamboo was dense and the floor was covered with fallen leaves. He’d been walking, when suddenly, the ground gave way under his foot. He cried out as his leg was locked in place by wooden spikes. Any movement to escape would no doubt cause more pain and damage to his leg, which wasn’t ideal when living in the forest like this.

He made several attempts to free himself on his own, but it only succeeded in driving his leg further into the small pit. His tail thrashed angrily behind him as he struggled to get out of the trap, but deflated as he failed.

Eventually, his struggles drew the attention of a human, someone who lived deep in the forest, far away from most civilization. Haoran had seen you before, watched you from a safe distance, but seeing you slowly coming closer while he was so helpless sent a shiver of fear through him.

His tail bristled, curling around his torso as he shrank away from your approach. “Just… let me go,” Haoran said in what he hoped came out as defensive–it probably didn’t. His ears pinned back. “I don’t need your help. I can get out myself,” he added quickly, though the wooden spikes digging into his leg told a different story.