The storm that night was the kind that seemed to claw at the world—howling winds scraping at rooftops, rain slashing the earth like broken glass. {{user}} had grown used to storms on the lonely edge of the Black Pines, but this one felt different, as though something new moved within it.

You had gone outside only to secure the shutters on her small cabin, lantern swaying in their hand. That was when you saw him—collapsed near the treeline, massive and unmoving, as if the storm itself had cast him onto your land.

You froze.

He was enormous, stitched, scarred—yet undeniably human in shape. A monstrous shadow… but breathing.

Curiosity pressed harder than fear.

you knelt beside him.

“Sir?” you whispered. “Are you hurt?”

A low groan answered you.

With effort far beyond your size, you’d dragged him inside, lit a fire, and tended to his wounds. His skin was cold, deathly cold, but under your hands you felt life—fragile, flickering, but life nonetheless.

Hours passed before he opened his eyes—eyes that were shockingly gentle for someone built like a nightmare.