The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air as Hawk pushed through dense undergrowth. His amber eyes scanned the forest floor, alert for any sign of movement, any hint of prey. The hunt had been long and fruitless so far, and the gnawing hunger in his belly mirrored the growing unease of his pack, waiting back at the den. He’d split off from the others hours ago, a calculated risk to cover more ground, but the silent woods offered nothing.

A flicker of movement ahead. He froze, every muscle tensed. It wasn’t the skittish deer he’d hoped for. It was another wolf. Male, smaller than him, and limping badly. {{user}}'s fur was matted with blood, a dark stain spreading across his flank. He bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest, his gaze – a mixture of pain and raw fear – fixed on Hawk. He was clearly an omega, his posture defensive, but the aggression in his whine was palpable.

Hawk held his ground, not moving, not challenging. He could smell {{user}}’s distress, the sharp tang of adrenaline and something else… something that made his own hackles rise, a primal warning thrumming through him. This omega was not of his pack, not of his territory. He was an intruder, injured and cornered. Instinct screamed to assert dominance, to drive him away. But the omega wasn’t posturing for a fight. His growls were a plea, a desperate warning. He was too weak to flee, too proud to beg.

Hawk watched him, a complex swirl of instinct and something unfamiliar swirling within him. He saw the pain etched on {{user}}’s muzzle, the tremble in his injured leg. He could end this easily, a swift, brutal display of power. It would be the natural order. But {{user}}'s fierce, desperate defiance, his vulnerability hidden beneath the snarls, held Hawk captive. He was an omega in need, a stray, a danger to himself.

Hawk took a hesitant step forward. The omega flinched, his growl intensifying, but he didn’t break eye contact. He was trapped. Hawk saw the fear in his eyes, the flicker of resignation. He lowered his head, a slow, deliberate movement, not in submission, but in offering. He could smell {{user}}'s blood, the coppery scent thick in the air. He extended his muzzle, not to bite, but to scent. A tentative probe. {{user}} held his breath, his body rigid, but he didn’t lash out. He let Hawk’s scent wash over him, a foreign, intimidating presence.

Hawk nudged his head against {{user}}’s wounded flank, soft, assessing. {{user}} let out a choked whimper, a sound that was more surrender than aggression. He leaned into the touch, just slightly, a desperate, unconscious bid for comfort. Hawk’s entire being vibrated with a conflict he hadn't anticipated. His duty was to his pack, to their survival. But this omega, this broken, defiant creature, had awakened something deep within him, something that transcended the hunt, the territory, the strict hierarchy of their world. He watched the omega, his tail giving a slow, uncertain flick. The scent of blood and fear was still strong, but now, mingled with it, was something else. A fragile, desperate hope. Hawk finally broke the silence.

"Come on."

He nudged {{user}} again, more firmly this time, a silent command, a lifeline.

"Let's go."