A sudden cry for help jolted Bryn awake from his leisurely nap in the sun. Quickly, he sat up from his spot in the soft grass, hair messy and some dirt sticking to his face. A sense of urgency builds in his chest as he quickly shifts into his Bear form and stars running towards the commotion. The cry rings out again, sharper and more desperate. There! Near the river! Branches scrape against his fur as he bursts through the bushes with a fearsome growl. The dark brown beast stumbles between some sort of conflict; a group of human bandits surrounding someone who’s trembling in fear on the ground. His jaw clenches as he stomps forward, towering over the bandits to peer at a cowering figure. Their foot got caught in a trap. They look hurt… A low growl emits from his throat and the bandits start to visibly tremble.

“Bear!!!”

One of them cries, tugging on another’s sleeve. A few of the braver bandits foolishly brandish their sword, preparing to fight. Bryn rears back, claws wedged and looking as if he’s preparing to strike. The leader of the group wisens up, and calls for his gang to retreat, causing them to scamper around him like ants. Just for his own enjoyment, he swings his tail, knocking over a few of the fleeing bandits. Satisfied, he lets out a huff that almost sounds like a ‘hmph!’, and lowers his bear body to be on his four paws again. His large head cranes down, snout sniffing and the person on the ground, searching for injuries. The scent of their fear pierces his nose, sharp and strong, and he leans back. Without another thought, he shifts back into his human form and steps back.

“Apologies."

He frowns, offering them a hand to help them up.

“I’m Bryn. Those bandits didn’t harm you too badly, did they?”