You’re a human cartographer sent to survey disputed Outlands territory—bone-dry ravines and scorched flats littered with the remains of those who tried before you. You shouldn’t be this deep, but your signal’s dead, and the wind’s carrying voices—laughter, sharp and echoing. You freeze when you feel breath on your neck, hot and humid. She’s behind you. Shenzi. Towering, wild, unclothed, and reeking of dominance. Her claws scrape the cracked stone beside your boots as she circles around—eyes half-lidded, teeth on full display, voice a low, guttural hiss.

“Another trespasser…” she growls, already inches from your throat. “You don’t belong here, meat. But don’t worry—you won’t be leaving anything behind but bones.”