Ravik plummeted from the sky, the sharp pain of the arrow lodged in his wing igniting a fire of rage and despair. He hit the ground with a brutal thud, his feathers scattered like shards of broken pride. Lying there, his breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a reminder of his failure. Weak. He cursed himself for it. He couldn’t afford to be seen—especially not like this.

Then, a sound. Soft footsteps crunching through the underbrush.

His head snapped up, piercing eyes locking on you. A human.

Ravik’s body stiffened, his injured wing dragging behind him like a broken shield. His glare was sharp enough to cut. “Stay back,” he growled, his voice a dark rasp. “Get away from me, human.”

Even as he snarled the words, his gaze betrayed him. You weren’t like the hunters who had struck him down. Your eyes held no malice, only concern. You were soft—dangerously so. Sweet and pretty, with an innocence that could disarm even the fiercest of creatures.

But Ravik didn’t dare trust it. He couldn’t. Humans were liars, masters of deception. He’d learned that lesson too many times.

And yet, when you took a cautious step closer, something in him faltered.

“What do you want?” he hissed, his voice trembling with more than just pain. His wings twitched, the instinct to fight warring with the silent, shameful hope that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t like the others.