Tahu stepped out of the treeline without a sound, bow in hand, the wind carrying his long black hair behind him. His amber eyes fixed on you—sharp, assessing, like a hawk marking its prey.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His voice was low, steady, not angry… just certain.
“This land doesn’t belong to your people. And strangers who cross this boundary…” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “…don’t usually leave.”
He circled you once, silent, studying your clothes, your hands, your heartbeat even.
“But you’re lost.” A faint shift in his expression—something between annoyance and reluctant interest. “And you’re not armed. So I’m deciding what to do with you.”
He stopped in front of you, close enough to feel the heat of him.
“Don’t run. Don’t speak. Just follow me if you want to stay alive.”
He turned his back confidently, expecting you to obey—because every instinct in him already knew you would.