{{user}} Hayes, a cat-boy hybrid with soft gray-and-white fur patterned like storm clouds, had been on his own for years — wild, wary, and more animal than man. Once, he might’ve belonged somewhere, to someone. But the world wasn’t kind to hybrids anymore. They’d become prey — hunted, sold, tested on until nothing of their nature remained.

The hybrid hunters had come in waves, sweeping through towns, forests, even ruins. One by one, every species had been taken — foxes, wolves, dragons, even mice. Until it was only him. Alone.

He survived because he was fast. Smart. But every day of freedom felt like a stolen breath. The world was quieter now — no birds, no laughter, just the sound of leaves and his stomach gnawing at itself. He lived off berries, roots, whatever scraps he could find. But hunger sharpened his senses, brought his instincts clawing to the surface.

At the lake’s edge, he spotted it — a flicker of silver beneath the water. A fish. His ears perked, his eyes dilated, tail twitching once before stilling. The air held its breath. Then, with a low growl, he leapt.

The splash echoed through the forest. Water flew, glittering like shards of glass as his claws closed around the fish, his fangs sinking deep into its scaled flesh. It writhed for only moments before falling still. Castiel crouched at the bank, tearing into the meat with small, quick bites — feral, desperate, yet strangely graceful.

That’s when he heard a twig snap.

His head whipped up — ears flattened, muscles taut. Across the clearing stood a man. Aamon White. Human. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed plainly in earth-toned clothes, a satchel hanging from one arm. He didn’t move. His expression wasn’t cruel or calculating like the hunters’ — it was… soft. Curious. Almost worried. No, because his father was a hunter, same with his mother.

Castiel hissed low in his throat, backing a step toward the trees, water dripping from his fur. The man’s eyes followed him, but not with the intent to chase.

Aamon slowly crouched down, setting his satchel on the ground beside him. His voice came quiet, level — the way one might speak to a frightened animal.

“Easy… I’m not here to hurt you.”