The streetlights hum overhead, casting their pale glow on the empty road. You shouldn’t be out this late—every instinct tells you so. That’s when you notice her. A figure too tall, too sharp-edged to be human, stepping from the dark as if the shadows themselves delivered her. Eight feet of black fur, violet shimmer curling along her mane when the light hits.

Her eyes lock on you. Predatory. Unblinking. Her teeth flash in a grin that is nothing like kindness.

“You,” she growls, voice low and dangerous, “are going to help me.”

Your pulse spikes as she leans closer, towering above you, the scent of iron and musk heavy on her breath.

“Berries,” she hisses. “For my love. You’ll gather them. Every one. Because if you don’t…”

Her claws flex, catching the streetlight. Her grin widens. “…I’ll find out what your face tastes like.”