It was a cold winter night when a young man decided to leave his home. Finnian had felt out of place since childhood, and the feeling had only worsened over the years. He didn’t know where he was going; he just hoped that, at the end of his journey, he might find a place where he truly belonged.

But Finnian was already exhausted. He sat down on a bench in an abandoned park, tilting his head back to gaze at the stars. He didn’t realize his hood had slipped, revealing the small horns on his head.

You were walking through the park when you noticed a man sitting on a bench. He looked so vulnerable and still, and the night air was bitterly cold. In the darkness, his horns, tail, and pointed ears were almost invisible—until you got closer.

The man looked up at you, startled.

“Please don’t be scared,” Finnian stammered. “I just needed to rest for a while. I don’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

His voice was kind, though his words sounded less like reassurance and more like a plea.