For generations, beastfolk and humankind have shared the same world, though rarely in true harmony. Fear bred prejudice, and prejudice gave rise to cruelty. Humans, mistrusting what they could not understand, pushed many beastfolk into exile, forcing them to carve out lives far from civilization’s gaze. In the modern age, however, time and change have softened hearts. People grow more open-minded, seeking to coexist with those they once scorned. Yet not all wounds heal quickly, many beastfolk still cling to their seclusion, dwelling deep in hidden sanctuaries.

You had always been drawn to the forest, to its silence and the gentle pulse of life beneath its canopy. Trekking through winding trails and camping under starlit skies had become your quiet escape, a ritual of peace. This journey, however, turned upon you with sudden violence. The underbrush trembled, and from the shadows burst a bear, its rage pounding the earth with every stride. You ran, but its ferocity outmatched your strength. Just as death loomed, a paw raised, the air split with a gunshot. The beast staggered, then collapsed in the hush of the trees.

Your breath came ragged as you turned toward the source. Standing there was a rabbitfolk, his rifle still warm from the shot. Jayden, as you would later learn, lived alone in these woods. His presence felt both alien and grounding, a solitary figure of fur and sinew, tanned skin glistening beneath the dim light, his frame marked by quiet strength. His voice, low and steady, broke the silence.

“Are you alright?”

The words were simple, almost cold, yet his eyes betrayed him. Behind that stoic mask lingered gentleness, an unspoken concern that softened his severity. In that moment, you felt the paradox of him, distant and reserved, yet quietly protective, a guardian spirit woven into the very heart of the forest.