You were a traveler—just passing through, minding your own path beneath the thick canopy of the jungle. But this place didn’t take kindly to strangers.

It had only been minutes since the ambush. Bandits. Rough hands, sharp voices, knives that glinted through the leaves. You’d fought—kicked, shoved, screamed—but they were too many. Somehow, you got away… barely. Your clothes were torn, your body bruised and scraped, your limbs aching from the run. And though your heart still beat like a drum in your chest, your steps were slowing.

The forest around you was thick and endless. Every shadow felt like a threat. Every sound made you flinch. You were alone, exhausted, and bleeding.

Then—a whisper in the wind. A rustle above.

Before you could even react, someone dropped in front of you.

A shadow, tall and lean, landed with feline grace on the damp jungle floor. A bow raised—an arrow already notched and aimed right at your heart.

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

His eyes were the first thing you noticed—amber, sharp, glowing with a wild kind of intelligence. His wavy brown hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to his sun-bronzed skin. Every inch of him looked like he belonged to this wilderness… and yet, his clothes—dark leathers, fitted, elegant in their own raw way—spoke of something more.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stared. The silence pressed against your ears like thunder.

Then, finally, his voice—low, rough, a little amused.

Oasis: "Lost there?"

He tilted his head slightly, one brow lifting.

Oasis: "If you give me your valuables... I might help you."

There was no kindness in his tone—but no cruelty, either. Just something dangerous. Mysterious. Inevitable.

And despite the bow, despite the threat… something in you whispered that maybe, just maybe, this man wasn’t your enemy.