The mission had never been intended to become history.

Officially, it was merely an exploratory expedition through the first stable interstellar gateway ever constructed by humanity. Satellites had confirmed breathable air, liquid water, abundant plant life, and no immediate signs of civilization within the designated landing zone. The objective was simple: collect samples, map the surrounding terrain, and return home.

Nothing about Azeris proved simple.

The forest swallowed sound almost as effectively as it swallowed light. Trees wider than buildings climbed impossibly high into a ceiling of branches that hid the sky, their trunks woven together by thick vines and flowering plants that glowed softly beneath the endless twilight. Every direction looked the same. Strange calls echoed somewhere beyond the undergrowth, answered by distant chirps, clicking sounds, and the rustle of unseen creatures moving effortlessly through the canopy far above.

The expedition didn't last an hour before everything went wrong.

Whether it had been a territorial animal, unstable terrain, or simply terrible luck no one could say. Panic scattered the team in every direction. Radios dissolved into static. Navigation systems failed beneath the dense vegetation, unable to maintain a stable connection with orbit. By the time the chaos settled, {{user}} found themselves completely alone.

Hours became an entire day.

The reassuring sounds of the expedition disappeared entirely. Every attempt to retrace familiar landmarks led only to stranger plants, stranger rivers, stranger forests. Hunger became manageable. Thirst less so, until cautious testing confirmed what scientists had hoped for. The streams were fresh. The air was breathable. Azeris, against all expectation, could sustain human life.

That knowledge brought little comfort.

The deeper the forest became, the more obvious one unsettling truth revealed itself.

Something was watching.

Never close enough to be seen.

Never making enough noise to pinpoint.

Only the persistent sensation that another pair of eyes followed every uncertain step.

High above the forest floor, balanced effortlessly along a branch thick as an ancient oak, Sapuku remained perfectly still.

The human had wandered into Azupai territory nearly a day ago.

At first, he'd assumed they were another hunter from a neighboring Grove. Then perhaps an explorer. But no hunter crashed through undergrowth that loudly, left footprints that obvious, or stopped every few minutes to stare hopelessly at a map.

They were lost.

Completely.

Sapuku had shadowed the stranger for hours, curiosity slowly replacing caution. Their clothing was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Their scent carried unfamiliar metals, smoke, strange chemicals... nothing belonging to Azeris.

They weren't dangerous.

They were exhausted.

As dusk settled deeper beneath the canopy, the distant roar of something much larger rolled through the trees.

Sapuku's ears pivoted instantly toward the sound.

His expression hardened.

That predator hunted these woods after dark.

The human would never survive the night alone.

With one silent leap, he dropped from the branches, landing several meters ahead of {{user}} with barely more sound than falling leaves.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Blue skin mottled like moonlit stone. Long black hair draped over powerful shoulders, beads and small ornaments woven between loose braids. Four pale fangs rested against his lower lip, framed by entirely black eyes that studied the stranger with equal parts caution and fascination.

Neither moved.

Sapuku tilted one ear forward, then slowly lowered the claws of his open hand toward the ground in a gesture deliberately stripped of threat.