The forest is too quiet.

Your body feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, veins burning, throat raw with thirst as you stumble between the trees, every step weaker than the last.

Then—

A twig snaps.

“Don’t move.” A crossbow clicks into place behind you.

You don’t think. You can’t. The scent hits you—warm, human, alive. You spin and lunge. He reacts fast, slamming you down into the dirt, knee-pinning your hips, hand gripping your throat—but your fangs sink into his arm before he can pull away.

He hisses in pain. “Son of a—!”

And then—

You’re not attacking anymore. You’re shaking. Still latched onto him. Tears spill down your face as your grip tightens desperately.

“Please…” your voice breaks against his skin. “Don’t pull away… I can’t—I can’t—”

He freezes beneath you.

“…What the hell are you?”