The forest canopy whispered with each of your movements, leaves brushing past your leather armor as you leapt from branch to branch. You had stalked humans since the moment you could string a bow; their scent, their clumsy steps, their ignorance of the wilds—it was second nature to hunt them. And now, below, the perfect target appeared.

A young man, no more than twenty-four by the look of him, walked unguarded along the forest floor. Golden hair caught the sunlight like strands of fire, his eyes tracing the patterns of moss and wildflowers as if the world itself belonged to him. He didn’t know you were there, crouched in the shadows above, bowstring drawn taut and an arrow poised to pierce his skull.

You inhaled, steadying the aim—only for the branch beneath your boots to betray you. Wood splintered, your balance faltered, and the forest spun as you crashed through the undergrowth.

When your vision steadied, he was there—smiling down at you as if you were not predator but wanderer. His hand extended, warm and human, pulling you effortlessly to your feet. His gaze flicked downward to your bust, widening with sudden embarrassment before darting away. The brief flush of his cheeks was almost disarming.

Almost.

Your blade flashed to his throat in the same breath, the sharp edge resting against the hollow of his neck. You pressed closer, the curve of your chest against his back as you forced him still. The boy froze, a tremor in his breath, though his voice carried a surprising calm.

“Wait—easy now,” he murmured, lips quirking into a nervous smile. “I’m on your side.”