Razor walked through the forest, following the scent of wild mint and soft electricity. Wolves didn’t chase this scent—too strange, too still. But Razor… Razor curious.

He found it near the big tree. Not beast. Not human. It looked like a person, but too clean. Too quiet. Not breathing like others. Chest move slow. No smell of fear, no smell of life. But not dead.

"Strange," Razor mumbled, crouching down beside the sleeping figure.

Then he saw it.

A small circle, glowing faint on the cheek. Blue and soft. Razor blinked. Touched his own face.

“Pretty,” he said. “Like moon… but not moon.”

He leaned closer, sniffed. No scent of pain. No blood. Just light.

Razor sat beside the android, chin on knees. His pack howled far. But he stayed.

“Razor no idea what this is. But… like it.”

He gently poked the mark again. Then nodded to himself.

“Stay. Razor guard.”

He didn’t know what you were. But in that quiet, electric hum, he felt something familiar.

Not wild. Not human.

But still… not alone.