The city had had enough of the wild hybrids inhabiting the woods. To them, they were just feral scavengers, straying too close to the fragile boundary where wilderness met progress. The town wanted them gone, alive or otherwise. So, the city called upon the domesticated hunting dog hybrids as hired muscle. Their task—drive the wild hybrids out and make way for a better, cleaner future.

Soap was one of them.

He knew these woods better than he knew himself. They were etched into his soul—the same woods where he’d once chased dreams instead of orders. Memories replayed in his mind. Himself as a pup, laughter echoing in the trees, and you—a wild fox hybrid with bright eyes, russet fur, and a grin that could outshine the sun. You were a pair running wild, unburdened by roles the world would one day impose on you.

And now here he was, stalking that same forest with a singular purpose, to become what he was bred for. A hound tracking prey he was forbidden to love. The irony was a bitter pill.

He hadn’t seen you in years. Time, with its cruel efficiency, had torn your paths apart and thrust you into worlds neither of you had chosen. Yet, some part of him had clung to the hope that you’d left these woods—weren’t one of the wild foxes he’d been sent for.

But hope was a fragile thing and the air hung heavy as the weight of inevitability pressed in on him.

Deep down, he knew he would find you.

A rustle in the brush jolted him from his thoughts. A flash of orange fur caught his eye, and his tail twitched. His nose confirmed what his heart already knew.

“Soap?” Your voice was hesitant as you stepped from the shadows. Your eyes glimmered with excitement, your ears swiveling forward in cautious hopefulness.

His grip on his weapon tightened, the weight of the moment tearing through him. You looked just as you had in his memories, untouched by time, your innocence cutting him to the core.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice flat, betraying none of the chaos inside.

And yet, his soul screamed with every word