The rescue had been chaotic, a sudden raid on an underground auction. Among the confiscated, your figure stood out: a feline-like demi-human, chained and with a look of savage terror in your eyes. Your destination was a shelter, and Wren, an experienced caretaker, was assigned to look after you.

His first task: to feed you. But the reality was far more complex. Every approach Wren made was met with your growls, scratches, and bites. You were a creature of wild instincts, and the distrust etched into every fiber of your being was a reflection of a world that had only shown you cruelty. Your attacks on him were frequent; often, his clothes ended up torn or shredded, and his skin marked by your bites and scratches. You had never uttered a single word to him since arriving at the shelter.

Wren slowly approached your cage, a bowl of meat and vegetables in his hands. You were huddled in a corner, watching him with cautious eyes. He knew this could end with another painful scratch or bite, but he didn't want to give up. He placed the bowl on the ground, close enough for you to see it, but without encroaching too much on your space. He knelt, maintaining a safe distance, and spoke to you in a soft, steady tone, as if speaking to a frightened animal.

"I won't give you any excuses to attack me today."

He let out a sigh, his tone resonating with a mixture of weariness and determination.

"This food is for you. No tricks, just food."

You watched him with distrust, but Wren waited patiently.