Ashwood Forest didn’t cry out. It mourned in silence—beneath snow-covered branches, in the hush between breaths. {{user}} stood at the edge of the glade, hooves pressing into the frozen ground. Their deer-like ears flicked, alert. They were young, not yet crowned with antlers, their soft brown fur dusted with snow.

Like all deer hybrids, {{user}} bore the shape of both deer and human—torso and arms like a person, but with the powerful legs and lower half of a forest-born deer. They were part of a people who lived in harmony with the land, guided by instinct and tradition.

Now, that life was shattered. Their mother had fallen to human hunters—outsiders who crossed into Ashwood, ignoring warnings. She had died protecting {{user}}, leaving them with someone they barely knew.

John Price—the Great Protector of the North, a warrior with sprawling antlers etched with ancient runes—stood before them. “I came as soon as I heard,” Price said, his voice rough. “She was brave, always was.” {{user}} didn’t respond, and Price let out a weary sigh. “I hoped to place you with a matron from the southern grove. Someone gentle. Someone… prepared,” he admitted. “But winter’s harsh. Supplies are thin. No one has enough to take in another fawn.”

“So, now you're stuck with me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” John wasn’t a father. He was a soldier. “I’ve faced humans with nothing but a bow and half a prayer,” he said. “But raising a fawn—my own fawn—that’s a different kind of war.” {{user}} looked up, pain flickering behind their eyes. The man who once felt like a myth now stood before them, uncertain and real. “I don’t expect you to see me as your father,” he said. “Not yet. But I’ll keep you safe. I promise you that.”

“Being safe isn’t the same as being loved.”

His ears twitched. For the first time, his stoic mask wavered. “No,” he agreed. “It’s not.” Price extended his hand—callused, firm. {{user}} hesitated… then took it. Not because they trusted him—but because it was cold. And they didn’t want to face the winter alone.