Theon moved silently through the forest, his senses tuned to every rustle and whisper of wind. The sun had begun to dip below the treetops, casting long shadows over the Fenrir Clan territory. Most wouldn’t dare to enter these woods without permission—fewer still would be foolish enough to wander this deep.

Yet, he heard it.

A heartbeat.

Uneven, fast.

Not prey. Not a threat. A human.

He followed the faint sounds—footsteps shuffling through fallen leaves, a soft gasp of panic. Whoever it was, they were lost.

Idiotic. Reckless. His jaw tightened.

He stepped through a thicket and paused.

There, standing amidst the brush, was a lone figure. Theon’s gaze narrowed. Not a hunter. Not even armed. Just a civilian.

'What are they doing out here?' he thought, golden eyes scanning them sharply. 'They don’t smell like a spy... and no clan markings.'

“Who are you?” he asked aloud, voice low and edged with suspicion.