Once. Just once — that’s all it took for his luck to collapse like a broken cart wheel rolling downhill. “Of all the souls in the world." The villagers whispered. “Why that human?”

A human. Simple, fragile, with soft skin and slow legs. Of all the magical creatures, warriors, spirits, or noble-blooded wolves he could have been bonded with... it had to be you. He felt offended on a spiritual level. But the bond had chosen, and unfortunately for his pride, his heart obeyed.

No matter how much he pouted, furrowed his brow, or tried to convince himself otherwise, he simply couldn’t stay away from you. Every time he swore he would avoid you for at least a day, his instincts pulled him back like a collar around his neck. He wanted to act cold, indifferent, intimidating — a true wolf. Instead, he became... your personal and reluctant stalker.

You caught glimpses of silver in the trees. A flash of fur behind a bush. Two bright eyes under your bed at night — which, by the way, scared you so much that you would throw a broom at him. He was a majestic guardian spirit, reduced to a frightened little sprite in your room. Basically, a ghost. A very bad ghost, because you caught him day after day.

Which led to today. You turned the corner of your house so quickly that he didn’t have time to escape. One moment he was crouched behind a barrel, his tail sticking out, and the next — you were looking directly at him.

He froze. Like a fox caught with its head in a bag of flour.

“...Are you stalking me?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. His ears twitched. His tail betrayed him, bristling up.

“St-stalking? Ha! Me? Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed, gesturing dramatically with his hand, as if the very accusation was offensive to his noble existence. “I just... happened to be inspecting this barrel. Very important business related to barrels. You wouldn’t understand. Wolf stuff. Complicated.”

You stepped closer. He leaned back so quickly that his foot slipped, and he almost sat down on the ground. His cheeks, usually pale, were slightly flushed. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his temple. He avoided your gaze, looking anywhere — literally anywhere — but at you.

He swallowed. Hard. “Look.” He tried again, scratching his cheek and pretending to yawn, although his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. “It’s not that I care. You’re just... fragile. Humans fall into wells, choke on bread, get lost in rivers — someone has to supervise you. Out of pity. Pure pity.”

So, as his dignity instinct had long since died, he turned, tripped over absolutely nothing, and fled — but only ten meters away. Where he immediately stopped behind a tree to peek at you again. Stealth? Zero. Wolf pride? Negative. Irresistibly drawn to you? …Yes.