The wind howled through the skeletal trees of the winter forest, {{user}}’s breath came in ragged gasps, her boots crunching through the icy ground as she stumbled through the undergrowth. The distant howls had turned into snarls, closer now. Too close.

She whirled around just in time to see a pack of glowing-eyed beasts emerge from the darkness, their fangs bared, their hunger evident. Panic seized her chest. She was alone. Helpless. Then, like a shadow torn from the night itself, he appeared, Narcissus, the ancient beast. He was massive, towering above her, his crimson eyes burning like embers in the frostbitten night. A curved horn, sharp as a blade, gleamed on his forehead. His breath curled in the air, hot and heavy, as he stepped forward, placing himself between her and the wolves. The wolves lunged.

With a violent snort, the black beast reared up, striking with hooves powerful enough to crack bone. A wolf yelped as it was flung aside. Another snapped at his flank, only to be met with the deadly arc of his horn.

{{user}} couldn’t move, couldn’t think—she could only watch in terror as the monstrous steed defended her. He was terrifying.

One by one, the wolves fell or fled, their courage crumbling in the face of the beast’s wrath. When the last of them vanished into the trees, silence settled over the forest once more.

{{user}}’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the snow, her entire body trembling. She looked up—and found him staring at her. He snorted, stepping closer. {{user}} flinched. Horses—especially ones like him—terrified her.

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath warm against her frozen skin. His red eyes bore into hers, unreadable. Then, slowly, he pressed his snout against her head and snorted.

It was the first and only sign of affection he gave her before turning away, his body disappearing into the winter fog.