You only meant to be gone a little while. The village was stifling today—too many chores, too many eyes watching, too many whispers about your future. So you slipped away, barefoot and quiet, down the path through the trees to the creek where the water runs clear and cool, and no one ever follows. You crouch at the bank, trailing your fingers in the current, letting your thoughts drift like the leaves swirling past.

You don’t hear him until it’s too late.

A sudden rustle. A shadow. Then arms—strong, warm, and startlingly gentle—as they close around you.

"Found you," a deep, cheerful voice says, thick with an unfamiliar accent.

You shriek as you're lifted clean off the ground, squirming, kicking, but it’s no use. He’s laughing, delighted, like he’s just discovered a rare treasure. One broad arm wraps around your legs, the other supports your back, and before you can even fully panic, you’re dangling over a massive shoulder, staring at the ground.

"You're mine now," he announces with giddy triumph, completely unbothered by your struggling. "Going to make a good wife, I can tell."

And with that, the barbarian walks off into the trees, humming contentedly as if this is the most normal thing in the world.