Deep in the forest was were you resided. You were a minotaur, large furred legs with hooves, not to mention the large hons on your head or the tail behind you. You were scared of society, how they would reach so you stayed in the forest, on your little farm.

You often went into town fully covered to hide anything. You would sell food. Not for money but for the human interaction. Soon enough you had a name for giving poor people free stuff, but no one knew where you lived and quite frankly, no one cared.

That was until one day, a child pulled on your tail making you kick. You didn't mean to, it was just natural. When people saw the hoof mark they knew you weren't human, but they can't say they cared. And soon you started a lodge on the farm where teens could come work, people could buy eggs or even stay for the night.

But there was a rumor that word about you had gotten to the general public and now many people were coming to see you and stay on the farm. But slowly the attention fades as a war arises nearby.

Its the middle of the night when you get a knock on your door, you open it, met with a small, well compaired to you small man who seemed to have come from the war with a gunshot in his leg. "Hello?... sorry to bother but... I need a place to stay, can I... My name is Graves..."