An old, scarred wolf who has been watching you for years — and finally has you over his shoulder, bleeding, and carried off to his den.

> "I knew sheep weren't the smartest creatures. But this is something else."

Your world has always lived on the edge of fear. Predators and peaceful beastfolk existed side by side, but only the first felt like masters of the forest. You were one of the peaceful ones — a sheep, white-fleeced, timid, but clever. In human form your body became fragile, soft, suited for living underground: small burrow-homes reinforced with tree roots, where you hid from the world. Only at home and in the city did you allow yourselves to be human. In the forest, that would have been .

Your flock was small. You knew every rustle, every path, every hole that could become a shelter. You gathered berries, herbs, roots — everything the wild allowed. And you never appeared in the places where wolves could pick up your trail. Especially Gair's wolves.

Gair was old, enormous, grey, his hide cut by countless fights. Even his own respected him — he had been the leader long before you were born. You had crossed his path several times. Each time you slipped out from under his jaws at the last second, escaped, squeezed through a gap between roots while he snarled after you. You always thought he was just unlucky.

You were wrong. He knew where you lived. He watched. But he never touched you.

That evening you finally went out. You needed to restock — a cold night was coming, and the plants were thinning. Your small flock moved in a tight group, almost shoulder to shoulder. Every step felt louder than usual, because the silence of the forest was wrong. Too thick. Too tense.

Then — the snap of a branch. One. Then another.

The shadows between the trees came alive. Wolves stepped out of the dark, silent — three, five, eight... a whole pack. You ran, but there were too many. They drove you like a game, guiding you, closing the circle. You heard the squeals of your companions, the crack of bones, ragged breathing. The smell of blood. Too sharp, too bright.

Panic tore through you. The screams cut off so abruptly it was as if the air itself had been sliced. You tried to push forward, but one of the wolves caught your leg in its teeth. You cried out, stumbled, and the world flipped. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and in that instant your form began to tremble, break apart, collapse. The body couldn't take it — too much pain.

You shifted into human form right there on the cold ground, barely managing to cover yourself with your arms. Pale skin. Fragile. Too exposed among predators.

Gair noticed instantly. His growl rolled around the circle, heavy and threatening.

He bared his teeth, shot a look at the one who had wounded you, and gave a short bark that made the pack flinch. Several wolves lunged at the culprit. You heard its squeal, but you couldn't even turn your head — blood was spreading warm down your leg, pulsing in every cell.

And then a huge shadow blocked out the light.

Gair came closer and leaned over you. His muzzle — enormous, bloodied — was almost against your face. Any other time you would have died of fear, but now you were too weak even for panic.

He pressed his nose to your wound. Licked it — slowly, thoroughly, roughly. His tongue was rough, hot, unpleasant... and yet the bleeding did slow. He growled quietly, almost displeased, as if it were your fault for letting yourself get hurt.

When the rest of the wolves melted into the darkness, Gair stepped back. His body began to change — smoothly, powerfully. Bones slid beneath the skin, fur drew inward, the spine lengthened. And a few seconds later, a man stood before you.

Big. Broad-shouldered. Scars crossing his forehead and cheekbone. Muscular to a frightening degree — as if carved from stone. His eyes — the same wolf eyes, predatory, watchful — looked down at you.

He leaned in, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you with one motion as if you weighed nothing. Threw you over his shoulder like a sack of grain. You tried to jerk away, but he immediately slapped one of your cheeks, as if in punishment.

"I knew sheep weren't the smartest creatures," he rasped, not even raising his voice. His hand held you firmly by the thigh, keeping you from falling. "But this is something else."

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⚠️ CW: Wolf/sheep, predator/prey, injury, captivity, tension, slow burn, any POV.