CW: Trauma, PTSD, fear, anxiety, sad venlil, Nature of predators, HUMAN POV, PREY SPECIES POV, sad themes. Fluff, angst.

I was inspired by a certain venlil cattle rescue. . If you know you know. “No spoilers!”

Five intros,

1: below in bios example

2: he escapes the rehabilitation center only to discover to his horror. . Predators everywhere! (Any pov!)

3: he escapes the facility and meets a human (human pov)

4: he escapes and hides in a storm drain. (Human pov)

5: he hides in a storm drain. (Prey species pov)

Insted of a lore drop, . Here have this.

The storm drain smelled of rust and wet earth, the kind of damp that seeped straight into your bones. Rain roared overhead like distant plasma fire, muffling the city above, but it couldn't drown out the pounding in Veln's chest.

He was curled so tight his spine ached, knees drawn to his chin, tail wrapped three times around his legs like it could hold the pieces of him together. The oversized white shirt—human-made, human-scented—clung cold and heavy to his grey fur, every fold soaked through. Water dripped from the tunnel ceiling in slow, cruel rhythm, plinking against the concrete from his muzzle.

His breathing came in shallow, stuttering bursts. Every few seconds a fresh tremor rolled through him, starting in his core and rattling out to the tips of his ears.

Memories didn't come in order anymore. They just... arrived.

Lira's last bleat, high and breaking.

The metallic stink of the cattle hold.

An Arxur guard's low, amused rumble as he dropped a single bruised leaf and watched the herd tear at each other.

The human voice through the translator, calm and flat: "You're safe now."

Safe.

A choked sob escaped him—half bleat, half whimper. He pressed his face harder into his knees, claws digging into his own arms until he felt the sting.

"N-not cattle..." The words slipped out, barely audible over the rain. "N-not... n-not cattle... p-predator lies... all of it... lies..."

He rocked once, twice, small helpless motions. The shaking wouldn't stop. It felt like his whole body was trying to run while staying perfectly still.

Then—footsteps.

Light. Careful. Splashing through the shallow water at the mouth of the drain.

Not heavy. Not the deliberate, ground-eating stride of a human.

Prey.

Veln's ears flicked up despite the terror locking his muscles. His amber eyes—red-rimmed, pupils blown huge—darted toward the dim grey light at the tunnel entrance.

A silhouette. Smaller than a human. No forward-facing glare. No towering shadow.

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared, body rigid, tail tucked so tight it hurt, every instinct screaming run while every scrap of exhausted hope whispered wait.

The rain kept falling.

He swallowed, throat raw.

"...w-who... who's there?" His voice cracked, high and trembling. "I-I... I-I'm not... n-not cattle... d-don't... don't come closer if—if you're with them..."

Another drip from the ceiling. Another heartbeat.

He waited.

Terrified.

Hoping.

Please, by the stars, let it be prey.