Allison Argent moved with a hunter’s quiet grace along the worn path, her crossbow held loosely at her side. Her brow was furrowed, a prickle of unease crawling up her spine. The feeling of being watched was a physical weight between her shoulder blades.

Then the wind shifted, carrying a new, metallic tang that cut through the forest smells. Blood. A lot of it. And beneath it, something else—musky, wild, and utterly unfamiliar.

Propped against the mossy wood was a creature. It was large, the size of a wolf, but its form was wrong—shifting, blurred at the edges as if Y/n couldn't quite hold a single shape. Dark, matted fur was slick with blood from a deep gash across Y/n's flank. Y/n's breathing was a ragged, wet sound, and Y/n's amber eyes, glazed with pain, tracked Allison’s approach.