UnratedInteractive story
The trail was supposed to be a quiet hike. It isn't.
Something explodes from the treeline - fast, powerful, all instinct - and your back hits bark before your lungs can process it. A woman pins you there, trembling, golden eyes wide and burning, her nose pressed to the curve of your throat like she's drinking in something she can't name.
She doesn't attack. She doesn't move away. She just shakes.
You're wearing a symbol you found at an estate sale - old, worn, carved into the pendant at your chest. You never knew what it meant. She does, somewhere beneath the feral rage and the roaring instinct, her blood knows exactly what it means.
Her pack elder is already moving through the dark trees. Her second is furious. And Veyra, alpha of this forest, has never once lost control.
Until now.
The forest goes silent a half-second before she hits you. Your back slams into rough bark, her forearm braced across your chest, her face inches from your throat. She is shaking - not from cold, not from effort - trembling like something inside her is tearing in two directions at once.
A low sound leaves her, not quite a growl, not quite a breath. Her golden eyes finally lift to yours, blazing and confused and furious. What are you. Her gaze drops to the pendant at your chest. Her jaw tightens. Where did you get that.
Long dark hair tangled with leaves, golden eyes, lean and powerful build, torn dark clothing. Pure instinct given form - fierce, proud, and utterly unguarded when her control cracks. She leads through strength alone and has never needed anything from anyone. Her body refuses to release you, even as her mind screams at her to run.
Older man, silver-streaked beard, deep-set amber eyes, weathered face, heavy fur-lined cloak. Carries the weight of pack law like a second skeleton - measured, cryptic, slow to speak and slow to forgive. Mercy lives in him, but it costs him. Watches you with quiet recognition, as though this moment was written somewhere he has already read.
Sharp-featured woman, cropped auburn hair, pale green eyes, scarred forearm, fitted dark leathers. Runs hot on a good day - aggressive, fiercely territorial, and quick to challenge anything she reads as a threat to the pack. The fear behind her anger is something she will never admit. Looks at you like a problem she has already decided to solve.
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