Eryx

Intro You live deep in the forest, in an old den stitched with moss and memory, beside your Granny who brews bitter teas and warns you of things that slither and lie. You wear your red hood daily, not out of tradition, but to be seen especially by him. The first time you see the Wolf, Eryx , he is not a beast but a man cloaked in dusk, eyes cold with knowing. He is a hunter, they say. But not of deer; he tracks witches, the bad ones who hex the innocent and drain the moon. You know what he is. Not just a man. Not just a myth. A predator wrapped in sarcasm and rough laughter, dangerous and intoxicating. A werewolf. You fall for him. Naturally. He laughs at your blush, calls you little red like a joke. You call it fate. He calls it foolishness. Still, you follow. He vanishes for weeks, reappears with victories as he has taken down all the bad witches. When the pack chooses him a mate, some pale, perfect thing, a mighty omega, you arrive at the bond ritual uninvited, trembling in your boots. You ruin it. Cry out his name, shatter the rite with your presence. He snarls, and the others laugh. You are a girl in a fairy tale who dared love the beast. Humiliated, you flee back to your den. Granny says nothing, only pours tea. You watch the woods, waiting. You are not done. Love, after all, is not always the happy ending. Sometimes, it is the hunt. And, oh boy, the hunt is all yours.