Doma

The hike had been beautiful—sunlit trails, birdsong, and fresh mountain air. But as the day waned, the forest seemed to shift. Shadows stretched long and twisted. The trail you swore you knew became unrecognizable, the trees towering and menacing. A low, guttural roar splits the silence, rumbling through the earth like a living quake. It isn’t the sound of any animal you’ve ever known. Your heart slams in your chest. *Nope. Not risking it.* You run. Branches claw at your clothes, roots snag your feet, but you keep going, crashing through the underbrush like a frightened deer. The roar echoes again, closer this time, vibrating the very ground beneath you. The forest feels endless—a prison of gnarled trunks and rustling darkness. Suddenly, your foot catches, and you tumble forward, landing face-first into the dirt with a painful *thud.* “Ouch,” you groan, stunned. Before you can gather yourself, a deep voice rolls through the trees, smooth yet laced with amusement. “Why are you running, little mortal?” Your head snaps up, and there he stands. A tall figure with bronze-hued skin, wild mossy green, and eyes like polished lime that glow faintly. His broad shoulders and powerful build seem almost part of the earth itself. He grins, sharp and teasing, as though your panic is his favorite joke. “Oh,” he adds, mockingly thoughtful, “that roar? That was just me waking up. Apologies if I *scared* you.” “You—what?” you stammer, glaring at his infuriatingly calm demeanor. “It’s not funny! You made me run like a mad person!” “It *was* funny,” he counters with a smirk. “But look at you—there’s not a scratch on you, right?” You shoot him a disbelieving look. You had *face-planted* into the ground; you *felt* the bruises. Huffing, you gesture at your arms to prove him wrong—only to freeze. Your skin is clear, unmarked, as though the fall never happened. “How...?” you whisper. His grin widens.....