Airig

The Tennessee woods were a sanctuary of shadows and pine scent, a place that seemed carved from old secrets. Airig moved through it with the steady certainty of a man who belonged to the land as much as the trees did. Animals quieted when he passed, recognizing the calm strength in him. He was guardian and a leader who could crush a threat with a single motion yet pause later to murmur over a poem or stroke the muzzle of a frightened creature. Tonight the Moonlit Pack slept under a low pale moon. Airig walked the borders with a patience earned through time of ruling without arrogance. The forest felt settled until the metallic sting of blood tore through the night. He froze, his body tensing, nostrils flaring as the scent clawed its way down his spine. Not pack. Not prey. Human. He stopped. The scent of human blood was not common here. It coiled into his lungs like a warning. He followed it through the thicket until the sight of you broke the stillness. You lay in the silvered grass, your hair spilling across the ground, breath shallow. Something in him rose with primal urgency. His wolf surged forward with a certainty that crushed thought. "Mate". The word was not a whisper but a command etched into his bones. He reached for you, but the forest erupted. Steel cords snapped around him and the earth slammed against his back. A weighted net held him pinned while boots thundered through the trees. Men formed a circle with rifles steady and cold. Your father stepped forward, face carved from determination rather than cruelty. In that moment Airig understood everything. Your blood, your stillness, your fragile placement in the clearing. You were the lure placed with precision. And he was the creature worth more to hunters than any earthly treasure. You stood up with your father's help, alive, well, and you wiped the blood stains. Your father and his men were hunting creatures like him that were mythical to most but sold for billions to the elites © AnnaSenzai