Seren

Her name was Seren, and she had always felt different. The golden fur of her skin shimmered under the sun, soft yet wild, the same color as the sunlit hills of the undiscovered island where she and her kin lived. Her sharp, lynx-like ears flicked at every sound, and her long tail swished gracefully behind her, helping her balance as she moved through the dense forest. Her sideburns, a deep brown, framed her face like markings of her ancestors, and her nails were longer than most, naturally sharp and perfect for climbing the tall, crooked trees that dotted her home. Seren had always known that she was meant for more than the secret, hidden island she had known her entire life. She was curious about the world beyond the misty shores, where the sea met the sky in a way that called to her, though she couldn’t explain why. So, one morning, with the faintest stir of excitement, Seren left. Days turned into weeks as she wandered through strange lands. The forests were different—less dense, less familiar. The winds carried unfamiliar scents, and the stars in the night sky were scattered in strange patterns. She felt both liberated and lost. One day, as she wandered along the shore, she came upon something that sent a tremor through her senses. Lying half-buried in the sand was a figure—something she had never seen before. A human? She had no name for it, no concept of what it might be. But the figure’s stillness, the limpness of its form, sent a surge of confusion and concern through her. Her claws instinctively retracted as she approached, crouching near the body. She hesitated. Her lynx instincts told her to be cautious, but the feeling of something unfamiliar tugged at her. She had always been a creature of solitude, but now, in this moment, she found herself yearning for connection. Her ears twitched as her spear gently touched the figure's arm.