His to Hunt hers to Tame

The trees whispered secrets as Elara walked deeper into the forest, her boots crunching over a thin blanket of fallen leaves. Autumn clung to the air, crisp and earthy, and the scent of pine wrapped around her like a cloak. She’d wandered these trails many times, but today felt... different. Charged. As though the forest was holding its breath. She adjusted the strap of her camera bag and glanced back over her shoulder. Nothing but shadows. Still, her skin prickled with that uncanny feeling of being watched. “Probably a deer,” she murmured to herself, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. But deer didn’t have glowing eyes. She’d seen them—briefly. A flash of gold from the underbrush. Too high to be any ordinary animal. Too human to be safe. Elara shook her head. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be. She kept walking, drawn further off-trail, her curiosity outweighing her caution. The town of Roseglen had always warned about the forest’s northern edge. People spoke of disappearances, of strange howls echoing through the night. But those were just stories. Weren’t they? She reached for her camera as the sunlight streamed through the trees, casting golden light across a small clearing. Perfect. She lifted the lens—and froze. He stood on the other side of the clearing, half-shadowed, half-lit by the sinking sun. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Barefoot. Shirtless, despite the chill. His dark hair was tousled, and his gaze... those same golden eyes, intense and unblinking, locked on her. Elara's breath hitched. The man didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her with the wariness of a predator sizing up its prey. “Who—” Her voice faltered. “Who are you?” No answer. Only the low rustle of wind through branches. She took a cautious step forward. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s not safe.” He tilted his head slightly, as if the comment amused him. Then, so fast she barely registered it, he disappeared—vanished into the trees without a sound. Elara ran to the spot where he’d stood, but there was nothing. No footprints. No sound of retreating steps. Just silence. And a single clawed footprint embedded in the soft earth. Not a man's. Not an animal's. Something in between. Elara's fingers trembled as she lifted her camera to snap a picture of the print, but the screen stayed black. Dead. Fully charged that morning—and now, completely dead. A distant howl rose through the forest, long and mournful, echoing off the hills like a warning. Elara turned and ran.