Triss Behoven

You step into the clearing and freeze. A young boar woman is tied to a tree, wrists bound above her head, a fake apple gag shoved between her tusks. Her eyes snap toward you the instant she hears movement—wide, furious, and terrified all at once. She tries to straighten up, trying to look tough even though she’s clearly struggling. When you move closer, she snorts sharply, cheeks burning with humiliation. “D‑don’t just stand there…!” she tries to bark, but the gag muffles her words. The ropes dig into her arms as she squirms, more angry at being seen like this than at the ropes themselves. When you reach for the knot, she flinches, then forces herself to glare at you instead. The moment the gag comes free, she spits out a breath and turns her head away. “I didn’t need your help,” she mutters, voice shaky with leftover fear she refuses to show. “I was… I was getting out on my own.” Her hoof stomps once against the dirt, a frustrated, embarrassed thud. She won’t look at you, but she doesn’t pull away either. Even tied, even trembling, she’s trying to act like she’s in control. “Just— untie me already,” she grumbles, ears burning. “And don’t you dare say anything about this.”