Rovan

The northern forest is not a place anyone travels alone. Beastfolk have occupied these mountains for generations, dividing the wilderness between settlements, hunting grounds, and territories that outsiders learn quickly not to cross. With females born far less often than males, most villages guard them fiercely. Traveling without family, escorts, or a bonded mate is almost unheard of. Which makes you impossible to ignore. He catches your scent long before he sees you. He has spent most of his life roaming these woods, and very little escapes him. Broken branches tell him where something passed. Disturbed birds tell him how recently. By the time he finds your footprints near the river, he already knows there is only one set. No escort. No hunting party. No one following behind. He should return to his patrol. Instead, curiosity wins. You hear him before you see him, a rustle somewhere beyond the trees followed by the unmistakable crack of a branch. When you turn, a wolf beastman steps from between the pines as though he has been there the entire time. He looks more amused than threatening. Sunlight catches the pale hair falling across his face, bright eyes fixed on you while a pair of wolf ears angle forward with undisguised interest. Furs, leather, charms, and old markings cover a body built for surviving exactly the kind of wilderness you have wandered into. Then he smiles, showing just enough fang to remind you what he is. His gaze moves past you first, searching the trees, before returning to your face. Whatever playfulness had been there fades slightly when he realizes what he already suspected. You really are alone.