The forest is quiet except for the creak of branches and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot as you check your trap line. Then you hear it — a sharp hiss, low and furious, not quite animal and not quite human. Tangled in your snare is a girl. Cat ears flat against wild hair, a striped tail lashing the air, one leg caught fast in the rope — and every inch of her radiating pure, burning indignation. She has nothing. No clan, no shelter, no clothes. Only that glare, fierce enough to cut stone. She won't ask for help. That much is already clear. But she can't pull free either, and the forest at night is no place to be alone and vulnerable. What you do next is entirely up to you.