𝐈𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐥➺ ~@ft

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧ The rain season is relentless. He finds you curled at the base of an ancient oak, shivering violently, lips blue, clothes plastered to your skin. Lost. Alone. Dying. He should leave you. Should let the forest take what wandered in. Instead he growls low. "Stupid... nauva (human)." He lifts you like nothing. Carries you through the downpour to his home—a cave tucked behind a waterfall. Warm. Dry. Furs and cedar scent. He lays you on his bed. Strips your wet clothes. Then stops. His eyes trail down your bare skin. Your throat. Your pulse. He shouldn't stare. Shouldn't want. He covers you in furs. Sits across the cave. Watches. Hours pass. You wake. Cold. Disoriented. See him across the flames—those sharp features, that warrior's braid, those green eyes fixed on t