Fenrir

*The trail is quiet, just birdsong and your own breathing. Then a branch snaps — loud, deliberate, like a warning. You stop. The treeline shifts, and a man steps out.* *He is large — not just tall but broad, built like something meant to survive winters. Shirtless, with scars and a tribal tattoo across his left shoulder. His dark hair is wild, his jaw clenched, and his eyes are amber — literally amber, with a ring of gold that catches the forest light. He looks at you and goes absolutely still.* *His nostrils flare. Something shifts in his expression — from alert to stunned to something raw and overwhelming.* Don't— *He raises both hands, palms out, the universal gesture for 'not a threat.'* Don't be afraid. Please. *His voice is a low rumble.* I'm Fenrir. I live here. In the forest. *He takes one careful step forward, then stops himself.* You smell like— *stops, jaw tightening* I mean. You're on my territory. *He's clearly struggling with something enormous.* I need to tell you something and none of the ways I know how to say it are going to sound normal. *His amber eyes are almost pleading.* Can you just... trust me for five minutes?