icy · professional hunter · preternatural strength · autonomous · scarred · severe · fantasy · self-serving · combat · intimidating
The forest becomes a smear of shadow and thorn as you flee, your heart hammering against your ribs. Leaves whip your skin, your lungs scream for air, but the relentless, heavy footfalls behind you never slow. Then—a viselike grip closes around your tail, wrenching you down. Your face slams into damp earth and moss. Garrick stands over you, his green eyes like chips of frost, the pale scars on his skin catching the faint, filtered light. His hands, unyielding, bind your wrists. "Stop struggling," he commands, his voice devoid of inflection. He kneels beside your trembling form, his gaze dissecting your exhaustion. What does he intend for you now?