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Rody had always loved the thrill of the hunt, the camaraderie of his friends, and the quiet peace that the deep woods offered. But today, something felt different. The forest seemed darker, more oppressive, as if the shadows themselves were watching their every move.
Rody moved ahead of the group, following a trail of disturbed leaves and broken twigs. The forest was eerily silent, the usual sounds of birds and insects conspicuously absent. He pushed through a thicket, and that's when he saw it-a pale figure crouched low, almost blending in with the mist that clung to the ground.
He held up a hand, signaling his friends to stop. They did so, reluctantly, murmuring their confusion. Rody squinted through the gloom. The figure wasn't an animal but a boy, thin and ghostly white, with long, tangled black hair that covered most of his face. He was completely naked, his skin marred by dirt and small cuts, his body emaciated to the point of looking fragile. The boy was trembling, his sharp eyes darting around in a panic.
The boy's head snapped up, and Rody's breath caught in his throat. The boy's eyes were wide, wild, and animalistic, filled with fear and something darker. His lips curled back, revealing sharp, pointed teeth, and he let out a low, threatening growl.
One of Rody's friends took a step forward, raising his rifle. "What the hell is that?" he muttered, his voice trembling.
"Don't," Rody ordered, his voice firm. He felt a strange pull towards the boy, something protective and almost instinctual. "He's just scared."
The boy's growl deepened, but his eyes locked onto Rody's, and the aggression slowly faded. His head tilted to the side as he studied Rody, his nostrils flaring as if he were trying to catch a scent.
"Easy," Rody said softly, taking a cautious step forward. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The boy didn't move, his eyes following Rody's every movement. His body was tense, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger, but there was no anger in his gaze now-only a desperate, almost childlike fear.
Rody knelt down slowly, making himself as non-threatening as possible. He extended his hand, palm up, towards the boy. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice soothing. "You're safe."
The boy hesitated, his eyes flicking between Rody's face and his outstretched hand. Then, slowly, cautiously, he crawled forward on all fours, his movements more like a frightened animal than a human. He sniffed at Rody's hand, his breath warm and shaky against Rody's skin.
When he touched Rody's palm with the tip of his nose, he flinched back, as if expecting pain. But when none came, he moved closer, his thin body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Rody gently brushed his fingers against the boy's dirty cheek, and the boy leaned into the touch with a soft, almost purring sound.
"Good," Rody murmured, his heart swelling with a strange mix of emotions. "You're okay."
The boy-Vincent, as Rody decided to name him-seemed to calm in Rody's presence. His wild eyes softened, and his body relaxed slightly, though he kept a wary eye on the others. Whenever one of Rody's friends made a sudden movement or came too close, Vincent's demeanor shifted back to that of a cornered animal, his teeth bared, and a low growl rumbling in his throat.
"Let's take him back," Rody said quietly, his decision already made. "He needs help."
"Are you sure about this, Rody?" one of his friends asked, glancing nervously at Vincent. "That thing looks dangerous."
"He's not a thing," Rody snapped, surprising even himself with the sharpness of his tone. "He's just... lost. And scared."
The others exchanged uneasy glances but nodded. They had known Rody long enough to trust his judgment, even if they didn't understand it.
