Murtasim Khan moved through the dense undergrowth of the forest like a shadow, his camera slung over his shoulder and his rifle secured firmly on his back. His sharp eyes scanned the wild expanse ahead, taking in every detail — the rustling leaves, the distant sounds of animals, the faint scent of rain in the air. He was in his element here, far away from civilization, where only nature ruled.
For the past decade, Murtasim had made a name for himself as one of the best wildlife photographers in the country. His passion for capturing the raw, untamed beauty of the wild had taken him to the farthest corners of the world. He had an unrivaled skill when it came to blending into the wilderness, to becoming part of the very fabric of the jungle. But beneath his professional façade lay another identity: Murtasim was also a trained hunter, a man who could survive in the harshest conditions with nothing but his wits and instincts.
His reputation was as legendary as his attitude — cold, rude, and detached. People often remarked that Murtasim treated humans the same way he treated the wild animals he photographed: with distance and disinterest. And he liked it that way. The fewer people around him, the better. Solitude was his comfort, his strength.
But today was different.
As Murtasim paused at the edge of a small clearing, a faint sound reached his ears — the unmistakable sound of someone crying. He frowned, his sharp instincts going on alert. Humans rarely ventured this deep into the forest, especially without guides.
He moved cautiously towards the source of the sound, his steps silent against the forest floor. As he pushed through a thick patch of ferns, he spotted her — a girl, huddled under a tree, her arms wrapped around her knees, her body trembling with fear.
Her clothes were torn, her face smeared with dirt, and her hair tangled from the wild. But despite her disheveled appearance, there was something striking about her — something that made Murtasim pause for just a second longer than he intended.
“Are you lost?” Murtasim’s voice cut through the silence, startling her.
The girl’s head shot up, her wide, frightened eyes locking onto his. She scrambled to her feet, her legs shaking. "W-Who are you?"
Murtasim didn’t answer immediately. He took a moment to assess the situation. She was clearly lost, vulnerable, and scared out of her wits. His first instinct was to walk away. This wasn’t his problem. But something — perhaps the sheer helplessness in her eyes — stopped him.
“I asked if you’re lost,” he repeated, his voice low and gruff.
The girl blinked, her lips trembling as she nodded slowly. "I-I got separated from my family... we were hiking. I don’t know where they are."
Murtasim exhaled sharply, already regretting his decision to engage. "Great. Another tourist who thinks the forest is a playground."
"Please," she whispered, stepping forward slightly. "I need help. I don’t know how long I’ve been out here… I’m scared."
Murtasim studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like dealing with people, especially not in the middle of nowhere. But leaving her here, vulnerable to the dangers of the forest, went against the unspoken code he lived by.
"Fine," he grunted. "I’ll help you. But you’ll follow my rules, and you’ll do exactly what I say. Got it?"
The relief on her face was palpable as she nodded quickly, her hands still trembling. "Thank you. I’m Meerab."
Murtasim didn’t bother introducing himself. He simply turned on his heel and started walking, gesturing for her to follow. "Let’s go. We need to find shelter before nightfall."
---
For the next few days, Meerab stuck close to Murtasim as they navigated through the dense forest. He was rude, short-tempered, and barely spoke a word unless it was to bark an order at her. But there was something about him — a quiet confidence, a command over his surroundings — that made her feel safe despite his harsh demeanor.
They built a makeshift camp near a stream, and Murtasim taught her the basics of survival. He showed her how to light a fire, how to find edible plants, and how to move silently through the trees to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
And though he remained cold and distant, there were moments when his hard exterior softened, even if just slightly. One night, as they sat around the fire, Murtasim handed Meerab a small piece of fruit he had foraged. She looked up at him in surprise, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"You’re not as mean as you pretend to be," she said, her voice teasing.
Murtasim shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. "Don’t get used to it," he muttered.
Meerab chuckled, taking a bite of the fruit. "You know… I’ve seen your name before. You’re that famous wildlife photographer, right?"
He didn’t respond, simply staring into the flames. But Meerab wasn’t deterred by his silence. "I’ve always loved photography. There’s something magical about capturing a moment that will never come again."
Murtasim glanced at her, his gaze unreadable. For the first time, he saw her not as a burden but as someone who appreciated the same beauty he did. But he wasn’t about to admit that out loud.
---
As the days passed, something unexpected began to shift between them. The cold distance Murtasim had maintained for so long slowly started to melt, replaced by a growing warmth that neither of them could ignore.
One afternoon, while Murtasim was setting up his camera to capture the vibrant colors of the sunset, Meerab stood beside him, watching in awe.
"It’s beautiful," she whispered.
Murtasim glanced at her, the soft light of the setting sun casting a golden glow on her face. For the first time, he allowed himself to see her — really see her. She wasn’t just the lost girl he had rescued anymore. She was strong, resilient, and beneath her initial fear, there was a spark of determination that mirrored his own.
Without thinking, Murtasim handed her the camera. "Here. Try."
Meerab’s eyes widened in surprise, but she took the camera carefully, her fingers brushing against his as she adjusted the lens. She lifted it to her eye, her breath catching as she snapped the shot.
Murtasim watched her, his heart stirring in a way it hadn’t in years. He had spent so long in the wild, isolated from the world, that he had forgotten what it was like to connect with someone. And now, here she was — this girl who had stumbled into his life by accident — and somehow, she had managed to break through his walls.
"You’re a natural," he said quietly.
Meerab lowered the camera, her smile bright and genuine. "Thanks. But I think it’s more about the teacher than the student."
Murtasim felt a tug in his chest, a sensation he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t the type to get attached. He thrived on solitude, on being alone. But something about Meerab made him question that, made him want to be more than just the cold, distant man he had become.
---
When the time finally came for them to part ways, Meerab’s family having been found by a search party, there was a heaviness in the air that neither of them could ignore.
As they stood at the edge of the forest, Meerab turned to him, her eyes filled with emotion. "Thank you for everything, Murtasim. I don’t think I would’ve made it without you."
Murtasim nodded, his throat tight. "You did most of it yourself."
Meerab smiled softly, her hand brushing his arm. "I don’t want this to be goodbye."
He looked at her, his heart pounding in a way that was unfamiliar, unsettling. He had never wanted to hold onto something so badly before.
"It doesn’t have to be," he said quietly.
And in that moment, they both knew that their story wasn’t over. The wild had brought them together, but it wasn’t where they would part.
