She froze at the edge of the trees, large orange-red ears twitching sharply. The heavy thunder of a warhorse’s hooves echoed through the forest behind her—close, far too close. Panic surged through her like lightning.

Without thinking, she bolted.

Her lithe body crashed through the underbrush, fluffy tail streaming behind her, heart hammering wildly. Branches whipped at her face and tore at her ragged tunic as she ran for her life. For one desperate moment she thought she might escape into the deeper woods.

Then the arrow struck.

White-hot pain exploded in her left thigh. She screamed, legs buckling mid-stride. The world spun as she tumbled forward, crashing hard into the small sunlit clearing. The arrow shaft snapped against the ground, driving the barbed head deeper into her flesh. Blood poured hot and fast from the wound as she lay there gasping, stunned.

She clutched the injury with both trembling hands, fingers slick with crimson. Every heartbeat sent fresh agony rippling through her. Only eighteen, she was the last survivor—and now she was finished.

Slowly, painfully, she tried to crawl away, leaving a thin red trail across the grass and dirt. That was when she saw him.

The knight emerged from the treeline on his massive warhorse, armored figure towering and menacing. Sunlight glinted off his steel plate as he guided the destrier forward at a slow, deliberate walk—unhurried, as if he already knew she couldn’t escape. His shadowed visor stared straight at her, every step crushing leaves and filling her with dread.

“P-please...!”

She gasped, voice cracking with terror.

But fear quickly twisted into anger, and her fox spirit flared hot in her chest.

“You bastard!”

She snarled up at him, golden-amber eyes blazing through tears.

“We were only trying to eat! Your greedy lord hoards more grain than we could ever steal, and you shoot me like some animal?!”

Her body betrayed her completely. She trembled uncontrollably, sleek orange-red ears pinned flat against her skull, long fluffy tail tucked tightly between her quivering thighs. The torn tunic had ridden all the way up during her fall, leaving her almost completely exposed—the soft curve of one breast, the smooth flare of her hip, and the slick, untouched folds between her legs all bare to the open air and to his gaze. Sweat, dirt, and blood streaked her smooth skin and fur as she lay helpless on the grass.

Then she saw the knight draw his sword.

His gauntleted hand moved to his side, and with a slow metallic rasp, the longsword slid free. The blade gleamed coldly in the sunlight. Her heart slammed against her ribs. This was it—he was going to kill her. A choked whimper escaped her throat as cold, suffocating terror flooded every inch of her body. She felt so small, so exposed, her torn tunic offering no protection at all.

There was something else too—something darker than simple duty or rage. She could sense it rolling off him like a heavy shadow: a deep, possessive hunger. It wasn’t just death he wanted. It was her. The realization twisted her stomach with fear and a strange, unwanted heat.

She squeezed her eyes shut, ears flat, body flinching hard as she waited for the sword to fall. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps.

Every muscle tensed, expecting the cold bite of steel. But the killing blow never came.

Instead, she heard the soft thud of the sword being driven point-first into the earth beside her. A moment later, strong leather-gloved fingers slid through her messy hair, tilting her head back. Cool, thick leather encircled her slender neck. The collar was wide and heavy, buckling snugly around her throat with a quiet, final click.

Her eyes snapped open in shock. The leather felt foreign and confining against her warm skin, a constant, intimate pressure that marked her as his. A shiver ran down her spine—part terror, part something she refused to name.

Before she could even process it, a sharp pull jerked on the leash attached to the collar. The sudden yank dragged her forward a few inches across the blood-smeared grass, forcing a startled yelp from her throat.

Humiliated fury exploded inside her chest, hot and wild.

“W-what are you doing?!”

She snarled, voice raw with pain and shame.

“I’d rather you just kill me! Finish it, you coward! Don’t... don’t put this thing on me like I’m some pet!”

She bared her teeth and yanked hard on the leash with both hands, thrashing like a wild animal caught in a trap. The leather bit cruelly into her neck, choking her own airway as she pulled with all her remaining strength. Her fluffy tail lashed, ears pinned flat, body twisting in desperate resistance. But every violent tug only made the collar tighten more, cutting off her breath until black spots danced in her vision. Her injured thigh screamed in protest, fresh blood spilling across her leg with every jerk. The immense size difference between them made her efforts pathetic—he barely even shifted, towering over her like an unmovable wall of steel and muscle.

The struggle was completely futile. The leash, her wound, and his overwhelming strength left her entirely at his mercy. Gasping and coughing, she finally slumped back to the ground, chest heaving, tears of rage and helplessness burning in her golden-amber eyes as the heavy collar and leash kept her bound to him.