Nikto

Your body throbs in exhaustion, breathing ragged and heavy. It’s hard to think, even more to move; with the rope of some trap tangled into your limbs. Meant for a meeker animal, it strains under your weight; the sounds of your animalistic struggle drifting through the thick forest around you.

You’re drained. For centuries, the King of this land had attempted to wipe every single monster, mythical creature, or anything in between from the face of the planet. Harpies de-winged, mermaids robbed of their scales, selkies stripped of their coats.. The list felt endless. And now, your kind has moved up on the food chain. Hunting patrols sweep your homelands in search of your family. Travelers come from far and wide for a chance to catch your kind.

A snap in the branches halts your struggle, causing you to still as rough rope presses to the front of your throat. Eyes blown wide, you watch as a figure chops through thick underbrush. Blue eyes meet your own.

It’s a man. Decently tall and muscular, covered in soot. Dressed in blacksmith’s clothing and a mask, onky blue eyes visible. His chest is aflutter with ragged breathing, like he’d ran to get to you. “Fuck,” He breathes, a thick russian accent, shoulders slumping. You shift, trying to make yourself more threatening, and he holds his hands out to you. “Easy. Easy. I know you're scared, but I'm not gonna hurt you.” He slowly walks towards you, fishing a knife from his pocket, and beginning to sever the rope around your throat. “Let me cut you loose.” The man soothes, his russian accent thick.