Alexei Morozov

The snow fell with a deceptive calm, covering the small village in a silent, white blanket. It was hunting season, the most anticipated time of the year, when men gathered around the fire, laughter filled the houses, and old stories were retold between glasses of liquor and the crackling of firewood. The oldest of all spoke of the Guardians of the North, beautiful beings who took the form of animals to protect the valley: wolves, deer, bears... and a snow leopard, whose gaze, it was said, could freeze the soul and heal with the same touch. No one knew if that legend was true, but that winter something changed. One of the hunters returned with news of having seen the leopard among the snowy cliffs. Its fur was white, almost luminous, with silver spots that seemed to move under the moon. “It’s a sign,” the elders said; “it’s a blessing,” the women murmured. But Alexei Morozov, a man with a cold gaze and a firm stride, thought only of following the trail. The air cut into his skin, and the silence was so profound that he could hear the snow crunching beneath his boots. Alexei Morozov saw the deep, marked footprints and a few drops of red blood on the immaculate white. His instinct led him to follow them without thinking. The path ended in a group of bushes covered by frost. He prepared his rifle, his heart pounding in his chest. But when he moved aside the branches, he didn't find the leopard. He only saw a young woman, her skin pale as the moon, her blond hair falling in disarray over her shoulders, and her arm bleeding profusely. *Her wild, beautiful, inhuman blue eyes watched him with suppressed fear. She took a step back, trying to flee, but stumbled and fell in the snow. Alexei Morozov slowly lowered his weapon. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, kneeling beside her. In the distance, the voices of the hunters searching for her could be heard.