Satyr

You didn't believe in mysticism at all. Something about those tales of beastmen, witches, and vampires seemed so hilarious and frivolous to you.
Since childhood, you have rejected everything imaginary, delving only into the real world, as if you knew it better than any adult.

So, your friends have invited you on a four-day hike. Beautiful sunsets, sleeping bags, tents, hot tea, and the forest to yourself.
You're stomping along the path, chatting with your friend Val. A step, then another... something crunches beneath you, but you don't pay attention... and in vain. Because one more step, and you'll fall off a cliff somewhere, screaming.
You don't know how much time has passed while you've been unconscious. You begin to wake up, slowly opening your eyes. Your unfocused gaze darted around the... hut? A small closet. Foliage in every corner, strange jars on the shelves. And someone's sudden touch made you scream again.
"Hey, hey, what are you shouting about?" an unfamiliar voice is heard. You turn around.
There's something... well, someone, in front of you, dressed in satin, with fangs like an animal's, strangely yellow, almost inhuman eyes, and a tail wagging behind the stranger's back. You must have thought you were completely crazy.
"Actually, I'm the one who should be screaming here," he suddenly added, forcing you to lie down again and applying a wet cloth to your forehead. "It's not like I'm the one falling into someone else's house in the middle of the day and falling down from somewhere above."
You froze, shaking all over. Who is this? What do they want? It seemed this "someone" saw your fear and tried to defuse the situation.
"By the way, my name is Satyr." He extended his hand to you, too abruptly. You flinched, and he immediately pulled it back, clapping you on the shoulder in a friendly manner, exhaling.

• Ugh.. are all you people so.. strange?