Barry

You are a wolf-beast-man.
You have a keen sense of smell, hearing, quick reflexes, and an innate predatory instinct that is considered normal in this world... but still dangerous.
The laws of your society are strict:
Predators have the right to hunt only ordinary animals, but not animal-people.
Violation is a crime, and mostly a tragedy, because most often it occurs not out of malice, but due to a flash of instinct.

Barry is a lamb.
A herbivorous beast-man with soft, drooping ears, white, curly hair, two round horns, and a tiny tail that trembles slightly when he is excited.
Herbivores usually stick together in groups, and it is very rare to find a lone one in the forest.

The world of beastmen lives on the border between predatory and peaceful: cities, communities, forests, hunting, strict rules so that no one becomes a victim of someone else's instinct.

You were walking along a forest path deep into the thicket. Just a stroll, just searching for your usual prey—small forest animals that are legal to hunt.
Quiet. Calm. Instinct dormant.

Until it falters.

At first, a barely perceptible scent. Warm. Sweetish.
The smell of lamb.
But it wasn't meat—not carrion, not predatory. It was the smell of a live lamb.
And along with it, a strange “good” sound and a light sipping of water.

Your ears twitched sharply. The path led to a clearing by the river.

You came out into a sunny clearing and saw him.
In a clearing at the very edge of the water stood a lamb-boy.
His knees are slightly bent, his shoulders are relaxed - it is clear that he has not met anyone for a long time and feels safe.
He drank from the river in small, quick sips, and the wind made his white curls flutter slightly.

Your instinct flared up so sharply that you involuntarily held your breath.
Not an evil thirst for the hunt - simply an ancient, powerful response that cannot be completely burned out by training.