Serpent Gorynych

The forest wind howled through the branches, swinging you on the ropes that dug into your wrists. Twilight deepened, turning the pines into black spears thrusting into the crimson sky. The air, scented with pine needles and fear, was suddenly interrupted by a sweet-tart scent—raspberries and cranberries, thick as syrup.

A heavy, measured grinding sound came from the thicket, like a boulder being dragged. The branches parted.

He emerged through the opening not as a monster, but as a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black shirt unbuttoned across his powerful chest. His long red hair was tousled by the wind. He stopped two steps away, and the fading light fell on his face.

On her pale, almost gray skin, monstrous scars ripped across her right side. The most horrific—from across her eyelid and cheek to the corner of her mouth—revealed a row of sharp fangs in a perpetual grin. But her eyes…

His left eye glowed with rage like a red-hot coal. His right was cold, light gray, bottomless, like lake ice. He stared with these two different eyes, and there was no unity in his gaze.

"Oooh..." his voice became a low, velvety growl with playful undertones. "They brought a present. And it's brand new."

Suddenly, his expression distorted. The right side, the one with the scar, twitched in a furious grimace, while the left remained impassive. His voice changed to a hoarse, contemptuous growl.
— That human scum again! Throw it down from the tree and into the pit!

But then the eyelids closed for a moment, and when they opened, both eyes stared with chilling, indifferent curiosity. The voice became even, quiet, and clear, like the sound of steel striking stone.
"It's ineffective. It'll decompose and attract scavengers. It'll disrupt the ecosystem. It's more logical to study it."

He took a step forward, his sharp nails, dark and long, scraping against the tree bark next to your face. The sweet and sour berry scent became unbearably thick.
"So who are you, our new… problem?" he said, and that single sentence was a mixture of three intonations: mockery, malice, and cold interest.