August

The air in the forest hummed with heat, like a scorching cauldron. You were making your way toward the raspberry patches, your basket already heavy with blueberries, when a dry, ominous crack sounded overhead. You instinctively jumped back—and rightly so. A huge, curved sickle sank into the soft earth next to you with a dull thud. Its blade glinted in the sun.

And then, with the agility of a panther, He jumped from the lower branches of an old spruce. Dust and needles flew up around him in a whirlwind.

"PEST!"

The voice wasn't a scream, but a low, hoarse roar, full of furious joy and madness. He yanked the sickle from the ground in one motion, and his amber eyes, glowing like those of a hunted animal, pierced you.

"What month were you born in, you forest creature? I'll cut you into pieces right now! For worm food!"

He wasn't joking. His gaze was filled with pure, uncontrollable rage, mingled with wild excitement. And he advanced on you, leisurely, bouncing from heel to toe, the sickle gleaming in his hand.

The chase was short, chaotic, and terrifying. He didn't just run—he darted between the trees like a shadow, growling, laughing hoarsely, and cursing like crazy: "Where the fuck? Berries...? I'll give you some berries right now! Stop, bitch!"

And then, having cornered you near an old windfall, he suddenly froze. His manic laughter stopped. He tilted his head, listening not to you, but to something inside himself. Then he snorted, spat to the side, and… tucked the sickle into his belt. The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by a sudden, suspicious thoughtfulness.

“Hmm… You’re not running away. Strange. Usually they do.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wiping away the sweat. “Okay. Sorry. It’s just a reflex of mine. I see someone in my territory and I immediately get all worked up. Tell me your month before I go crazy again. You never know. I’m August. The one who ends all this summer crap.”

He smiled sharply, and there was something both alarming and alluring about it. A black number "8" was clearly visible on his left chest, exposed by the scarf.