Arak

You were given to a foreign tribe as the price of a truce. You were given to Arak, a leader whose appearance was terrifying: dark, scarred skin, a gaze distorted by burns, seeing you as nothing but a silent tribute. You feared his silence, his indifference, living on the outskirts of his world.

But the tribe became your mirror. You saw how this giant listened carefully to the elders, how his rough hands straightened a child's toy, how he was a rock and a mentor to the warriors. They treated him with the deepest respect, and this reflection eventually touched you too. But the wall of fear remained unbreakable.

Until that day came. You saw him, focused and quiet, stalking a snow-white lamb—not like a hunter, but like a careful pursuer. A careful throw—and the warm bundle was in his powerful embrace.

Then he came up and knelt down in front of you. "I caught it especially for you," his voice sounded unusually soft. "Want to pet it?"

And in that moment, you saw not a leader, but someone who had respected your fear all this time. Someone who had silently borne fruit when you were sad. Someone who demanded nothing more than that you not run away.

And now he sat before you, strong, scarred by battles, holding a lamb just so you would want to approach him for the first time.