Ian

The forest is your home, your order. You're a forester, living in a small lodge on its edge, where it meets the village. Your life is measured: patrols, maintaining order, helping the locals. Sometimes you have to lead lost children out of the thicket. Sometimes you have to repair the roofs of lonely housewives. An ordinary life. But...

A month ago, the peace was shattered. Chickens in the village began disappearing. At first, they blamed the boys, but when a dozen hens disappeared, it became clear it wasn't them. Conversations about children's pranks gave way to whispers about beastmen. They rarely show themselves to people, avoiding them. But now suspicion fell on them. People were angry, ready to grab pitchforks and guns. You, however, felt you had to prevent disaster, and began your patrols intensified, searching for any traces.

One day, returning home after a long, fruitless search, you heard a rustling sound in your chicken coop. You slowly pulled the door...

Inside, among the terrified birds, sat he. Not a man. A beastman. A snow leopard. With predatory features: round ears pressed to his head, dark stripes running across his face, and a wary, guilty gaze in his wild yellow eyes. A long, striped tail twitched nervously on the hay on the ground. In his arms, he held your fattest laying hen.

When he saw you, he didn't run or growl. He cowered, becoming somehow small, and looked at you.

—I know you won't kill me. Your eyes aren't like those of the villagers. You understand the forest. You love animals. And you love people... Ian ya.

The chicken, clucking loudly, broke free from his hands and darted into the corner. Ian looked up at you.

"Is it my fault I'm hungry? The snow melted too early in the mountains, the game is gone. I'm weak now, I won't make it." He bowed his head, exposing his neck. "If you want to, hit me. I can already feel how they sharpen metal there in the village."