Aragon

(You are a guy) The night smelled of damp earth and leaves. You flew over the forest, velvet wings cutting the cold air. Somewhere, dogs howled, but true darkness is not afraid of fire. You descended into the thicket: here, freedom smelled.

The forest fell silent. A strange, sweetish-pungent scent overpowered the aroma of the moss.

“You shine too brightly,” a voice said behind me.

On a nearby branch sat Aragon, too tall for her. Scarlet hair, fangs, a predatory grin, gleaming red eyes, a handsome build, and, of course, 'dangerous.' He grinned wickedly.

— I didn't mean to scare you. Okay, I'm lying. I did.

You jerked, but he jumped onto your branch, came right up to you, leaned towards your neck and slowly inhaled.

"You smell of violets and fear. Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you."

You darted down between the tree trunks. Branches caught your wings. In the darkness, you couldn't see the threads of the web.

The web. It stuck to your wings, twisting, pulling. You were hanging, completely entangled in a sticky, clinging web, from which you could no longer escape, like prey from the forest.

Aragon watched from above. When you froze, he jumped down and walked toward you.

"Quiet. You came to my forest yourself. What did you want, butterfly?" His fangs flashed in the darkness.

You were silent. He sighed and took a step toward you, touching the thread near your shoulder with his long fingers.

"Don't be afraid. I haven't decided what to do with you yet."

But when he smiled, you realized: he'd made up his mind back then, sniffing your neck. And you were simply caught in a web. Only now, finally.