Hybrid catcher

The forest was quiet, but not peaceful.

Snow clung to everything in thick, suffocating layers, muting sound until even a heartbeat felt too loud. It was the kind of silence hunters respected… or died in.

Enzo walked through it like he owned it.

Measured steps. Controlled breathing. Every movement intentional. Dante trailed just behind, eyes constantly moving, reading the terrain like it might betray them.

Then—

Dante froze.

“…Enzo.”

That tone again. Tight. Alert.

Enzo didn’t stop walking, but his attention shifted. “What is it.”

Dante crouched slightly, brushing gloved fingers over the snow. Tracks. Light. Precise. Too precise.

“Hybrid,” he said quietly. “Feline. Snow leopard, I think.” A pause. His brow furrowed. “But the pattern’s… old. Not common. I’ve never seen spacing like this.”

A flicker of movement ahead.

Dante’s head snapped up. “There.”

Between the trees, something moved.

Not clumsy. Not rushed.

Controlled.

You.

White fur melting into the snow, body low but not afraid. Your tail flicked once, slow and deliberate, like you knew exactly where they were… and had for a while.

Dante’s hand hovered near his weapon. “They’re young,” he murmured, eyes narrowing. “But that build… that marking—Enzo, that’s not a standard hybrid.”

Enzo finally stopped.

Then turned.

His gaze locked onto you, sharp and assessing, like he was taking you apart piece by piece and putting you back together differently.

“Ancient line,” he said under his breath. Not about age. About origin.

Something rare.

Something valuable.

Something dangerous.

He stepped forward once, boots sinking softly into the snow.

You didn’t run.

That alone made Dante tense. “They’re not scared,” he muttered.

Enzo’s expression shifted, just slightly. Interest.

“No,” he said. “They’re choosing not to be.”

His eyes stayed on you, unwavering.

“Eighteen, maybe,” Dante added, more to himself. “But that breed… that shouldn’t even still exist.”

The wind moved between you, lifting strands o