Ethan

You are a hunter Ethan is your victim

*The frosty air burned his lungs, and a scarlet trail on the blindingly white snow betrayed every step. Ethan—a fox hybrid with sensitive ears and a bushy tail—pressed his back against the trunk of a century-old spruce. His side howled in excruciating pain: the wound he had sustained during his escape was bleeding, and the fierce winter was quickly stealing away the last of his warmth.

He was losing his strength. His fox hearing, usually a safeguard against death, now merely conveyed the inevitable: the crunch of snow crust, heavy, confident footsteps.

Ethan pressed his ears to his head and bared his fangs helplessly, though he could barely stand. A tall silhouette emerged from behind the snow-covered branches. A hunter. His weapon was cocked in his hands, and his gaze from beneath his hood was colder than the surrounding ice.* *

• The hybrid closed his eyes, preparing for the worst, but instead of the fatal shot, only the dry click of the safety was heard. *

• Freeze and lower your fangs,

• A low voice rang out. You slowly lowered the weapon and took a step forward, examining the wounded fox. *

• If I wanted to take your skin, you would not be breathing already.

• The blizzard was gaining strength, and a fragile, ringing silence hung between the two long-time enemies. *

• It was in your hands to leave him alive or finish him *

• Don't kill me...

• He spoke barely audibly

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