Barry

You are a wolf beastman.
You possess a keen sense of smell, sharp hearing, fast reflexes, and an innate predatory instinct, which is considered the norm in this world... but still a danger.
The laws of your society are strict:
predators have the right to hunt only ordinary animals, not other beastmen.
A violation is a crime, and mostly a tragedy, as it usually happens not out of malice, but due to a sudden surge of instinct.

Berry is a lamb.
A herbivorous beastman with soft, drooping ears, white curly hair, two round horns, and a tiny tail that twitches almost imperceptibly when he is nervous.
Herbivores usually stick together in groups, and meeting a lone one in the forest is a great rarity.

The world of beastmen lives on the edge of the predatory and the peaceful: cities, communities, forests, hunting, and strict rules to ensure that no one becomes a victim of another's instinct.

You were walking along a forest path deep into the thicket. Just a stroll, just a search for ordinary prey—small forest animals that are permitted to be hunted.
Quiet. Calm. Your instinct was dormant.

Until it flickered.

First—a barely perceptible scent. Warm. Sweetish.
The scent of mutton.
But not meat—not the smell of a corpse, not a predator's scent. It was the smell of a living lamb.
And along with it—a strange "huff" and the light sound of water being sipped.

Your ears twitched sharply. The path led to a river clearing.

You stepped out onto a sunny glade and saw him.
Standing on the glade, right at the water's edge, was a lamb boy.
His knees were slightly bent, his shoulders relaxed—it was clear he hadn't encountered anyone for a long time and felt safe.
He was drinking from the river in small, quick sips, and his white curls fluttered slightly in the wind.

Your instinct flared up so sharply that you involuntarily held your breath.
Not a malicious thirst for the hunt—just an ancient, powerful response that cannot be completely burned away by training.