~ Liam ~
I ran until my lungs burned, until my legs threatened to collapse beneath me, until the night air tore at my throat with each desperate gasp. I couldn't stop, couldn't slow down, and couldn't risk being caught.
The word "bite" echoed in my head like a death sentence, drowning out everything else Rooster had said about mates and bonds and belonging. All I knew was that I had to get away, had to put as much distance between myself and that word as possible.
Branches whipped at my face as I crashed through the underbrush. The forest was a blur of shadows and moonlight, trees looming like sentinels in my peripheral vision. I didn't care about stealth now. Didn't care about being silent or unseen. The careful habits of fifteen years abandoned in my blind panic to escape.
Rooster's words played on repeat in my head, his gentle voice describing something that felt like violence to me."Claiming happens during intimacy. It's a bite, right here."The memory of his fingers touching that spot where neck meets shoulder sent another surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I stumbled over an exposed root, my ankle twisting painfully as I caught myself against a tree trunk. The rough bark scraped my palms, but I pushed off immediately, ignoring the sting. Pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered except distance. Space. Safety.
Every breath tore at my chest, each footfall sending jarring impacts up my spine. How long had I been running? Minutes? Hours? The forest seemed endless, trees and undergrowth melting together in the darkness. My vision blurred, tears or sweat or both stinging my eyes.
I'd been stupid to think I could trust him. Stupid to believe that someone would offer food, shelter, kindness without wanting something in return. And what he wanted was to bite me. To claim me. To own me.
My foot caught on another root and this time I went down hard, sprawling across the forest floor. Dead leaves and pine needles cushioned my fall, but the impact still knocked the wind from my lungs. I lay there gasping, my body finally refusing to continue its mindless flight.
A sob escaped me, the sound strange and unfamiliar to my own ears. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried. Tears were weakness. Weakness got you noticed. Noticed got you hurt.
I dragged myself to the base of a massive pine tree, its trunk wider than I could wrap my arms around. My back pressed against the rough bark as I pulled my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. The position was familiar—the same way I'd huddled for warmth and protection on countless nights alone.
Gradually, as my breathing slowed, I became aware of other sensations. The gentle pressure of pine needles beneath me. The cool, resinous scent of the tree at my back. The soft rustling of branches overhead despite the still night air.
I pressed my trembling hands against the tree's bark, feeling the subtle vibrations beneath my fingertips. Not audible sound, but something deeper. A language without words that I'd understood since childhood.
Safe here. Safe with us.
The tree's message wasn't in English or any human tongue. It was a feeling, an impression that formed in my mind as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud. I closed my eyes, letting my awareness sink into the connection.
Afraid-one. Heart-racing. Be still.
Around me, other trees joined the silent conversation, their needles shifting with deliberate movements. I felt the forest awakening to my presence, recognizing me as they always had. Plants didn't judge. Didn't demand. Didn't bite.
Known-to-us. Protected.
My golden eyes blinked open, scanning the darkened forest. My body remained tense, ready to bolt at the first sign of pursuit, but the trees were forming a different message now. They bent slightly inward, their branches creating a canopy above me, a living shelter against the night.
The pine I leaned against seemed to shift, its bark softening imperceptibly where it touched my back. Not physically changing, but somehow accommodating my presence, welcoming me into its space.
Long-alone. Not-alone now.
I shook my head, rejecting the tree's assessment. I was alone. Had been since I was seven years old. The brief connection with Rooster had been an illusion, a momentary weakness on my part. Humans—even shifter humans—couldn't be trusted.
But even as I thought this, images of Rooster flashed through my mind. His patient teaching as I learned to use a fork. The careful way he'd always given me space, never crowding me. The food he'd left without demands or expectations.
And that moment in the yard during the attack—his gentle touch on my face, the unexpected tenderness in his voice as he'd called me "baby boy." No one had ever touched me like that. Like I was something precious rather than something to use or discard.
Red-fur-man searches. Calls your name.
I tensed again, my hands pressing harder against the pine's bark. Could Rooster have followed me? Tracked me into the forest? The thought sent my heart racing once more, but thetrees immediately responded, their energy shifting to soothe my panic.
Far away. Not here. Safe now.
The branches above me rustled more insistently, drawing my attention upward. Through gaps in the needles, I could see stars scattered across the night sky. They seemed impossibly distant and cold, reminding me of how small I was in this vast world. How insignificant.
Yet the trees remembered me. Recognized me. Even after months or years of absence, they always knew me when I returned to the forests. Their roots spread for miles beneath the soil, connecting in ways humans couldn't understand. They were the closest thing to family I'd ever known.
Rest now. Watch over you.
