But this human—she called to me in a way wholly unexpected. I wanted to know everything about her. Not just see her butunderstandher. Not just marvel at the flame in her hair andthe flower in her eyes, but to drink in the essence of who she is. I wanted to watch the night sky reflected in her gaze, to see if their hue shifted with the first light of dawn. Or better yet, to see if they deepened into the rich, endless blue of twilight when she lost herself to me in pleasure as I devoured her.
And yet, beneath that primal desire was something deeper. Something raw. Fragile. Once, I had known a love bond where my soul sang in harmony with another’s. And I had lost her—not to nature or time, but to human greed. To their hunger for domination over the world and all its gifts.
I had vowed never to mate again, certain I would never experience love again, that all my hopes and dreams were buried with my family. But now—now my heart roared to life, thrumming with a rhythm I’d thought long silenced. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Why had fate led me to this woman of all creatures? A human, the very kind that had torn my world apart before. And yet how could I deny this pull? This thread that wound itself around me and bound me to her? It felt as though the stars themselves had carved this path, weaving her into my life in defiance of my fears. Or perhaps even in spite of them. Was this the balance?
I had so many questions for her—where she had come from, what was she doing? But I didn’t need to ask where she was going. That, I already knew. She was coming with me.
As confident as I was in my assertion, a shadow of doubt lingered in the back of my mind, whispering warnings. Did I dare trust her? Could I risk the pain of losing again? My brain rapid fired rational questions, but my heart beat steadily onmine, mine, mine. My soul throbbed with the knowledge that she had to feel this, too.
When she scanned the woods, searching for the source of the noise I purposely made, I held my breath, motionless. When her eyes passed over me, I felt them as if she were running herfingertips over my flesh. I knew she couldn’t see me, but I could feel the ripple of her awareness, as though some primal instinct stirred within her. As if my soul called to hers and not only had it heard, but it answered,Here. I am here.
Her gaze returned again to the exact spot where I stood, her brow furrowed as though sensing something just beyond her reach. I knew her soul would respond in kind. After a few heavy beats, she stood and gave herself a small shake, as if trying to cast off my hold on her and went to find her friend. But even as she walked away, I felt her awareness linger, and for the rest of the day, her curious gaze searched the trees for me.
I was curious about her, too. Unlike the others, this little human hadn’t come for yoga or a pilgrimage. She seemed to be here for the earth itself—to study the plants and the land. I could tell she was looking for something specific and couldn’t help but wonder not just what she searched for, but why.
Unlike so many who passed through these mountains, even those who called themselves pilgrims, she walked as though she belonged here, as though the earth itself welcomed her soft footfalls. Countless times, her fingers brushed the plants and trees with a reverence I had never seen in a human.
When I saw her delicate fingers stroking the broad leaf of a low bush, a growl escaped me at the thought of those same hands brushing against my flesh—an aching need to be worshipped by her. To have those same fingers buried deep in my fur or gripped tight around my aching member, which had been hard at the sight of her all day.
I couldn’t recall the last time I had physical contact with another living creature, but guessed it was easily over a hundred years ago, ever since—I stopped myself, shoving the memories back into the shadowy recesses of my long memory where they belonged. It was too painful to examine them in the light of day.
The sun played in her curls, casting shadows and light likethe rippling river as she searched. All day, I watched her, unable to look away. When evening came, I followed her to make sure she reached the small town safely. I knew of the guide who accompanied her—a member of a family I once saved during a cruel winter when they ran out of fuel.
But I didn’t trust anyone to get her home without my oversight. I had learned long ago that when humans are a force of destruction, they could rival the devastation wrought by the goddess Kali herself. And I couldn’t let her be subject to her own kind.
Once the two women were safely back home, I crossed back over the river, the icy water biting at my legs, and lingered at the edge of the woods. From my hidden vantage point, I watched as my Winter Star emerged to sit by the fire, its warm glow reflecting in her eyes.
We repeated this process for months, me trailing after her like a lost pup during the day and then making sure she got home safely in the evenings. As the days grew colder and her determination grew fiercer, I grew to feel as if I knew her. I could read the angle of her smile and the tilt of her head. Her excitement was evident in the way she made that little hand gesture, and her fatigue showed in the way she put both hands on her hips and stretched her back.
Eventually, from overheard snippets of her conversation, I learned that she was looking for a specific plant with a name I had never heard. I watched her talk to anyone she could find with a ready smile and hope shining in her eyes.
But with each passing day, her light dimmed, and I sensed her time here was drawing to a close. She pushed herself harder and longer, exhaustion etching lines into her face as she raced against a sun that set a little earlier each day. The mountain waits for no one. The loss of hope seemed to tug at her curls, as if even they mourned.
I tried to convince myself this had just been a diversion—anovelty, a fleeting encounter with a bright, little human who stirred long-forgotten feelings in my heart and body. But the lie was bitter in my mouth.
And tonight, that bitterness deepens when I sense she’s leaving tomorrow. Though she goes through her usual night-time routine, each task is a little slower, a little more deliberate—as if she’s committing every moment to memory, savoring the last of it. As if she doesn’t want to leave not just her search, but this place—my home. And in that moment, I can’t help but wish it was me she didn’t want to leave.Me, that she had been searching for all along.
As she sits by the fire and carefully schools her face, she cannot hide the heartbreak that bleeds so freely from her chest it sneaks across the river like fog to wind its fingers into me, scrabbling at my heart like the icy northern winds.
I want to go to her, wrap her up in my great strong arms, shield her from the world with my body. I want to give her comfort and reassurance that whatever she is so sad about doesn’t matter. Whisper into her tiny, round hairless ear that everything will be okay if only the two of us face it together. We can hide away for all time in my caves and lose ourselves in each other.
But I cannot run to her, cannot take on the darkness with her. Because she is a human, and I—I am not.
The truth settles in my chest, a cold, aching weight with the destructive force of an avalanche. She belongs to the world of the rising sun, to the warmth of firelight, to the land of others like her. And I—I am made of shadow and stone, of cold wind and endless silence. There is no place for me in her life beyond this fleeting moment, this strange crossing of fates.
I ache to go after her. To tell her she doesn’t have to leave. That she could stay here, with me, in this wild place where infinite stars prick across the velvet tapestry of night and the North winds sing through the trees. Where there is austere beauty inrock and snow, and great discovery within the silence. Where we can just be two souls, lost to the world but found in each other.
But I know better. The pull of her world with its speed and technology is too strong, her journey not one I can share. No matter how much my soul protests, how much this thread between us tugs my soul to hers, I cannot be what she needs. I am a Migoi, a monster, a legend. I am tied to this place and this sacred duty, my dharma, to protect and balance.
And so, I let her go.
I close my eyes and release my worry for her out into the universe, as if unburdening it will keep her safe. The mountains around me stand steadfast and unchanging, their peaks holding back the coming light of dawn as if cradling this moment in the sky’s velvet embrace. I focus on them, on their ancient wisdom, and I ask them to watch over her. To pass their quiet comfort into her soul.
I imagine her footsteps on the trail ahead, her heart heavy but determined. I hope she feels the mountains’ strength beneath her feet, grounding her. Hears their whispers in the wind, reminding her she is not alone. I hope she carries the wildness of this place with her always, even as she returns to a world that will stamp it out and endeavor to erase the magic touch of these peaks.
The ache does not leave me, but I accept it. It is the price of knowing her, even for so brief a time. Yes, she is human, and I am not—but in some strange, impossible way, we are still bound. And perhaps that is enough. It has to be, because it is all I have.
