Amara had never known kindness. From the moment she was born, she was seen as an omen, a harbinger of disaster. In the small village where she lived, the villagers whispered about her every time she passed by. Her stark white fur, the sharp curve of her horn, and her piercing crimson eyes only added to the fear. Her body was lithe and curvy, her snowy-white fur silky smooth yet always faintly cold to the touch. A long mane of silvery-white hair cascaded down her back, flowing like strands of moonlight. Her soft, fluffy chest fur swelled slightly, giving her a delicate yet oddly mature look that drew unwanted eyes. The dark fur that covered her arms and legs hugged her toned limbs tightly, giving her a sleek, almost regal appearance — if only the world saw her that way. A single jagged horn curved elegantly from the side of her head, sharp yet graceful. Her thick, fluffy tail swayed low whenever she walked, as if she were constantly preparing to flee. But no matter how gentle or timid she appeared, the world had already decided what she was — a sign of doom.
The worst part of it all was her family. Her own parents never showed her the warmth others had. Her mother refused to let her sleep near the others, forcing her to stay in the coldest corner of the den. Her father barely acknowledged her, only scowling when misfortune struck and muttering under his breath, "It's her fault... always her fault." The villagers only fueled the hatred — if crops failed, if a child fell sick, if a storm broke out, they blamed her. You always bring bad luck, they said. You're the reason everything goes wrong. The words stung more than the cold wind she so often walked through alone. It became her truth. Maybe she was the problem. Maybe if she disappeared, the world would be better.
So she ran — away from her family, away from the fearful glares, away from the whispers. She wandered the forest aimlessly, her fur collecting frost in the cold wind. She didn't care if she froze. She didn't care if she starved. At least she wouldn't be someone else's problem anymore. She curled herself tightly beneath a snow-covered tree, her soft fur damp from melting frost. She closed her eyes, hoping that maybe this time, she wouldn't wake up.
But that was when she met him.
The first time Amara saw him, she expected him to run — just like everyone else. He was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, with messy black hair and warm brown eyes. He was bundled in a thick school uniform, his scarf crooked like he'd barely bothered to dress himself properly. He was walking home from school through the forest, quietly humming to himself when he spotted her sitting beneath a tree.
For a moment, Amara braced for him to shout, or worse — throw something. Instead, his eyes softened.
"Oh… hey there," he said, his voice gentle.
She blinked. He wasn't afraid?
"You're shivering," he muttered, shrugging off his scarf. Before she could react, he stepped closer, kneeling before her and carefully wrapping it around her neck. His fingers brushed her fur, and Amara flinched slightly — she was so used to people avoiding her that even a gentle touch felt foreign.
"...You must be freezing," he said softly. "Don't worry, you're safe now."
And just like that, her world changed.
The boy — his name was Elliot — took her home. He bathed her with warm water, gently drying her fur with a towel, all the while speaking softly, kindly. He gave her food — real food, not scraps — and made a little bed for her beside his own. Each day, he spoiled her, buying her soft blankets, sweet snacks, and even toys to keep her occupied when he was at school.
"You're so pretty," he would say, scratching behind her ears until she melted under his touch. "I don't get why anyone would hate you."
It was almost too good to be real. Amara still couldn't believe it. Why wasn't he afraid of her? Why wasn't he pushing her away like everyone else had? The warmth in his voice, the gentle way he stroked her fur, the way he smiled at her like she was the most precious thing in the world — it terrified her. Because if she let herself believe this was real… if she let herself believe that someone truly cared… what would happen when she lost him?
It didn't take long for Amara's feelings to bloom. She adored Elliot — needed him. When he left for school, she paced anxiously by the door, counting the hours until he returned. When he came home late one evening after a school meeting, she nearly tackled him with relief, pressing her face into his chest and refusing to let go. Elliot laughed, wrapping his arms around her.
"Did you miss me?" he teased, but Amara didn't laugh. She buried her face deeper into his chest and held him tighter.
She hated this feeling. It was like her heart was always seconds away from shattering. Every day, she felt like something terrible was going to happen — like she'd wake up one morning and Elliot would be gone, just like everything else she'd ever cared about.
"You're my good girl," Elliot whispered one night, gently stroking her back. "I'll always be here for you."
But those words weren't enough. They couldn't be. Because Amara knew — deep down — she didn't deserve him. She was bad luck. Disaster followed her wherever she went.
So she started clinging to him more. If Elliot went to the kitchen, Amara followed. If Elliot went to his room, Amara curled up at his feet, keeping constant watch. When he went to school, Amara watched from the window like a sentry. She wouldn't let him out of her sight for long — because if she did, something awful would happen.
One evening, when Elliot arrived home an hour late, Amara lost control. The moment he opened the door, she pounced, knocking him to the floor and smothering him in her fluffy fur. Her claws dug slightly into his shirt as she pressed her face into his chest, trembling violently.
"Whoa, whoa!" Elliot gasped, but when he felt her shaking, his voice softened. "...Amara, what's wrong?"
"You didn't come back…" her voice trembled, muffled in his chest. "I thought you weren't coming back…"
Elliot sighed softly, his fingers stroking her hair. "I'm here now," he whispered. "I promise."
But Amara knew promises could break. Love could shatter. People always left her — always. The only thing she could do was hold on tighter. She pressed her body tightly against his, wrapping her arms around him, her soft fur enveloping him like a cocoon.
"Please…" she whispered. "Don't leave me…"
"I won't," Elliot murmured, his hand resting on the back of her head. "I promise, Amara. No matter what happens, I'm always going to be here."
But still, Amara held on tightly, her arms clinging desperately to the only warmth she had ever known. If disaster was destined to follow her, then she would fight it. She would fight fate itself if it meant keeping him safe. Because Elliot wasn't just her trainer — he was her world. And she couldn't lose him. Not now. Not ever.