The dense forest stretched endlessly, its towering trees weaving together a canopy that blocked out much of the sky. The air was thick with the scent of earth and the whispers of leaves rustling in the breeze. Hidden deep within this wilderness lived Ronan, a figure as much a part of the forest as the trees themselves. His clothes were simple, crafted from the natural materials around him—rough leather and cloth, patched together by time and necessity. His wild hair cascaded down his back, untamed like the very world he called home.
For years, he had lived among the animals. The forest was his family, the creatures his companions. He climbed trees with ease, ran through the woods as though he was born from the earth itself, and communicated with the animals in ways no one could understand—except him.
One day, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an amber glow over the land, Ronan's sharp ears caught a sound—an unnatural noise that broke the peaceful rhythm of the forest. A cry. It was distant, but it rang out through the trees, tugging at his instincts. He knew something was wrong.
Without hesitation, he raced towards the sound, his feet barely touching the ground as he leapt between branches and scaled the trunks of trees. The noise grew louder, more frantic, until he reached the cliff's edge. Below, a girl lay sprawled on the jagged rocks, her body twisted from the fall.
Her breaths were shallow, her clothes torn from the impact, but she was alive. Just barely.
Ronan's heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the situation. The distance between the cliff and the ground was far too great for any ordinary person to survive, let alone climb. But to him, the distance meant nothing. The forest had taught him the ways of survival.
With swift precision, he dropped from the tree above and caught hold of the rocky face of the cliff. His body moved like a monkey, agile and effortless, each movement instinctively planned. The girl watched in disbelief as he scaled the cliff, his hands and feet finding purchase on the jagged rocks, his eyes fixed on her.
As he reached her side, she blinked in confusion. Who was this man who seemed to move like an animal, with a grace that defied logic? His clothes were strange—leather and fur, woven in patterns that seemed older than the forest itself. His presence was like nothing she had ever seen before.
"Are you hurt?" Ronan's voice was soft, yet steady. He reached down to gently help her sit up, his touch surprisingly tender.
The girl's mind was racing. She had fallen from such a great height, and yet here he was, a stranger who had appeared out of nowhere. She couldn't fathom how he had scaled the cliff so quickly, how he seemed so... otherworldly. The way the animals in the forest reacted to him, the way the trees seemed to lean in as if listening to his every move—it all felt wrong, yet strangely captivating.
"I'm... I'm Elara," she managed, her voice weak but steadying as she tried to process what had just happened.
"Ronan," he replied, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "You're lucky you survived. Let me help you."
He knelt beside her, gently tending to her cuts and scratches, applying a salve he'd made from the forest's herbs. His touch was careful, precise, and though his hands were rough, they didn't feel threatening.
"Why are you out here?" he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer. The forest was no place for a lost traveler, not without purpose.
"I... I was running away," she confessed, her eyes downcast. "From my past. From something I couldn't escape." She hesitated, as if unsure whether to trust him with the full truth.
Ronan said nothing. His eyes were distant, as though he too understood what it meant to run, to be lost.