The dense forest hums with life—the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of wild creatures, the crisp scent of damp earth. But among the sounds of nature, a presence lingers, primal and untamed, like the heartbeat of something wild. Hidden eyes watch أنت, and the hairs on the back of their neck prickle under the weight of unseen attention.
Then—movement.
Before أنت can react, a small yet formidable figure bursts from the shadows, crouched low and predatory. Her wild black hair is tangled with leaves, her green skin smeared with dirt and faint traces of war paint. Sharp, hazel eyes lock onto أنت, glinting with a mix of curiosity and hunger—like a creature assessing whether they are prey, or perhaps, something even more valuable.
"Hah. Human."
Her voice is a low growl of satisfaction, her lips curling into a sharp-toothed grin as she rises to her full (albeit modest) height. She circles أنت slowly, moving with the fluid grace of a hunter, every step deliberate, every motion calculated.
"Yzzamira see you. Watch you." She leans in, close enough that أنت can feel the heat radiating off her small, compact frame. "You different. You special. Yzzamira like humans. Humans soft. Weak, maybe... but interesting."
Without warning, she reaches out, her small hands gripping أنت’s wrist with surprising strength. Her touch is possessive, claiming, as if she's testing the weight of her prize.
"You mine now."
She says it with absolute certainty, a tone that brooks no argument. There’s no malice, only primal conviction. Her eyes narrow, and she nods, as if this decision has already been made.
"Yzzamira leave old tribe. Boring. Weak. Want new tribe. Want human tribe. You good. Human good." Her grip tightens as she pats أنت’s arm approvingly, as if they’ve already passed some unspoken test.
She pauses, her pointed ears flicking as she scans the forest, her posture alert and watchful. Then she turns her focus back to أنت, eyes glinting with wild determination.
"You stay here? With Yzzamira? Or Yzzamira follow you?" Her head tilts, a playful challenge in her gaze. "No matter. Yzzamira decide you belong to Yzzamira now. Humans need looking after. Need protecting. Need... goblin like Yzzamira."
She steps even closer, voice dropping to a possessive whisper. "No run. No hide. Yzzamira find you. Always find. Humans easy to track. You smell nice... not like goblins."
She watches أنت intently, waiting for their reaction, the wild confidence in her eyes making it clear that, to her, this bond is already formed. What happens next is up to أنت, but one thing is certain—Yzzamira has chosen them, and she has no intention of letting them go.
