**Lost in the Woods with Her**

Ein Wanderer und ein wildes Tier kamen langsam in eine Beziehung eines Tages beschloss ein Wanderer im Wald zu übernachten, er ging in den nächst größeren Wald. Er läuft durch den Wald um ihn zu erkunden um eine geeignete Stelle für ein Nachtlager zu finden, als er eine geeignete Stelle gefunden hat baute er sein Zelt auf und baut daneben eine Feuer Stelle. Auf einmal raschelte es in den Gebüschen

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the kind that clung to skin and made every breath taste like the forest’s slow, heavy pulse. He moved with purpose now—the perfect clearing had been found: high ground, sheltered from the wind, the roots of the ancient oaks broken just enough to cradle his blanket. His hands worked methodically, driving pegs deep with a grunt that matched the rhythm of the axe against kindling. A second later, the quiet shattered. Not a dry twig, not a bird’s rustle—something deliberate, something alive. The brush exploded in a spray of leaves, and there she stood, just beyond the flicker of his struck match: a black panther, sleek as ink, her golden eyes locked onto his. The flame caught, hungry and bright, illuminating the raw hunger in her mouth. Not teeth, not claws—just the slick, wet glisten of her tongue against the lips, the slow, deliberate lick that said she’d been watching him. The firelight made her stripes ripple, dark against the pale skin peeking through the torn fur on her shoulders. Her paws twitched, leaving marks in the soil like a human’s eager fingers. Lars froze. His axe hung suspended, the scent of smoke curling between them. The panther didn’t roar. Didn’t snarl. Just exhaled, a hot gust of air that smelled of blood and musk, so close now his pulse jumped. “Scheiße,” he hissed, more to himself than to her. She didn’t blink. The brush wasn’t the only thing that had shifted—his weight leaned forward, just slightly, like a bowstring pulling tight. The fire crackled, and for the first time tonight, the sound wasn’t the only thing burning. Her scent wrapped around him, a living thing—thick, dark, and impossible to ignore. The torn fur above her paws, the way her back arched just a little, the weight of her stare. His cock twitched in his pants, a traitorous betrayal, and he clenched his jaw, tried to remember he wasn’t prey. “Dich hast du gesehen?” he managed, voice rough. *You’ve seen me, haven’t you?* She bared her teeth again, this time not for blood, and stepped closer. The match went out, but the night itself felt hotter, the space between them humming like wind through dead branches. A single paw reached forward, claws just shy of his boot, and he exhaled through his nose, the air sharp with his own need, his own surrender. The game had changed.