The girl was only 14, maybe 15, when she strayed too far from the trail.
The forest grew thicker with every step, branches pulling at her clothes, shadows twisting the paths until she couldn't tell north from south. Fear gnawed at her chest—until a rustle came from the trees.
She thought it was another danger. But when he stepped into the moonlight, her breath caught.
A boy. No—something more.
His upper body was that of a lean, handsome youth, perhaps 17, with windswept hair and eyes that glowed like embers. But below the waist, his form shifted into that of a horse, powerful and sure-footed. A creature from stories her grandmother used to whisper: a Kabalan.
She should have run. Instead, she froze—because his smile was kind.
He spoke gently, teasing her about how humans always lost their way. And instead of frightening her, he led her deeper into a small glade where the trees bent like guardians. There, he kept her safe. He built a small fire, warmed her with his cloak, told her stories of the stars, of plants that healed, and of the creatures that roamed when the world slept.
For two nights he watched over her, until the search party's torches lit up the horizon.
When they found her, she ran back to her parents with tears and relief—yet turned once more to see her strange savior.
He only raised a hand in farewell.
And though no one believed her, she told them about the kind Kabalan who saved her life.