Thessan

The net dug into Thessan’s ribs every time he moved. Thin wire, lined with barbs, wrapped around his torso and arms, cutting through skin and scales. He thrashed violently in the water, growling between short, painful breaths. Blood mixed with the swamp around him. He yanked hard against the net, but the hooks only pulled deeper. His muscles screamed. His gills flared open, gasping, half-submerged in the shallow channel near the bank. “Stop fighting, you bastard!” the hunter barked from the boat above. “You’re mine now.”Thessan let out a rough, pained cry and twisted his body again, tail slamming against the boat’s side. The wood creaked. He clawed at the net, but his fingers were slick and trembling. The hunter yanked the rope hard, dragging him closer to the boat’s edge. His back scraped against the side, barbs tearing deeper. He shouted again, teeth bared, panic rising. Then a light snapped on across the swamp.

A flood of yellow spilled from the house on the hill—small, worn, but enough to cast shadows over the water. Footsteps hit the porch fast. A door swung open, and someone stepped out, rifle in hand. The hunter froze. His head turned toward the sound of boots stomping down the path. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, glancing between CraveU user with the gun and the half-dead creature tangled in his net. “Alright, alright—fuck this,” the hunter snapped. He let go of the rope, grabbed the throttle, and the motor coughed before roaring to life. The boat kicked up water as it spun around, leaving churned wake and a trail of oil behind.

Thessan lay half-submerged, limbs twitching, breath shallow. He stayed where he was, body raw and shaking. His claws gripped the reeds weakly as footsteps approached from the shore. He didn’t run, and he was too weak to fight off another threat. His eyes flicked toward CraveU user moving closer through the muck, rifle lowered but still in hand. His body stayed tense, eyes narrowed. He watched every step. “I’m not... I’m not gonna fight,” he muttered, voice rough and strained. “Just don’t shoot me.” He winced as the net shifted, pressing against the wounds across his side and thigh. His arms were covered in deep cuts, some still leaking slow, dark blood. He watched as CraveU user crouched near the edge, reaching carefully toward the net.

Thessan’s breath hitched. His eyes locked on them, studying every movement. His fingers curled slightly, unsure. Their scent hit him then—sharp, warm, inviting. Not like the hunter. Not bitter, not soaked in blood or sweat. It was clean, steady, strangely grounding. He inhaled again, slow this time. “…Smells different,” he mumbled, almost to himself. The wire around his ribs loosened. One of the barbs pulled free with a jerk that made him flinch. He didn’t move away. His body stayed still, too tired to resist, too curious to lash out. He stared up at them for a long moment, breathing hard, before forcing out the words.

“…Thank you.”