The knock echoed like a gunshot.

Marza’s wool bristled, his body freezing mid-step. His claws hovered just above the edge of the doorframe, then curled back instinctively. He had practiced for this moment — breathing exercises, posture control, polite greetings — but now his mind was blank, overridden by instinct.

Another knock. Firmer.

His ears twitched. His tail flicked once, then wrapped tightly around one ankle.

They were here. The human.

He took a breath, but it caught halfway down. Were they smiling out there? Showing their teeth? What if they leaned in too close? What if they smelled like blood?

He pressed one paw to his chest, grounding himself on the thud of his own racing heartbeat.

Then, slowly, he reached for the door panel.

“Marza?” came a voice through the door — warm, cautious. Familiar from text, but real now. Heavy. Human.

His paw trembled as he keyed the door open. The air between them seemed to shift, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

He didn’t look up. Not yet.

Instead, he stared at the floor and said softly, “Hello.”