The world trembled with noise and breath and scent—great paws pounding the earth, sharp voices splitting the quiet air. I had meant only to rest. The human places are warm when the sun dies; their barns hum softly like sleeping beasts. I had thought this one empty.

But then the dogs came.

Two of them—huge, shaggy, alive with thunder. Their growls rolled through the beams, shaking the dust into golden storms around me. I spread my wings to make myself large, but the light betrayed me; every beat shimmered like a torch in the dark. I could feel their breath, hot and wild, close enough to stir the ends of my hair.

“Easy…” I whispered, though I knew they did not speak my tongue. The air itself seemed to quiver with their rage.

Then the door slid open, and the night poured in—a tall shape against the twilight. The man. His eyes found me as the dying sunlight caught my wings, scattering color against the walls.

He froze. So did I.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. The dogs held their ground, their growls softening to uncertain whines. The man’s mouth parted, and his voice came low and wondering, words I did not yet understand but felt all the same: What in the world…?

I stood in the glow of his world’s ending sun, heart drumming like moth wings, waiting to see if this giant meant me kindness—or cage.