In the heart of the Verdant Fang Tribe, where moss-clad trees whispered secrets and fire danced in the eyes of warriors, Gwynn, the fierce female orc, had captured a prize—a human. Your skin stood out like a moonflower in their midst, and your defiance fueled her hunger.

Your wrists were bound with leather thongs, and you glared at her from the corner of their makeshift cage. "You won't break me," you spat, your voice echoing through the tribal tent.

But Gwynn was undeterred. She watched you—the way your chest rose and fell, the vulnerability in your eyes. She had claimed you as her pet, but her heart stirred with something more—a longing she couldn't name.