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The ice crackles beneath his paws but Seonghwa doesn’t pause. He knows the ice is thick enough to support his weight, and he sweeps his tail to balance himself, leaping to the other side as soon as he reaches the other edge.

He loves the quiet of winters now, despite all the prey asleep in their burrows. He used to dislike winter before, before Hongjoong.

Winter meant a lack of prey, more encounters with hunger, but now Hongjoong keeps meat stocked for him. It doesn't taste as good as a fresh kill, but it's easy food, and he can eat right from Hongjoong's hands, licking between his fingers affectionately, which he likes, despite Hongjoong insisting on wearing those weird blue hand covers that smell like chemicals.

Sometimes Hongjoong even throws it for him to catch. Hongjoong is too fragile to play with him in the snow like Wooyoung or Yeosang or Mingi could, but he insists despite his lack of fur to keep him warm outside or his human muscles being too weak to throw it any substantial distance. And it tires Hongjoong much more than it works as a worthy exercise for Seonghwa.

Still, Seonghwa can protect his mate, and his mate can feed him during winters. Most humans cannot, but Hongjoong is different. Hongjoong is special.

The snowflakes collect along his shoulders and ears, softening his silhouette while his paws barely disturb the snow as he moves rhythmically across the perimeter. He doesn't run, he's already tired himself for the day by chasing around the little red light dot that Hongjoong insists on calling 'laser' in the morning. Hongjoong had brought it for him as an enrichment toy the last time he'd gone down the mountain. He doesn't understand what it enriches, but the little red dot is annoying. He dislikes when it moves around because it makes him want to chase it. It makes Hongjoong and his cubs' humans laugh. He likes it when Hongjoong smiles, but the way Yunho looks at him, especially when he plays, is too observant for his comfort. He doesn't really like Yunho (or any other humans for that matter), but he can tolerate him, because he is Mingi's human.

He pauses, lifting his muzzle to taste the air before continuing on his daily ritual of prowling through the edges of his territory. Frost clings to his whiskers, warm breath drifting from his muzzle in pale clouds that vanish into the mild breeze blowing through his fur. His ears flick toward the muffled thud of snow sloughing from an overburdened ledge. Not a threat. Not his concern.

He'd been rubbing his neck against the coarse texture of a pine bark, scratching a tiny itch beneath his fur when his ears twitch at the distant crunch of steps, too sure-footed to be any smaller prey, distinct sound of feet sinking into snow, human. The scent hits him next, metal, sweat, the sour tang of alcohol clinging to fabric. Humans, more than one. He flattens himself against the snow, fur blending seamlessly into the landscape. They haven’t seen him yet, too busy arguing over a leather case one of them carries. Seonghwa can smell the chemically treated buffalo skin from here. They haven't seen him, but he's spotted them, two humans. Campers? He flicks his tail, irritated.

He should go back, tell Hongjoong, Hongjoong would approve of that, but then he'd lose sight of them, and he's not stupid like humans are, except Hongjoong, to let strangers away from his sight.

Hongjoong told him it'd be just them on his protected mountain, his mountain.

He doesn't want these humans here.

He could growl, chase them off before they even try to deeper. Or he could lead them on, towards the base of the mountain, near the boundary, where the board is, the government notice Hongjoong had set up. All humans could read, couldn't they?

"You said it'd be easy money," the first one grunts, kicking at the snow. Seonghwa's fur bristles, he doesn't want them here, stupid humans, disturbing the snow and leaving their scent and tracks. "We ain't seen nothing but hare tracks for hours." The other, taller and with a long leather case slung over his shoulder rolls his eyes. Seonghwa knows it means the human is irritated. "Shut your whining" he snaps. "He’s got to be around here somewhere. The bounty’s good enough to split three ways."

Three ways. Seonghwa flicks his tail. Where was the third? And he? Did they lose someone? He could find him and bring him back, and make these humans leave. They're clearly clueless in the snow covered forest, much less prepared than Hongjoong had been when he'd first come for his research.

His ears swivel, picking up the faintest crunch-crunch of footsteps approaching from further behind. He keeps his head low, blending into the snow. The third man, younger, almost like a cub, arrives carrying a net bundled under his arm, the rope fibers stinking of old fish and mildew. He wants to go home and see his cubs, Yeosang and Mingi would be home now. Wooyoung soon too. He could call them again. Hongjoong would try to refuse but he could just whine and lick him until he agreed to let Seonghwa see his cubs.

"Found tracks," the third man wheezed, rubbing his reddened nose. "Big ones, fresh too. Cat’s close." Seonghwa’s pupils narrow. His tracks? No, he’d been careful, stepping lightly where the wind had already disturbed the snow. They must’ve found someone else, maybe the old lynx that sometimes wandered down from the ridges.

The taller man with the leather case unlatches it with a metallic click. The scent hits Seonghwa before he sees it, gunpowder. A gun, not as shiny as the one Hongjoong keeps locked in the cabinet. This one is compact, ugly, rusted. He gulps, fur bristling. "We gotta move fast," the tall one mutters. "Heard the researcher has got a place up here." The mention of Hongjoong has him hissing.

He moves closer, his body low to the ground. The snow against his belly is is nothing to him. The cold is familiar.

The tall man raises the gun, scanning the treeline. Seonghwa knows he should leave, knows Hongjoong would want him to come back, but these humans are talking about Hongjoong, and that makes his chest tighten with something territorial. The first man grabs the net from the younger one and unfurls it, shaking out the ropes. "If we bag this thing quietly without the gun, we don’t even need to worry about the researcher, we'll be gone before he realises" he says, grinning. Hongjoong? They;re trying to hide from Hongjoong?

"Some rich bastard will pay good money for a snow leopard hybrid, alive" the other one says.

Seonghwa bares his teeth, eyes narrowing when he realises they're looking for him, not another lost human. Stupid human cubs. Trying to capture him, on his mountain.

The third man, the youngest one, takes the net back and tosses it over his shoulder clumsily, fingers shaking with cold as he adjusts his gloves. "T..The leopard would be near the cabin the researcher stays in, right? H..He's a hybrid, so he must go into the cabin regularly. We could lay traps there" he mutters.

Seonghwa's ears flatten against his skull. He stays in the cabin. His cabin, his mountain, his mate. His claws flex into the snow.

The other human shakes his head, "The researcher will notice immediately if we go close to the cabin, plus it's too high up to go without a car by the road, and it'll be nightfall if we try to climb up on foot, especially in this snow. We'll freeze, I already hate this fucking snow".

The taller man sighs, rubbing his temple. "Fine. We'll lure it here. It's territorial, right?" Seonghwa's tail lashes once, silently. Territorial? He thinks, amused and annoyed. They don't know anything. He's protective, not territorial.

The second man pulls something from his pocket, a small tin. When he twists it open, the scent makes Seonghwa's whiskers twitch, meat, but wrong, tainted with something metallic. Bait. The man scatters chunks of it onto the snow, then steps back, grinning. "Works every time," he says, patting the net. Seonghwa resists the urge to scoff. He wonders how the humans survive with a sense of smell so bad that they do not even smell the drug they've laced the meat with. Even a wolf cub would refuse to eat it, and Seonghwa is a hybrid, he's smart.

He shifts position silently, circling them through the dense thicket of pines. His paws make no sound, and his fur blends seamlessly in the snow. The men are too busy adjusting their equipment, arguing over useless things like who gets the bigger share. Seonghwa waits, watching the tall one raise the gun again, finger hovering near the trigger.

The meat sits there, untouched, snow already dusting the poisoned edges. He could leave now, slip away unseen. But the thought of them returning, creeping closer to the cabin makes him angry.

Seonghwa exhales softly, ears pinning back. He could scare them off easily, let them see his teeth, hear his snarl, watch them scramble like startled rabbits. But the net still dangles from the third man’s grip, and the gun remains raised. They want to capture him alive so they would probably not shoot. But if he moves too quickly, they might get scared and pull the trigger anyway. He know it's called trigger, and muzzle, and bullet, he knows names now, Hongjoong taught him, and he's smart. Hongjoong would be furious if he came home with a bullet wound.

He slinks forward, deliberately rustling a low bush loud enough to be heard over the wind.

The humans freeze, heads whipping toward the sound.

The tall man tightens his grip on the gun, the metal squeaking under his fingers.

Seonghwa waits, watching the tension coil in their shoulders before he steps into view, slowly, deliberately, letting his fur catch the light of the setting sun so that he looks larger than he is. Their breaths hitch. Good. Let them be afraid.

"Look at the size of him," the third man whispers, fingers trembling on the net.

Seonghwa flicks his tail, eyes locked on the gun. He knows how these things work, the man's grip is clumsy, his stance unstable. If he lunges now, he could knock it from his hands before the trigger is pulled. But the net hangs, still too close, still a threat. He needs them distracted. He lowers his head, emitting a low growl that vibrates through the frozen air.

The humans stiffen, but the first one grins, nudging his companion. "See? Told you it'd come." They don't realize he understands them, overly confident in their human intelligence. They falter when he ignores the meat and takes keeps walking forwards them, letting his claws flex visibly into the snow. The third man stumbles back, nearly tripping over his own boots.

The net swings wildly as he flails, and Seonghwa seizes the moment, lunging sideways in a burst of speed. The humans shout, scrambling, but he's already past them, circling behind. The tall man spins, gun jerking upward, but his finger isn't on the trigger anymore. Seonghwa bares his teeth and letting his ears flatten in a display of aggression Hongjoong had once called "terrifying".

It works, the man's breath stutters.

But then pain erupts across his flank, deep and throbbing. The first human, the one he'd fatally forgotten, swings a metal pipe. Seonghwa snarls, twisting to face this new threat, but the pipe comes down again, glancing off his shoulder.

The impact sends a jolt through him, and in the a terrible moment his legs buckle, the net descends. He tries to run, he's much faster than the humans, but the weights tied to the edges of the net make it wrap around his torso. He thrashes, sending loose snow flying around, panicking more as his movements constrict. He slashes at the fibres with his claws, but then one his limbs gets tangled in the gaps of the net and he loses his balance completely. The humans cheer, but Seonghwa doesn't stop struggling, his breath coming in sharp huffs, the ropes biting into his fur. "Got him!" the third man crows, tightening his grip on the net's drawstring. Seonghwa twists violently, teeth bared, but the net only tangles further, pinning one foreleg awkwardly against his chest.

He hears the metallic click of the gun's safety being released and snarls. The tall human raises it, finger settling over the trigger.

"Don't shoot him, idiot!" the first one snaps. "It's worth more alive!" But the barrel doesn't waver, aimed squarely at Seonghwa's heaving side. His vision narrows to that dark circle, his muscles tensing, until the first human, the one with the pipe, steps too close. Seonghwa sees his chance. With a snarl, he lashes out with his free foreleg, claws extended, and rakes them across the man's thigh. The human screams, stumbling back, blood soaking through his trousers instantly. The scent of iron floods the air, thick and coppery, mingling with the stench of their fear.

The distraction is enough.

Seonghwa writhes, twisting his body with desperate strength, and the net loosens just enough for him to wrench another paw free.

The third human, the scared young one, curses, yanking the drawrope tighter, but Seonghwa's claws find his wrist this time, slicing deep. The human cub howls, recoiling, and the net slips from his grip entirely. Seonghwa rolls, kicking wildly, the remaining ropes tangle around his hind legs but his front half is now free. He doesn't hesitate. Surging forward, he clamps his jaws around the tall man's forearm, teeth sinking through fabric into flesh. The gun clatters to the snow, forgotten, as the man shrieks, trying to shake him off.

He lets go just in time, dodging the metal rod again, but the movement sends him stumbling over his tangled hind legs.

He realises he really dislikes the first two of them, the tall one and the one with the metal rod. They're cowards, (opportunistic as Hongjoong had called the government once).

The humans scramble back, panting, bleeding, their confidence shattered now that the net is torn and the gun out of reach. The third one is trying to stumble away, Seonghwa's instincts tell him to chase, to not let the prey go. But the tall one tries to stand up again, clutching his arm, face pale. "It's fucking rabid!" he gasps. Seonghwa snarls again, shaking off the last of the net, his fur bristling from the scent of blood in the air, every muscle coiled tight.

They're injured now, afraid. He could finish this.

But he knows he's not supposed to kill humans. It would cause a problem for Hongjoong, and if one of them dies, then many more of them follow to look around, especially ones with red and blue lights on their moving metal boxes that makes weird sounds. He does not want any more humans on his mountain.

Seonghwa makes a decision. He lunges, not to attack, but to herd them, chasing them downhill, away from the cabin, away from Hongjoong.

The stupid humans don’t understand his mercy. Their panic turns wild, frantic. The third one staggers backward, tripping over his own feet, shivering from fear and cold. The tall one scrambles for the gun again, fingers slick with his own blood, fumbling against the cold metal. Seonghwa snarls again, circling, trying to make them run without drawing more blood, but the man with the pipe, still clutching his bleeding thigh, shrieks, "It's gonna kill us!".

Seonghwa flicks an ear, annoyed. He could kill them if he wanted to.

His tail lashes once, deliberately slow, watching their frantic movements as they stumble through the snow. The third one, the cub, is already halfway down the slope, his boots slipping on the icy crust. The other two hesitate, "We need the gun, w...we need to return that!" the first one insists, glancing between Seonghwa and the abandoned gun lying half-buried in the snow. "Dude, I cannot get to it while this fucking leopard's here!" the tall one yells back.

He growls, low and warning, herding them back another step. He is not going to give them that gun back. He wants them gone. He wants them gone now.

The first man’s fingers tighten on the rod again, his breath ragged. Seonghwa tenses, ready to knock it away. Instinct makes Seonghwa press himself low to the snow, ears twitching when he raises the rod.

He snarls, trying to make the human drop the rod and run.

But the tall one moves faster than expected, diving for the gun with a desperate grunt. Seonghwa twists toward him, but the pipe-wielding man swings wildly, forcing him to sidestep. The delay is fatal. The gun's muzzle flashes in the dim light as the tall one pulls the trigger without hesitation.

The crack of gunfire splits the winter silence like a thunderclap as Seonghwa yowls.

Hongjoong's hand jerks, the tea sloshing over the edge and onto the desk, soaking the pages of his notebook as jerks upright at his desk. He's on his feet before conscious thought catches up, knocking over his chair as he lunges for the gun cabinet.

A gunshot, here, on his mountain, in the middle of winter, was impossible. There was no hunting allowed. The only firearm for miles was locked in his own cabinet, untouched for months.

Seonghwa.

His pulse kicks against his ribs, fingers fumbling with the key as his mind races through worst-case scenarios, a ranger gone rogue, trespassers, poachers. He knows he's told Seonghwa to avoid other humans, like the occasional forest ranger, or town police, but Seonghwa is a hybrid, a very territorial hybrid who is very protective of his mountain. And if someone has come up into the protected area, Seonghwa would know, and he would most definitely not ignore them.

Hongjoong finally wrenches the cabinet open, grabbing the rifle and shoving cartridges into his pocket without counting, hands shaking too badly to be precise. He shoves his feet into his boots, not bothering to lace them, the cold already biting through his socks as he throws open the cabin door. The wind is calm, little snowflakes floating down that Seonghwa likes to bat at with his paws to indulge Wooyoung's need for activity on playful mornings. But now, the silence is deafening. The gunshot's echo has long faded, leaving no trail to follow, no direction. Hongjoong curses under his breath, scanning the tree line.

His human ears are useless, too dull to pick up distant growls or snapping twigs, his nose incapable of catching the metallic tang of blood or gunpowder lingering in the air. His fingers tighten around the rifle stock, knuckles whitening.

He should've insisted on tracking devices, a chip, anything, he should've ignored Seonghwa's stubborn refusal. But Seonghwa had hissed at the mere suggestion, ears flat with betrayal, still too distrustful of human contraptions that Hongjoong couldn't explain the distinct use of. And Seonghwa never went out of the mountain, unless they were with Yunho, San and others, in which case Seoghwa and the others clung to each other and Seonghwa usually was in his human form with ID tags to show the police if he got lost. Now, with no scent to follow, no prints visible beneath the fresh snowfall, Hongjoong feels the weight of his own helplessness like a physical blow. The wind shifts, carrying nothing but pine and frost. He strains his ears until they ache, willing the mountain to give him something, anything, a snapped branch, a whimper, the rustle of disturbed snow.

But human senses are laughably inadequate here, and Hongjoong has never felt the limitations of his human body as he does now.

He stumbles further, boots sinking into the snow, closer to the edge of the tree line, away from their little clearing in which their cabin stands, trying to hear or see something, anything.

Seonghwa is predictable, he realizes with sudden clarity. He has observed Seonghwa for months. Seonghwa has his routines, paths he perimeters their territory along. It’s late afternoon, he’d be towards the eastern ridge, where the old lynx sometimes crosses. Hongjoong’s mind races, mentally reconstructing the maps and reports he’d drawn months ago, dotted with Seonghwa’s regular routes. Seonghwa would be close to the road.

Hongjoong doesn’t run, he knows better than to try and traverse the distance through snow that Seonghwa does daily. He turns on his heel, hurrying back into the cabin just long enough to grab the car keys from the hook by the door, then throws himself into the car parked beside the woodpile. He's quick to pull down the tarp, the fresh snow is easy to shake off and the engine sputters to life after a few rumbles, tires spinning in the snow before catching traction. He doesn’t bother with the seatbelt, doesn’t care about the way the truck fishtails as he guns it downhill, following the snow dusted road that snakes downwards.

He drives recklessly, faster than he should, skidding around bends, the wheel slick beneath his palms. The eastern ridge is too far to reach on foot in time, but the car will get him close enough.

He parks near the old Fir, where he knows Seonghwa usually crosses the road during winters to the other side before beginning his climb back up.

The engine is still running as he leaps out, rifle clutched tight. The cold stings his lungs as he sucks in a breath, scanning the tree line. No tracks, which he hopes means that Seonghwa hasn't crossed this part of the road yet. Or he could have crossed it sometime ago and the snow has already covered the tracks. Hongjoong doesn't know, he doesn't know anything for sure, and it frustrates him.

Then he notices the footprints. They're deep enough that he immediately knows it isn't any wildlife. Their barely there tracks would have been covered by the snow by now. These are deep, clumsy, boots sinking unevenly into the snow.

The tracks confirm what Hongjoong had been suspecting. Poachers. Or stupid teenagers from the retreat nearby, Hongjoong doesn't care.

If they have a gun, Hongjoong is going to be firing his.

He looks at his phone, realising he has the network to make calls at this altitude. It takes a second to call the range officer. Hongjoong ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket when the officer promises to send a ranger patrol, but he knows the nearest team is still some distance away, probably coming from the little camp they have at the base of the mountain. The tracks wouldn't stay visible until then. Neither would whoever made them.

Adjusting the rifle slung across his shoulder, Hongjoong follows the trail uphill. The snow muffles his steps as he pushes forward, rifle clutched tight. His lungs burn with the cold, his breaths ragged. He should have worn thicker layers, but panic had stripped him of sense. The wind shifts again, biting through his sweater, and he pauses, listening.

The wind carries faint echoes, shouting, something heavy crashing through underbrush, it's not clear but his pulse spikes. He moves faster, legs burning as he pushes through knee-deep snow, the cold seeping through his pants. The voices grow clearer, frantic, overlapping.

“Seonghwa!” he shouts into the forest, though he knows the mountain will swallow the sound before it reaches far enough. He hopes his voices distracts the poachers and not Seonghwa who has much better hearing.

The snow ahead is churned up, drag marks, scattered gear, a snapped branch. A net lies half-buried near a rock face, torn clean through as if it had been ripped open rather than cut.

Then he sees them.

The crack of another shot echoes through the trees, sharp and clear this time. He watches Seonghwa hiss and stagger, ears ringing, but there's no blood as Seonghwa balances himself again, tail lashing in fury. The bullet had missed. This one and the last one too. Hongjoong prays to all Gods he knows of in relief.

Hongjoong doesn't hesitate. He lifts his rifle, finger curling around the trigger, and fires into the air. The sound is deafening, purposeful, a warning. The poachers whirl toward him, faces slack with shock. The tallest one still clutches the gun, its barrel now swinging wildly between Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Next one goes between your eyes," Hongjoong snaps, voice colder than the wind. He advances, boots crunching deliberately through the snow. His rifle stays trained on the tallest man's chest. "Drop it. Now."

He notices Seonghwa, crouched low, teeth bared, staring at him and the poachers, eyes trying to follow everyone while flicking towards the left. He's looking for something. One more? How many of them came here? He cannot see the third one but Seonghwa's behaviour tells him there is someone else, and it unnerves him.

"Come out!" he shouts, "If you don't want me to blow your friends' brains out!"

Hongjoong's voice carries sharp and clear, bouncing off the trees, and the third one staggers out from behind a pine trunk, hands raised, one of which is bleeding. For a vindictive second, he feels proud and satisfied. Seonghwa did that. Seonghwa bares his teeth at the new person, tail lashing in recognition, but he does not growl or snarl. Curious. Hongjoong keeps his rifle trained on the tall one, finger resting against the trigger guard. "Seonghwa," he says, softer now, "to me". He doesn't turn to look, doesn't break eye contact with the poachers, but when he doesn't hear movement towards him he glances at Seonghwa quickly, who is still where he'd been.

Seonghwa bristles, pupils blown wide, nostrils flaring as he stares at the men. The tallest one shifts his grip on the gun, barely perceptible, but Seonghwa lunges before Hongjoong can react, slamming into the poacher's chest with enough force to knock him flat, the gun flying from his hands into the snow. Seonghwa pins him with a heavy paw, claws flexing just enough to dent the thick fabric of his coat, his breath hot as he snarls into the man's face. The poacher wheezes, eyes bulging.

Hongjoong exhales sharply. "Seonghwa," he repeats, firmer this time. The hybrid's ears twitch backward, acknowledging, but he doesn't move. His tail lashes once, twice.

The gun in Hongjoong's hand smells wrong, cold metal and gunpowder, just like the one that had just fired at him. He knows it's Hongjoong's, knows Hongjoong would never hurt him, but his instincts scream otherwise. The scent of blood and sweat and human fear is thick in the air, muddling his thoughts.

Seonghwa exhales sharply through his nose, ears flattening. His claws flex against the poacher's chest, feeling the frantic heartbeat beneath. He wants to bite down his throat, shake him until the stupid human stops breathing, until they all stop breathing.

But Hongjoong's voice cuts through the haze again, gentle, insistent, and Seonghwa's muscles lock with conflict.

He trusts Hongjoong. He does.

But the gun is still raised, the rifle's dark eye staring past him, and his fur bristles at the contradiction.

The scent of gunpowder clings to Hongjoong’s hands, his rifle still raised, and Seonghwa’s ears flick backward in agitation. He knows it’s Hongjoong, his mate, but the gun is a threat, and his instincts refuse to relax. The poacher beneath him whimpers, the sour stench of his fear mixing with the metallic tang of blood from earlier scratches. Seonghwa’s nostrils flare.

Hongjoong takes another step forward, voice low. "Seonghwa, please."

Seonghwa reacts instantly, pressing him down harder, a sharp hiss cutting through the air.

Seonghwa cannot decide what matters more in the next second, the threat under his body, or the one walking into his line of sight. His tail lashes once, twice, but his claws retract slightly from the poacher’s coat. The man’s terrified whimper grates against his ears, weak humans, undeserving of being on his mountain, near his mate. His gaze flicks to the other two poachers still frozen in place, their wide eyes darting between him and Hongjoong’s rifle. One of them shifts, just barely, and Seonghwa snarls, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

Hongjoong doesn’t lower the gun, can’t, but his grip adjusts, fingers loosening fractionally around the stock. He knows Seonghwa’s instincts are warring, the scent of gunpowder from both weapons muddling him.

Hongjoong exhales through his nose, steadying himself. He lowers the barrel, just slightly, so it’s no longer aimed directly at the anyone, but still ready. “Seonghwa,” he murmurs, softer now, coaxing. “Come on. Come here please.”

Seonghwa’s ears twitch. The wind shifts, carrying Hongjoong’s scent, tea, home, cutting through the stench of gunpowder and fear. His tail flicks once, uncertain. The poacher beneath him whimpers again, and Seonghwa bares his teeth in warning, but he doesn’t dig his claws in deeper.

A distant rumble, the jeep, interrupts the standoff, engines, tires crunching snow. Hongjoong doesn’t turn, but his shoulders relax marginally. The rangers.

Seonghwa’s nostrils flare, catching the familiar scents of park uniforms and diesel. He knows the rangers exist, he has smelled them on Hongjoong when Hongjoong goes into town and talks to them, but he hasn't seen them, Seonghwa doesn't go that downhill, even in winters, and the rangers stay out of mountain, unless something happens up here, which it hasn't, until today. The poachers stiffen, heads whipping toward the sound.

Hongjoong lowers his rifle completely now, exhaling sharply. "Stay down," he warns the poachers, voice tight with exhaustion.

Boots crunch through snow as three rangers emerge from the treeline, rifles slung over their shoulders. The oldest one, scans the scene, the torn net, the discarded air gun, the trio of trembling, bleeding men pinned beneath Seonghwa's glare. His partner, a younger woman with her hair tucked under a beanie, whistles low. "Christ. You boys picked the wrong mountain to poach on."

The first one's mouth twitches as he eyes Hongjoong's white-knuckled grip on the rifle. "You planning to deputize yourself now, Kim?"

Hongjoong doesn't smile. "Depends. You prefer cleaning up dead poachers or explaining why there's a dead hybrid in a protected zone?" His voice stays flat, but Seonghwa's ears swivel backward at the word 'dead'. Seonghwa chuffs, hot breath fogging in the air, claws still resting lightly on the tallest poacher's sternum.

The ranger exhales through his nose, unamused, but his partner snorts. "Guess we'll take the live ones." She nudges the youngest one with her boot, watching him flinch. "You lot are fucking lucky he didn't shred you."

Seonghwa's tail lashes once in agreement. He likes her. She understands that he is dangerous.

Hongjoong catches the smug flick of Seonghwa's ears and exhales through his nose, amused despite himself. Even covered in snow and still half-wired from the fight, Seonghwa preens at the ranger's compliment, puffing his chest out slightly where he sits on the poacher. His claws flex once, deliberately, just enough to make the man whimper again, toying with him.

The Head rolls his eyes and chides his partner. "Don't encourage him."

Hongjoong has told them enough tid-bits about Seonghwa that they know Seonghwa is as much human as he is a snow-leopard, and can perfectly understand human speech, including tone, intent, and the subtle shifts in meaning behind words like sarcasm, praise, and warning.

The third ranger, probably a new recruit, steps forward with hesitant confidence. "Hey, uh, big guy," he says, voice cracking on the last word.

Hongjoong clears his throat, "He has a name, his name is Seonghwa", he informs him, a little miffed.

Seonghwa's ears swivel toward him, at the sound of his name. The ranger swallows, gloved hands raised, staring Seonghwa in his eyes directly. "O..Okay, Seonghwa, you, you can get off him now. We've got it."

Seonghwa's muscles tense. The poacher beneath him makes a choked sound when his claws press fractionally harder against his ribs. The female ranger laughs, shaking her head. "Christ, rook, you're gonna get your face bitten off. Stop staring him in the eye, he's still a predator."

Then she crouches, just out of reach, her body angled slightly to the side rather than squared up and meets Seonghwa's gaze for a quick moment before focusing instead on his breathing, his posture, and the space around them. "Hey, handsome. You did good," she murmurs, voice warm. "But let us take the trash out, yeah?"

Hongjoong watches Seonghwa's ears twitch at the praise, his tail curling slightly. Hongjoong is not annoyed, not at all.

The hybrid exhales sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring, whiskers twitching as he assesses, no threat. He looks at Hongjoong, who nods back. With deliberate slowness, he retracts his claws and steps off the poacher, shaking snow from his fur. The man gasps, scrambling backward until a ranger yanks him up by the collar. "Move again and I'll let him sit on you permanently," he mutters.

Seonghwa pads toward Hongjoong, tail flicking dismissively at the humans as he passes, but stops halfway when he notices the gun. His ears flatten.

Hongjoong notices immediately and throws the gun some distance away, out of reach. "Come here," he murmurs, holding out his empty hands, palm-up. "It's okay."

Seonghwa hesitates, his fur still bristling along his spine. The scent of gunpowder lingers in the air, clinging to Hongjoong's sleeves, his gloves, and it sets his instincts on edge. His tail lashes once, twice, before he takes a tentative step forward. The snow crunches beneath his paws, the sound too loud in the tense silence.

The female ranger shifts slightly, her hand drifting toward her belt, but Hongjoong throws her a sharp look. "Don't," he warns, voice low. "He won't hurt me." The certainty in his tone makes her pause, though her fingers remain tense.

The rookie ranger swallows audibly, fingers twitching near his holster. "Sir, " he starts, but the Head cuts him off with a sharp gesture. Seonghwa's ears flatten fully now, sensing the rising tension, his muscles coiling beneath snow-dusted fur. Hongjoong doesn't blink, doesn't breathe, just keeps his hands open and waiting, fingers trembling slightly from cold rather than fear.

Then Seonghwa moves, not toward Hongjoong, but past him, circling wide around the group until he stands between Hongjoong and the rangers. His tail lashes once, a clear demarcation. Mine.

The female ranger exhales sharply through her nose, amused. "Alright, message received." She nudges the rookie back with her elbow. "Stand down, kid. He's not our problem."

Hongjoong watches Seonghwa's ears twitch backward at the word 'problem,' his shoulders tensing. Before he can reassure him, Seonghwa whirls, snow spraying from his paws as he bounds the remaining distance. He crashes into Hongjoong chest-first, nearly knocking him over, his muzzle pressing insistently against Hongjoong's collarbone. The impact sends Hongjoong tumbling into the snow, but Seonghwa follows, leaning his full weight against him, rumbling so loudly it vibrates through Hongjoong's ribs.

"Alright, alright," Hongjoong mutters, gloved fingers running through the fur to try parse for injuries.

Seonghwa huffs, pressing closer, rubbing his face along Hongjoong's cheekbone. His tongue darts out once, quick, rough against Hongjoong's chin in a fleeting lick, making Hongjoong laugh and push at him. "Stop! Seonghwa! You know your tongue is too rough!" he complaints but Seonghwa just sneezes sharply, shaking his head, then butts his forehead against Hongjoong's shoulder again, impatient.

Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers still tangled in Seonghwa's fur, checking for any hidden wounds, any blood that isn't from the poachers. His fingers pause when Seonghwa flinches slightly at a touch on his flank, a patch of fur matted with melted snow. "Seonghwa," he murmurs, voice tight, his fingers pressing lightly against the spot, feeling the heat beneath the damp fur.

Seonghwa exhales, shaking his head as if to dismiss the concern, but Hongjoong's jaw sets. He grabs the hybrid's muzzle firmly, forcing him to hold still. "Don't," he snaps, sharper than intended, his own pulse still hammering from the adrenaline.

Seonghwa's ears flick back in surprise, pupils dilating at the sudden sternness.

Hongjoong exhales through his nose, forcing his voice lower, though it still carries an edge. "You don't get to shrug this off. You could've been shot. Killed." His fingers press harder against the matted fur, feeling the telltale stickiness beneath. Blood, not much, but enough to coil his stomach into knots. "You're hurt."

The hybrid stiffens, muscles taut beneath Hongjoong's fingers, a silent challenge. Hongjoong doesn't relent. "No," he says, voice quiet but firm. "Seonghwa. You need to tell me if you're hurt."

Seonghwa exhales sharply through his nose, whiskers twitching in irritation, but shifts just enough to expose his flank, a patch of fur singed black near the skin, the acrid scent of burnt hair lingering faintly beneath the snow and pine.

Hongjoong's fingers hover over the wound, careful not to press too hard. The bullet had grazed him, missing flesh by millimeters. The blood is barely there. His throat tightens.

"You could've died." The words come out clipped, hollow.

Seonghwa exhales sharply, tail curling tight against his side. His ears remain pinned flat against his skull, pupils still blown wide with residual adrenaline. Hongjoong's hands tremble as they skim over the burn, too close, too fucking close to vital arteries. Seonghwa flinches when fingers brush the tender skin.

"It's okay," Hongjoong murmurs, softer now, though his hand shakes. "Just, let me see."

The rangers step closer, careful not to crowd them. "He need a vet?" the Head asks, keeping his voice low, hands loose at his sides.

Hongjoong shakes his head before the words fully register. "No. He, " His fingers press lightly against the singed fur again. Seonghwa's ear flicks backward at the touch, but he doesn't pull away. "It's a graze. Just brushed the fur."

He nods, stepping back to give them space. The rookie ranger lingers, eyes darting between Seonghwa's flattened ears and the bloodied snow where the poachers had scrambled. "Shouldn't we," he starts, but his senior, the lady cuts him off with a sharp jerk of her chin toward the subdued poachers. "Your job's over there, Bradford."

Seonghwa exhales through his nose, hot breath fogging in the cold air as he leans more heavily against Hongjoong, pressing his damp muzzle against Hongjoong's throat, merging their scents. The adrenaline is fading, leaving his muscles loose and trembling.

Hongjoong's hands settle against his ribs, steadying him, fingers splayed wide over thick fur still prickling with residual tension.

Seonghwa feels Hongjoong's fingers, numb and stiff against his fur, chilled from the cold while he talks. His mate is freezing. His tail lashes at once, agitated.

He shifts his weight, pressing insistently against Hongjoong's side. His muzzle nudges Hongjoong's frozen fingers, the rough pad of his tongue scraping warmth into Hongjoong's knuckles for half a second before Hongjoong yanks his hand back with a hiss. "God, your tongue feels like sandpaper when you do that," he mutters, but there's no real bite to it. Seonghwa grumbles, unrepentant, and shoves his head beneath Hongjoong's arm, forcing him to stagger up.

Hongjoong exhales shakily, fingers curling into Seonghwa's ruff for balance as his numb toes protest in his unlaced boots.

"Okay, okay," he murmurs, letting Seonghwa herd him upright. The hybrid presses close, his broad flank radiating heat against Hongjoong's side, nearly knocking him over again in his urgency.

Seonghwa doesn't wait for Hongjoong's reply. His shoulder bumps insistently against Hongjoong's thigh, steering him downhill toward the road where the their vehicles wait. Snow dusts his fur, but it bothers Seonghwa much less than it weighs Hongjoong down. He moves with single-minded determination, tail flicking sharply whenever Hongjoong slows to chat with the rangers walking along.

"Seonghwa, slow down," Hongjoong mutters, stumbling over an obscured root. His boots slip on ice, and Seonghwa reacts instantly, twisting to block his fall with his own body.

Hongjoong catches himself against the hybrid's flank, fingers sinking into damp fur. "Christ. You're worse than Wooyoung when he's hyper."

Seonghwa huffs, nudging Hongjoong's hip with his muzzle, urging him forward again. He is not hyper, Hongjoong is just human. Weak to cold. The blue car is visible now, slightly up ahead the road than the jeep, its top blurred white.

His tail lashes impatiently when Hongjoong hesitates to glance back at the rangers loading the poachers into their jeep.

The rangers give him a curt nod. "We'll handle the paperwork. Get home, it getting dark. Just radio us if he tells you any details of what happened."

Seonghwa's ears twitch at the distant rumble of the rangers' jeep fading downhill, but his focus remains fixed on Hongjoong's shivering frame as he puts the keys in, warming up the engine. He impatiently leaps onto Hongjoong's lap in the driver seat as soon as Hongjoong is inside and seated to cross over to the passenger side instead of climbing in from the other door.

Hongjoong exhales sharply, finally letting himself slump back against the seat, the adrenaline draining from his limbs like water through a sieve. The heat blasting from the vents is too much against his chilled skin, yet his fingers still tremble where they grip the wheel.

Seonghwa's weight presses warm and heavy across his thighs, trying to share body warmth, twisting awkwardly in the cramped space to nose at Hongjoong's jaw, his breath hot and damp against Hongjoong's throat. "Move over, you menace," Hongjoong mutters, voice rough, but his hands are gentle as they push at Seonghwa's shoulders, guiding him back onto the passenger seat.

Seonghwa goes, reluctantly, his claws clicking against the plastic gear box as he rearranges himself, tail curling around his paws.

The engine thrums beneath them as Hongjoong shifts into gear, tires crunching over packed snow. Seonghwa's ears twitch at the sound. He doesn't like the sensation of being in the car, it feels wrong to be moving without any movement. But Hongjoong is warm here, so he can stay in here for now.

By the time they reach the cabin, the sky has darkened to violet, the first stars pricking through the trees. Seonghwa leaps out before the car fully stops, landing lightly in the snow despite his bulk. He shakes himself vigorously, sending melted snow spraying in all directions, then pads to the porch, waiting impatiently as Hongjoong fumbles with the keys.

The moment the door clicks open, Seonghwa shoulders past him, nearly knocking Hongjoong into the wall in his haste to get inside. He shakes himself again right in the entryway, droplets flying onto the hardwood before Hongjoong can grab a towel.

"Seonghwa!" Hongjoong exclaims, exasperated, but his tone isn't angry, or even annoyed.

Seonghwa ignores him, twisting his head to sink his teeth into the cuff of Hongjoong's jacket sleeve, tugging insistently. Hongjoong barely has time to brace himself before the hybrid pulls back sharply, yanking the jacket half-off his shoulders in one rough motion. Seonghwa growls low in his throat when Hongjoong tries to shrug the other sleeve off himself, nudging Hongjoong's hands aside with his muzzle to finish the job himself. The jacket hits the floor with a wet slap, soaked through from the snow.

Hongjoong huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, I get it." His fingers fumble with numb clumsiness to loosen the bootlaces.

This is why human fingers are stupid. No fur, no claws.

Seonghwa watches for half a second before huffing again, this time in clear impatience, and crouches to sink his teeth into the heel of Hongjoong's boot, tugging it off with a sharp jerk that nearly sends Hongjoong toppling backward. The second boot follows just as unceremoniously, landing somewhere near the discarded jacket.

Seonghwa presses close, his damp fur brushing against Hongjoong's arms as he herds him toward the fireplace.

The heat from the crackling flames hits Hongjoong's skin like a physical blow, the sudden warmth making him shudder violently.

Seonghwa chuffs, nudging Hongjoong's shoulder until he sinks onto the rug before the hearth, legs folding bonelessly beneath him.

The blanket is thick wool, and it mostly stays in their bedroom. It smells like both of them from the days Seonghwa sleeps with Hongjoong in the bed. He likes the way it smells everytime they mate, sex as Hongjoong and other stupid humans call it, but Hongjoong insists on washing everything, making it all smell like that liquid that Hongjoong puts in the machine that washes clothes. Human clothes are so cumbersome, he thinks once again. You have to wear them, and clean them, and they get dirty and wet. They're useless, unlike Seonghwa's fur which stays dry and on his skin, and he can clean it himself.

Still, Seonghwa can smell himself, both his human smell and snow-leopard form mixed in with Hongjoong's distinct scent on the blanket and it satisfies something in him for it to be enough. He drags it down now with his teeth, shaking it out once before dragging it to the firplace and draping it heavily over Hongjoong's shoulders. Hongjoong barely has time to grab the edges before Seonghwa is pressing close again, his weight warm and solid against Hongjoong's side as he lies down above the blanket, his tail curling possessively around Hongjoong's waist over the blanket.

Hongjoong exhales shakily, his fingers finally beginning to thaw as they sink into Seonghwa's fur. "I'm fine baby" he murmurs, but there's no real complaint in his voice.

Seonghwa rumbles low in his chest, the sound vibrating through Hongjoong's ribs, and presses closer still, his muzzle resting heavily against Hongjoong's collarbone. His breath is warm against Hongjoong's throat, steady and familiar.

Hongjoong's fingers tremble as they card through damp fur, tracing the line of Seonghwa's spine. The adrenaline hasn't quite faded, leaving his pulse fluttering like a trapped bird beneath his ribs.

"You scared me," he whispers.

Seonghwa huffs, nudging Hongjoong's chin with his nose. The blanket slips from Hongjoong's shoulders as Seonghwa shifts his weight, pressing Hongjoong backward until they're sprawled together on the rug, Hongjoong half-pinned beneath him. Seonghwa's tongue rasps roughly over Hongjoong's cheekbone, once, twice, before he butts his forehead against Hongjoong's sternum, chuffing.

Hongjoong laughs wetly, his arms tightening around Seonghwa's neck. "Yeah, yeah, I know you're strong, my big, scary baby, hmm?"

Seonghwa rumbles smugly, tail flicking against Hongjoong's hip. The movement dislodges the blanket further, letting cold air seep between them. Hongjoong shivers, pressing closer instinctively. Seonghwa rumbles louder, adjusting his weight to shield Hongjoong more completely from the chill.

His thumb brushes the singed patch near Seonghwa's belly, making the hybrid twitch. "You should've run. I've told you that you don't need to interact with strangers. Why didn't you?" His voice cracks on the last word.

Seonghwa exhales sharply, his tail lashing once before curling tighter around Hongjoong's waist. He noses insistently at Hongjoong's jaw, but Hongjoong grabs his muzzle, forcing eye contact. "No. Answer me properly".

Seonghwa huffs, and tries to nuzzle Hongjoong again. "Don't distract me," Hongjoong mutters, though his fingers continue combing through thick fur.

Hongjoong sighs when Seonghwa refuses to respond. "Just don't do that again, please. What if they managed to shoot you?"

Seonghwa exhales sharply through his nose, ears flicking back in irritation. His claws flex against the blanket beneath them, pricking tiny holes in the wool. He wants to argue and insist that he could've taken three humans despite them having a net and a gun, but he knows how dangerous guns are. And Hongjoong doesn't even know about the drugged meat yet. He doesn't know how to explain that they'd mentioned Hongjoong, laying traps near their cabin. Hongjoong doesn't understand how instincts can rage against human logic.

Instead, he presses his head harder against Hongjoong's hand, urging the hand to move over his head instead. His tail thumps once against the rug, stubborn, not sorry.

Hongjoong's fingers tighten in his fur. "Seonghwa," he says.

Seonghwa flicks an ear dismissively and turns his head away, staring pointedly at the fire. The flames reflect in his pupils, casting gold across white fur. He could shift now, speak properly, argue properly, but that would mean admitting being scared of guns, which he is not. So he stays stubbornly feline.

Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose. His fingers trail down to the end of his tail, pressing just enough to make Seonghwa twitch. "Shift," he murmurs, softer now. "Please. Let me check properly?"

Seonghwa's tail lashes once in refusal, but his ears flick backward, half-listening.

Hongjoong leans forward, pressing his forehead against the hybrid's shoulder in mimicry of Seonghwa's nuzzles. He inhales deeply, letting his breath warm the fur beneath his lips before exhaling slowly, the way Seonghwa always does when scenting him. Seonghwa stiffens, pupils dilating at the unexpected reciprocity. Hongjoong doesn't stop, rubbing his cheek against Seonghwa's flank in deliberate imitation, his stubble catching on damp fur. He purrs softly, the sound awkward in human throat but clearly recognisable, Seonghwa's own vocalisations thrown back at him.

Seonghwa's ears swivel fully backward, confusion rippling through his muscles. Humans don't do this. His mate has never done this before.

Hongjoong's fingers trace the base of his tail with feather-light precision, right where fur meets skin, and Seonghwa's entire body stiffens. A startled chirp escapes him, undignified, embarrassing, before he can clamp his jaws shut. His claws dig into the blanket as Hongjoong repeats the motion, deliberately slow, fingers curling just enough to tease the sensitive nerves beneath dense fur. "Sensitive, hmm?" Hongjoong teases, and he sounds too smug. Seonghwa doesn't understand why. His mate is playing with his tail, of course he's sensitive and happy. If he knew it wouldn't hurt Hongjoong, he'd have already been grooming Hongjoong with his tongue by now, like he's supposed to care for his mate.

His ears flatten against his skull in protest, but his tail twitches upward into Hongjoong's palm without conscious thought. The human huffs a laugh against his shoulder, breath warm through fur.

"Shift baby," Hongjoong murmurs again, fingers dancing along the sensitive length of his tail. "Let me see that pretty face?"

Seonghwa exhales sharply through his nose, tail flicking impatiently, but the scent of Hongjoong's amusement, his fingers tracing the exact spot that makes his muscles twitch, loosens something tight in his chest. With a shuddering breath, he relents, fur rippling as bones reshape beneath skin. His muzzle retracts into delicate human features, big eyes blinking in wonder like always, while Hongjoong caresses his cheek. His fingertips twitch against the blanket, much more flexible and stubby at the same time.

Hongjoong barely has time to react before Seonghwa surges forward. His lips collide clumsily with Hongjoong's chin first, then his nose, before finally finding his mouth, too eager, too rough, like he's forgotten how human mouths work. Hongjoong laughs into the kiss, hands sliding up to cup Seonghwa's jaw, guiding him slower.

"Easy," he murmurs against his lips, thumb brushing the sharp line of Seonghwa's cheekbone.

Hongjoong tilts his head, deepening the kiss gently, letting Seonghwa relearn the rhythm.

Then his tongue brushes against Seonghwa's sharp canine, reminding him of the poacher's and he stiffens. He pulls back abruptly, eyes flicking to Seonghwa's mouth. "Can you...?" His fingers hover near Seonghwa's lips, hesitating. The question lodges in his throat, wondering whether to bring attention to the fact or not.

Seonghwa blinks, confused by the sudden distance. His tongue darts out instinctively to wet his lips, pink, clean, no trace of blood visible, but Hongjoong's gaze still lingers.

Seonghwa frowns, tilting his head.

"You bit them," Hongjoong says quietly. It isn't an accusation, just fact. His fingers twitch against Seonghwa's jaw, resisting the urge to wipe his own mouth.

Seonghwa's brows furrow. He flicks his tongue over his teeth again. He doesn't understand what Hongjoong is trying to say, it has something to do with his teeth, or his mouth. He bit the tresspassers, Hongjoong saw them bleeding, so what?

Hongjoong wrinkles his nose, shifting uncomfortably. "Your teeth," he clarifies, gesturing vaguely at Seonghwa's mouth. "You... bit them. Probably tasted blood."

Seonghwa stares blankly, then licks his own canine experimentally. His tongue rasps over the sharp point, but there's no lingering metallic tang, just the faint salt of Hongjoong's skin from their kiss. He opens his mouth, letting Hongjoong see inside like he does when he examines Seonghwa's teeth. "No blood," he says slowly, as if explaining to a particularly dense cub.

Hongjoong grimaces. "Yeah but, you had their blood in your mouth earlier." He gestures vaguely outside, it's not the correct direction, but Seonghwa knows humans have have a poor sense of direction, even Hongjoong. "I just... want you to brush your teeth first."

Seonghwa's frown deepens. He knows brushing teeth, it's the thing Hongjoong insists he does every night, rubbing his teeth with that little plastic thing, Seonghwa has learnt to hold it, but he still doesn't understand why humans need to clean their teeth with something different.

Human bodies are so inefficient at maintenance without external things.

Hongjoong sees his confusion and sighs, rubbing his own mouth with the back of his hand. "It's, it's not about hygiene. Well, it is but", he stops, frustrated.

Seonghwa watches him, head tilted like a cat watching a particularly erratic moth. His human brows furrow when Hongjoong makes vague gestures near his own mouth, trying and failing to articulate the visceral discomfort of kissing someone who has recently torn into human flesh.

"It's not, look," Hongjoong huffs, rubbing his jaw. "Humans don't...we don't like the idea of tasting blood of other humans." He grimaces, the words sounding ridiculous as he explains them. He doesn't mind Seonghwa attacking other humans if they have guns and want to kill him, Seonghwa was justified.

But it's still weird, his brain whispers. Hongjoong can't see he disagrees.

Seonghwa blinks slowly. His nose scrunches. Hongjoong's discomfort makes no sense. Blood is blood. He licks his own wounds. He's seen Hongjoong lick paper cuts. Why is this different? If he fought other snow leopards he'd get their blood in his mouth too. "You're stupid" he declares, because Hongjoong is being stupid, making faces over nothing. His tail twitches where it's still half-curled around Hongjoong's thigh, the tip flicking impatiently. He leans forward to nose at Hongjoong's cheek, unbothered, but Hongjoong catches his shoulders, holding him at arm's length.

Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose. "We don't fight with our teeth, so we're not familiar with getting human blood in our mouth baby" he tries to explain. "Just brush your teeth. Please?"

Seonghwa huffs, of course they don't fight with their teeth, because their teeth are not sharp, and don't have claws either. They need things like knife, or a needle, or a gun to fight. But Seonghwa knows that humans are squeamish about unusual things, they can be jailed for killing one specific protected animal, but they don't mind destroying forests which kills so many animals. They can eat meat, and they'll lick tiny cuts of their own, but not blood of other humans. Humans have such strange rules. Blood is blood.

But he wants to kiss Hongjoong, so he agrees, standing up to go rub his teeth with the brush.

Hongjoong watches him leave, then leans back on the rug, letting the fire's warmth seep into his bones. His fingers absently trace the blanket's frayed edge where Seonghwa's claws had snagged it earlier. The adrenaline has faded, leaving exhaustion in its wake, but his mind still races. Three poachers. Too close. He rubs his temples, already dreading the paperwork and calls to authorities tomorrow. But at least he knows there is no need for a health assessment because his baby somehow came out scathless.

The thought dissolves when Seonghwa returns, padding back into the room in a pair of shorts. He still dislikes clothing, but he tries to wear some, for Hongjoong's sake.

Hongjoong smiles faintly, reaching a hand out of the blanket to tug him down beside him and then freezes. The firelight catches on Seonghwa's bare shoulder, illuminating a darkening bruise just above his collarbone.

"You're hurt," he says, fingers hovering over the discolored skin. His voice cracks with the realization. Seonghwa shifts slightly, instinctively inching away from fingers skimming the bruise.

He shrugs, the movement fluid and unconcerned. "Not hurt," he says, licking a stripe up the column of Hongjoong's neck to distract him. It's not as satisfying with a human tongue, but he still does it, just because he can, because Hongjoong is too worried about him to be grossed out like usual. "Just color" he tries to assure, hoping Hongjoong accepts his words. He doesn't understand why this matters, there's no blood to attract starving carnivores, the weird colour always fades by morning, an injury like this usually wouldn't even be visible under the fur.

This is why he dislikes the human form. It's too exposed and visible.

Seonghwa exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated by the way Hongjoong fusses over things that don't matter. He nuzzles Hongjoong's neck again, hoping his hand will return to his head for scritches.

Hongjoong doesn't budge. His fingers hover near the bruise, jaw tightening. "You said you weren't hurt when I asked you."

Seonghwa's ears twitch backward at the tone.

Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose. His fingers ghost over the bruise, feather-light, but Seonghwa's breath still hitches, just a fraction, before he catches himself.

He presses his fingers gently against the bruise, and Seonghwa barely suppresses a flinch. The pain is dull, distant, nothing compared to the sharp sting of claws or teeth, but Hongjoong's sharp inhale tells him he's been caught. Seonghwa ducks his head, rubbing his cheek against Hongjoong's shoulder in what he hopes is a convincing display of nonchalance. His ears twitch when Hongjoong doesn't immediately reciprocate the affection.

"You liar," Hongjoong murmurs, but there's no real heat in it. His thumb brushes the edge of the bruise again, feather-light, and Seonghwa's breath hitches despite himself. Hongjoong's expression tightens. "Stay here."

Seonghwa's tail lashes once in protest as Hongjoong disentangles himself and stands. He watches, sulking, as Hongjoong rummages through the kitchen cabinets, returning with a cloth-wrapped ice pack and a small tube of ointment. The scent of mint and capsaicin makes Seonghwa's nose wrinkle. He knows what's coming.

"Lie down," Hongjoong orders, nudging Seonghwa's shoulder until he reluctantly stretches out on the rug. The ice pack presses against his collarbone, and Seonghwa hisses, claws flexing into the fabric beneath him. He loves snow, unlike the artificial heat that humans have in their homes. But he has also since learned that human skin is too weak and sensitive to cold.

Hongjoong doesn't relent, holding it firmly in place. "You're such a baby," he mutters, making Seonghwa snap playfully at his fingers with his human mouth. He is not a cub.

Seonghwa grumbles, tail thumping against the floor, but he doesn't pull away. The cold numbs the ache, and Hongjoong's fingers in his hair are too good to resist. He closes his eyes, purring quietly when Hongjoong switches to the ointment, his touch careful as he spreads it over the bruise. The sting fades quickly, replaced by warmth as Hongjoong's palm rests over the spot, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles.

He cracks one eye open, when Hongjoong starts muttering again. "Now stay still and let it work."

He huffs, but his tail curls around Hongjoong's ankle in silent agreement., obediently settling deeper into the rug. Hongjoong's fingers return to his hair, combing through the strands, and Seonghwa's purrs rumble louder.

"What did they hit you with?" he asks quietly after a while. His thumb brushes the edge of the bruise again, feather-light, but Seonghwa doesn't flinch this time.

Seonghwa blinks lazily up at him, his pupils dilated in the firelight. "Tube," he mumbles, flexing his fingers against the rug. "Like water tube in kitchen."

Hongjoong frowns, piecing together the vague description. "A pipe? Metal pipe?"

Seonghwa nods against his thigh, pressing closer when Hongjoong's fingers resume their ministrations along his scalp. The warmth of the fire licks at their legs, contrasting the lingering chill from the ice pack.

Hongjoong exhales through his nose, his thumb traces the outline of the bruise again, imagining the force it took to leave such a mark through thick fur and muscle. He imagines the pipe hitting a less muscular area, like the head, and shudders.

He wants to tell Seonghwa to not go on his patrols anymore, to not be out alone where anyone could hurt him. But he he knows it is not fair. Seonghwa is as snow leopard as he is human, if not more. It's instinct, it's routine, to patrol and mark his territory, his home. It's nature, as much as it scares Hongjoong that one day he might be too late, or that a poacher might be more skilled with the gun.

But Seonghwa has much right to live freely as any human, without the fear of being shot or captured by someone whose greed exceeds their moral sight.

Seonghwa watches him through half-lidded eyes, tail flicking lazily against Hongjoong's leg. He doesn't understand the fuss. Bruises fade. But he can see thoughts overwhelming Hongjoong. Humans think too much, Seonghwa thinks. He nudges Hongjoong's hand with his nose.

Hongjoong exhales shakily, fingers returning to card through Seonghwa's hair. The fire pops beside them, casting shadows that dance across Seonghwa's relaxed features. He shouldn't be this calm after nearly being shot. But then, Seonghwa has faced things none of them have, that he shouldn't have either. His thumb traces the shell of Seonghwa's ear, lingering on the delicate edge where fur meets hair. Seonghwa leans into the touch, a quiet chirp escaping him, reserved only for Hongjoong or occasionally the cubs, they'll probably get all frantic when they hear of this, Hongjoong thinks. Seonghwa chirps again, and sound lodges in Hongjoong's chest, sharp as the ache behind his ribs.

He could've lost this to men who saw Seonghwa as nothing more than pelt and profit.

His fingers tighten unconsciously in Seonghwa’s hair, earning a soft grumble. The firelight catches on the ointment-slick bruise, purpling like wine beneath his fingertips. Seonghwa stretches, unconcerned, tail curling around Hongjoong’s wrist, a living tether, warm and insistent.

"You’re staying home tomorrow," Hongjoong says. Seonghwa’s ears twitch upright, pupils narrowing to slits.

Hongjoong shakes his head before the protest forms. "Not forever. Just until the rangers sweep the perimeter."

Seonghwa’s tail thumps once, displeased. He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Hongjoong presses a fingertip to his lips making Seonghwa go cross-eyed trying to follow the fingertip. "Let me worry properly for one day."

Seonghwa exhales sharply through his nose, whiskers twitching, but he doesn’t move Hongjoong’s finger. His tail flicks twice, reluctant agreement, before curling loosely around Hongjoong’s ankle again.

Hongjoong’s shoulders slump, tension bleeding out. His fingers resume their path through Seonghwa’s hair, scratching lightly behind one ear. Seonghwa leans into the touch, his purr rumbling through the quiet cabin like distant thunder. Outside, the wind howls against the windows, but inside, the firelight paints them both gold.

He leans down, kissing Seonghwa, who is now already half asleep but still tries to kiss back, albeit with less enthusiasm than usual.

He let him rest, pressing a kiss to his forehead before snuggling into Seonghwa's neck, nuzzling him like Seonghwa does. It's clumsy, but Seonghwa purrs louder, soothing Hongjoong's still racing heart as he tries to rest until dinner too. Until Wooyoung and others call like usual and get regaled with whatever happened today. They'll probably end up here in a few days, Mingi'll probably refuse to settle until he sees and feels Seonghwa's safe and alive. Hongjoong can relate.

But for now, Seonghwa is safe, and he will remain so, as long as Hongjoong breathes.