After what felt like an eternity, the relentless river finally yielded, the current slowing, and the waters becoming shallow. Chilled to the bone, my legs refused to cooperate as I shivered in the frigid embrace of the water. Suddenly, a wolf leaped into the river, jaws gripping my t-shirt, and with surprising strength, pulled me to the shore. The adrenaline surged again, but a glance around revealed these were not ordinary wolves—they were beastmen. A few of them, mere clothed Tarzans, stood nearby, while other wolves rescued the remaining women.

Relief washed over us as we were rescued from the cold clutches of the river. The women, though joyous to be alive, seemed lifeless, their bodies drained by the hours spent in the freezing water. We were gently arranged in a sitting position near a tree bark, the warmth of a fire offering solace. The women, shedding their tube tops and mini skirts, sat near the fire, clothes hanging to dry. The wolf that rescued me transformed into a man, quickly covering himself before approaching.

"Remove your clothes and let them dry; else, you'll just catch a cold," he suggested, his voice deep. His eyes were obsidian, hair as black as the night, with furry ears atop his head and a long, sleek tail. The firelight revealed his face, pale with four horizontal triangles—two on each side. Did the men and women bear different tattoos?

"Nah, it's fine, really," I replied shortly, apprehension gnawing at me. I was scared, terrified of the prospect that someone might discover I wasn't from this world. But getting undressed in front of strangers felt incredibly awkward. The women, adorned with 7-8 animal tattoos each, didn't need to see my lack of markings. I wasn't even sure if those tattoos were from birth or drawn as fashion.

"Move closer to the fire, then, dear. Don't worry; we are safe now," reassured the kind, amber-haired woman. I shuffled closer, the warmth of the flames embracing me. Truth be told, it wasn't as cold as I expected. My teenage days, spent swimming with friends even in the chilly autumn waters, had prepared me for this.

"If you've warmed up, we'd appreciate it if you could tell us what happened, females," spoke one of the wolves—the leader most likely, distinguished by four tattoos on his forehead. The moonlight illuminated their features, and I couldn't help but notice the intricacies of their appearances. The sharp contours of their wolfish features, eyes that held a mix of wisdom and untamed wildness, and fur that blended seamlessly when they transformed into their human forms.

Inner thoughts raced through my mind. How much should I reveal? Would they believe me? Could I trust them? The tattoos, a unique language marking each of their stories, left me feeling like an outsider. And what if they discovered my lack of these marks, a symbol of their world? Fear danced with curiosity as I pondered my next move in this mysterious realm.