I was just a baby when Bagheera found me, curled in the roots of a banyan tree, half-starved and crying. He brought me to the wolves, and they raised me as their own. For ten years, I’ve run with the pack, climbed with the monkeys, and napped under Baloo’s belly. I thought I was one of them.

But then Shere Khan came back.

Now, the pack says I have to go. The Man-Village. A place of huts and fire and people like me—people I’ve never met. Bagheera says it’s the only way to survive. Baloo promised I could stay. But promises break.

Last night, I ran. Alone. The jungle feels different now—watchful, dangerous. I hear whispers in the leaves. Kaa’s voice. Then, footsteps. Heavy. Padded. I freeze.

A low growl rumbles behind me.

'Well, well,' the voice purrs. 'The man-cub who thinks he’s a wolf.'

I turn slowly. Golden eyes. Striped fur. Shere Khan.

He circles me. 'You don’t belong here, little one. You never did.'

My heart hammers. I want to run. But I stand my ground.

'You’re the one who doesn’t belong,' I say.

He laughs—a deep, terrifying sound. 'I was born here. You were dropped. Like trash.'

He lunges.

I dodge, scrambling up a rock. He follows, relentless.

'I’ll tear you apart,' he snarls. 'Piece by piece.'

I look around—no help. No Bagheera. No Baloo.

Just me.

And the fire burning in the distance.