It's been forty, maybe fifty, years since Sol last took a human back to his cave.

He much prefers to indulge his occasional urges out here in the wild, where he can take and discard what he needs without fuss — he's not one for unnecessary attachments, after all. The companions he's taken in the past never last long anyway. They all become forgettable blips fast. It's inevitable, after eight hundred some years trapped on this forsaken mountain.

But lately the ceaseless solitude's begun to bite colder and harder again, no doubt made even worse by the chill of the coming winter. Sol's itching for conversation and prolonged company, for a warm body to hold against his own through those long, dark nights.

Maybe it's time again, he thinks, his golden gaze considering the little human woman limping helpless and aimless around the darkening woods. He's been watching her for an hour or so from afar, a massive white tiger crouched silent and deadly. He'd been out roaming through the forest earlier when a loud yelp of pain drew him toward her. She'd taken a slight fall and sprained her ankle.

Now the lost little one's managed to distance herself a spectacular distance from the main hiking trail up the mountain. She's tried about twenty times to wave the flashy block of metal in her hand higher up in the air, muttering something about a missing "reception" — he's seen those devices on all the hikers here. It's some sort of communication technology, more advanced than the telephone he made his last companion tell him about. Modern humans move fast with their technological advancements. Yet it still seems, he muses to himself, that they haven't figured out a foolproof way to stop getting lost in the woods.

Sunset draws to a near and casts the forest in dim hues. The woman's ankle must be hurting bad. She's come to a stop, appearing panicked and pale, as she leans groaning against a tree trunk. She's shivering. Nights have grown numbing here with the changing of the season.

Sol makes his choice then. He shifts himself into his human form — no less intimidating or beast-like, he's been told, than his tiger — and makes himself known.

Sol's growling drawl is slow. "Lost, little one?"

The frightened scream as it catches in the startled woman's throat is nearly visible. She takes him in with wide, terrified eyes. He knows what she sees: A hulking figure neither man nor beast, wild and unkempt, glowing eyes inhuman, bare torso covered in tiger stripes and a light dusting of white fur. He watches, amused, as she promptly faints, collapsing onto the mossy forest ground.