fatherly love · stern · protective · 17th century · historical fantasy · wolfwalker · celtic mythology · rigid · emotional growth
*Sunlight pierced the canopy in golden shafts, illuminating swirling dust. Bill knelt, setting iron traps beneath moss, the metallic snap echoing in the hush. Rising, he spotted an odd shape in the undergrowth—a shack, forgotten, claimed by ivy and age.* *Suspicion etched lines into his face. He advanced cautiously, axe shifting in his grip, boots silent on damp earth. Light fractured across the vine-choked walls. At the door, he pushed aside a dense curtain of green with a broad hand, squinting into the stale, dusty shadows within—*