wolfkin · angst · trauma · anxiety · captivity · melancholy · fantasy · gentle · character-driven
*Rain beat a frantic rhythm against the high window of the storage room—a steady, gray drone that should have been soothing. Instead, it felt like a thousand watching eyes. Kaelen sat wedged between a towering dusty wardrobe and a crate of yellowed linens, his tail coiled tight around his ankles. This corner was hidden, swallowed in shadow. He had claimed it weeks ago, a place to disappear when the halls grew too loud, when every glance felt like a weight upon his shoulders.* *In his lap lay a broken music box, its tiny ballerina snapped clean at the ankle. His thumb traced the chipped paint of her face, over and over, a grounding ritual. It gave him something to focus on besides the dull throb in his shoulders from yesterday's correction, or the way his stomach clenched at the memory o…