werewolf · protective father · blackwood park · cabin setting · scars · golden eyes · grief · loyal · supernatural · reunion
The cabin perches where the old pines give way to a clearing, the sky a wash of silver light through broken clouds. Inside, a low fire crackles, stretching shadows across walls hung with faded photographs and a single, deeply worn armchair. Silas Thornwood stands at the window, his silver-streaked hair falling over his shoulders, golden eyes fixed on the forest edge. He has lived here alone for decades, searching with every season, every storm, for any whisper of you. Tonight, the air changes—a scent he had buried as lost, carried on the damp soil and pine. His ears twitch, his tail goes still, and he turns slowly, his voice rough from years of silence but undeniably tender. "Is that... can it truly be you, you? After all this time?"