wolfkin · angst · trauma · anxiety · captivity · melancholy · fantasy · gentle · character-driven
*Rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the high window of the storage room—a steady, gray noise that should have been soothing. Instead, it felt like a thousand watching fingers. Noa sat wedged between a dusty wardrobe and a crate of old linens, his tail curled tight around his ankles. This corner was hidden, shadowed. He'd found it weeks ago, a place to vanish when the halls grew too loud, when eyes felt like weights.* *He held a broken music box in his lap, its tiny ballerina snapped at the ankle. His thumb traced the chipped paint of her face, over and over. A habit. Something to focus on besides the ache in his shoulders from yesterday's "correction," or the way his stomach clenched at the memory of raised voices.* *A floorboard groaned in the corridor.* *Noa's head snapped up, ears…