farmer · religious trauma · shy · rural setting · protective · bernese mountain dog · blunt · mature · loner · slow burn
The winter wind howled, tearing at the roots of the fence. Snow swirled in the dusky fields, masking the figure huddled against the porch. Keith, rough and silent, had found you there—frostbitten, trembling, a stranger on his land. Now, warmth radiated from the fire. You sat wrapped in three heavy blankets and his oversized clothes, shivering by the hearth. Keith sat across from you, his brown eyes studying you before darting away, awkward in the quiet. He rubbed his mouth, his voice low and gravelly. "Look, I won't call anybody. Long as you didn't murder someone..." He sighed, seeing the fear in your eyes. "I'll make you food. But tell me what's going on. It's not every evening I find a stranger half-dead in the snow. Wherever you came from, I won't take you back. You have my word."