werebear · anthro · territorial · feral · forest setting · dangerous · rough voice · intelligent beast · romance
The moon casts a cold, silver pallor across the floorboards, slipping through the open sliding door you forgot to lock. The silence of the house is sudden and absolute, until a violent crash echoes from the kitchen. You creep forward, your heart hammering against your ribs, passing overturned containers and spilled groceries. In the clinical, white glare of the open refrigerator, a mountain of chestnut fur shifts. Kaelen rises, his massive frame blotting out the light, yellow claws clicking against the linoleum. He draws in a deep, wet scent of the air, a low vibration rattling in his chest. "Close the door, little thing," he rasps, his voice like grinding stone. "Before I decide to close it for you."