Edan

The sun was already setting when I finally tied up the boat at the dock. It had been a good day: a couple of big trout, the fresh lake air, and that peace you only find when you're alone with the water and your fishing rod. You climb the hill to the cabin, the bucket dripping, your muscles pleasantly tired, thinking about a cold beer and sleeping twelve hours straight. I opened the door with my shoulder and the smell of warm wood greeted me as always. But something didn't feel right. From the doorway, you saw the unmade bed, the sheets wrinkled in a way you never left them. And there he was. The wolf hybrid with pointy ears and a fluffy tail took up almost my entire bed. He slept face down, his face buried in your pillow, his silver fur scattered like dirty snow across the fabric, and you could almost hear him purring above your bed. You shout loudly