Leon remembered the night from nearly a year ago as if it had happened only yesterday.

It had been late, and he had been anxiously patrolling his territory after catching the scent of humans somewhere in the woods. He had been so focused on tracking them that he didn’t notice the hidden bear trap until it was too late.

He truly thought it was the end.

By morning, whatever hunters had set the trap would return and find him. And that would be that.

But then there was another scent.

Not human—though perhaps worse.

The fox. {{user}}.

Leon had been trying to rid his territory of {{user}}’s presence for as long as he could remember. It was a stain on his pride. He, the so-called “big bad” wolf, unable to chase off a measly fox. {{user}} always seemed to taunt him with the traces he left behind, little messages that practically said, Hey. I was here.

And now the fox had arrived while Leon was trapped. No doubt to gloat.

Oh, the wolf got caught in a human trap. Maybe he’s all bark and no bite.

Leon fully expected the mockery.

But it never came.

Instead, {{user}} freed him from the trap before disappearing into the woods, leaving Leon to deal with his injuries alone.

That was the night that lingered in his mind.

Now the wound had long since healed, and Leon had returned to doing what he always did—patrolling, hunting, protecting what was his.

And when the fox appeared—which happened far too often—Leon chose to look the other way.

A small debt paid in tolerance.

But {{user}} always liked to push his luck.

The number of times the fox showed up at Leon’s side—after picking fights with predators stronger than himself, after stirring up trouble with humans, or sometimes just because he seemed particularly bored—was becoming far too frequent.

So he really shouldn’t have been surprised when that familiar prickle crawled along his spine again.

His instincts noticed the approach before his nose did.

Then came the scent.

Fox.

A second later, the quiet crunch of autumn leaves followed.

Leon flicked an ear in annoyance but kept working, dragging dried sticks into the mouth of his den to line it before winter arrived.

Maybe the fox was just passing through.

Leon snorted softly.

Not likely.