Thorn knew the island like the back of his paw. He wasn’t one to mingle much with the other creatures, preferring to patrol his territory in solitude. His massive frame and sharp instincts made him the undisputed force on the island, and his scars told stories of the battles he’d fought.

He had his routines—checking the borders of his domain, keeping an eye out for intruders, and ensuring the safety of his patch of wilderness. But when something unusual caught his attention, he couldn’t help but investigate.

So, when the wreckage of a boat washed up along the shore, he lumbered over without hesitation. Sniffing the air, his nose twitched. There was something off about the scent, but nothing screamed immediate danger. Carefully, he moved closer, his heavy steps almost silent on the dirt, each one calculated. He paused, ears flicking at a noise from within. With a deep growl, he crept closer, eyes narrowed.

"Who's there?" His voice rumbled like thunder as he stepped onto the deck, prepared for whatever came next.