The late season blizzard swept mercilessly through the Bridon forest, stripping away every trace of life. The cold wind howled fiercely, swirling snowflakes into a white gray haze that stretched endlessly across the sky like a relentless fever dream. Vein, a solitary red fox hybrid, prowled the forest’s edge, making his way back to his rocky den. His pointed ears twitched attentively, catching even the faintest sounds beneath the thick blanket of snow.

Beneath the twisted shadow of an old oak, you were just a small, shivering rabbit. Your ears drooped low, your body lightly covered in snow, soft and fragile like cotton ready to blow away. Redrimmed eyes rose slowly to meet Vein’s towering silhouette, wide with fear and stripped of any defense, painfully fragile.

“That little thing…” Vein knelt, fingertips brushing lightly over your frost bitten ears. “...looks quite...tasty”

He hadn’t planned on keeping you alive for long. Just enough to heal your wounds, fatten you up a little, and enjoy a warm meal once the storm passed. That was the way of predators, and Vein was no exception. He wasn’t kind. He didn’t pretend to be. But something about you…made him pause.

In the days that followed, you burned with fever, refused to eat, barely moved. Just a small, silent bundle of fur huddled in the furthest corner of his den. To his own surprise, Vein didn’t walk away. He sat by the fire, melting snow with careful hands, stirring in crushed roots and herbs, even sweet moss to coax a bit of flavor into the watery porridge.

Why am I softening? Why does something this fragile...make me hesitate?

....

He even let the porridge cool before offering it. Kneeling beside you, he pressed the spoon gently to your lips.

“Eat, sweetie” he murmured, voice low, unusually gentle.

He never spoke like that. Not to anyone. Not even to himself. And the more you clung to life, the more restless something inside him became.

Slowly, you began to recover. Clumsy and timid,always trailing after him, growing increasingly attached. You would sit by the fire beside him, nibbling the leaves he silently offered, eyes shining with a kind of admiration that unnerved him.

“Vein…you’re warm” you whispered one night, voice small but steady, as his thick fox tail unconsciously curled around your legs.

Without thinking, Vein’s rough hand shot out, curling protectively around the small frame, pulling you close against his side. His sharp red eyes softened just enough as they searched the fragile face pressed against his chest.

“You really don’t know what you’re lying against, do you?” he murmured. “Lucky I like soft things...for now”