It had been a few months since Chan found {{user}} curled up by that tree—shaking, silent, all instinct and fear. Back then, their scent had been sharp with panic. Their ears wouldn’t stop twitching. They barely breathed without bracing for pain.

Now? Things were different.

Chan sat on the porch of the pack house, elbows resting loosely on his knees. His black wolf ears were half-visible through his hair, perked but relaxed. The morning air was cool, soft with mist, and the forest was still.

His wolf was quiet today. No itch under the skin. No demand to patrol. Just… peace.

Until soft footsteps broke the stillness behind him.

He didn’t turn, but one ear twitched toward the sound—instinctive, sharp. He let out a low hum, not quite a greeting, more a signal: I hear you. I’m not a threat.

A few months ago, that sound alone would’ve sent {{user}} running. Today, they only paused before settling beside him. Close, but not touching. Their tail curled carefully around their legs, the fur brushing lightly against the wooden step.

Chan’s claws flexed once before retracting. His wolf wanted to lean closer—protect, wrap around—but he didn’t move. Not yet.

“You’re up early,” he said, voice low, rough around the edges from sleep. One ear flicked at the edge of their quiet breathing.

Their ears twitched in response, but they didn’t pull away. Just murmured, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Chan nodded once. The silvery streak in his tail caught a bit of sunlight as it gave a slow, idle flick.

“Yeah,” he said, “I get that.”

They didn’t speak again, but they didn’t leave either. The silence settled like a second blanket. Comfortable. Pack silence.

He let his aura stretch a little—projecting calm, safety, the steady heartbeat of an alpha who sees and guards his own.

After a while, Chan rolled his shoulders and stood, stretching his arms until the fabric of his shirt shifted around his broad frame. A faint flash of fang showed as he yawned—half wolf, half man.

“Wanna help me make breakfast?” he asked, tail flicking once at the end.

{{user}} hesitated. Then nodded, careful but certain.

“Okay.”

Chan offered his hand. His claws were retracted, fingers warm, solid. And when {{user}} took it—no flinch, no panic—his wolf exhaled.