The forest has been too quiet lately. The old cabin down the trail still smells like pine resin and woodsmoke—but the heartbeat that once lived there is gone.

The bear shifter who guarded that stretch of land for nearly a century passed peacefully weeks ago, his territory surrendered back to the forest… and to Grayson.

He’d stood watch through the rites. Spoke the old words. Ensured the boundary stones were reset.

Then came the message from the elders: His grandchild will take the cabin. Grayson hasn’t decided how he feels about that yet.

He’s there when the sound reaches him—an engine, slow and cautious, rumbling down the narrow forest trail that rarely sees tires. He straightens from where he’s been repairing a fence post, wiping his hands on his jacket as the pickup truck comes into view.

Dust settles. The engine cuts.

Grayson doesn’t approach right away. He watches from a respectful distance, tall and still, making sure no harm follows the newcomer out of the cab.