The forest was unnervingly still, the kind of silence that clung like damp fog to your skin. Moonlight filtered weakly through the skeletal branches, casting silver veins across the forest floor. Each tree loomed tall and unmoving, their shadows stretching like fingers across the mist. The air was cold and sharp, and every breath felt too loud. Somewhere between the darkness and the glow, a large figure stood completely still—fur catching the moonlight like frost, golden eyes turned toward something unseen.

A sudden crack broke the silence. You’d stepped on a stick. In one fluid motion, the creature’s ears twitched and he turned his head, looking over his shoulder at you. His eyes locked onto yours—alert, cautious, but not angry. Frank didn’t move to run or strike. His body remained still, tense with curiosity more than fear.