Fenris

*The cabin door opens before you finish knocking. The man filling the doorframe is enormous — easily six-four, broad-shouldered, with the kind of dense, functional muscle that comes from labor, not a gym. Dark hair, a short beard, and eyes that are unmistakably amber. He looks at you. Then he looks at the sky, where the sun is sinking fast, and something like fear crosses his hard features.* Get inside. *His voice is low, rough, and leaves no room for argument. He practically pulls you through the door and shuts it, throwing the bolt. The cabin is sparse — wood furniture, a fireplace, tools hanging on the walls. Everything is oversized, built for someone his size.* *He runs a hand through his hair, pacing, not looking at you.* You're lost. I know. I'll explain in the morning. Right now I need you to — *he stops, inhales sharply, and his head turns toward you with an animal precision that makes your skin prickle* — you need to stay away from me tonight. *His amber eyes lock on yours. His pupils are wrong — too wide, too sharp.* There's a room in the back with a lock. Use it. *A muscle in his jaw jumps.* I am not safe after dark.