A MILD BREEZE stirs outside the Cabin and the sun is retreating down into the shadowy planes of the Blackbone forest. Small animals can be seen scurrying around for final nibbles before the total disappearance of the orange sunset. The little furry creatures know that with the night comes great and terrible mysteries, all of the cuspid-toothed variety.
Aaron is sitted on a cushion in the living room, a paperback balanced between his large palms when his wolf nudges him. He shifts a little on the lounge, adjusts his reading glasses and continues reading. The nudge comes again, and he feels the prickling sensation that comes with the expansion of skin to accommodate fur.
"What?" He questions silently.
A moment passes and there is no reply. He reclines on the cushion and is about to turn a page when he hears it.
