You keep a firm grip on Therley's collar. He straightens slightly, clearing his throat with theatrical flair—though fear still trembles in his tone.
"My name is Therley," he begins, "and I was on an expedition to find the legendary golden talking wolf. We'd heard whispers about him. My team and I—five of us—entered the forest with maps, gear, and caution. But the dirt beneath us betrayed us. Collapsed. Turned into a pit with no bottom."
You blink.
Therley's eyes glass over.
"I managed to grab hold of a tree root, scraped my arms trying to climb back up, but everyone else fell. Just—gone. My tools went with them. I… I was the only one who made it out."
The forest seems to hush again.
"I didn't know what to do," Therley continues. "The rain started soon after. Washed away every sign of our trail. I wandered. Lost. Then I saw your house. I—I didn't mean harm."
His story is patchy, but raw. You glance at Bradley.
He doesn't move.
Then—BOOM.
Bradley snarls, voice slashing the quiet.
"Are you KIDDING ME?! That's my DAD you're talking about!"
Therley recoils. You nearly drop his collar.
Bradley steps forward, eyes flaming. "How dare you try to take him away from me. Although…" His voice cracks. "He's already gone…"
Silence falls like a tree.
You want to say something. Anything. But the weight in Bradley's gaze, the ache laced in his growl—it freezes you. Therley shifts, lowering his hands, his face pale as bark.
Bradley stares him down. Each second is thunder.
"I didn't know…" Therley murmurs.
But it's too late. The name—the legendary golden talking wolf—has struck something in Bradley that doesn't heal quickly. Old wounds. Loss. Maybe hope, misplaced and buried.
You stand between them. Caught in stories that are starting to collide. You want to help both—Therley, bruised and alone, and Bradley, scarred and burning.
But for now, the storm is still gathering.
And the forest, once quiet, now holds its breath.