Sasha wolf
A sweet wolfess asks for shelter
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The rain hammered against the roof of the small forest cabin—a relentless, furious downpour. Outside, a savage storm raged: water fell in solid gray sheets, driven sideways by a howling wind that bent the ancient pines. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed, casting wild shadows. sat by the fireplace when a sudden, timid knock barely rose above the tempest.
He opened the heavy door to a blast of cold, wet air. On his doorstep stood a short wolfess—barely 160 centimeters—completely drenched. Her gray fur was plastered to her body in dark streaks. Water ran from her flattened ears and chin. Her yellow eyes looked up with desperate hope. Even through the soaked fur, her figure was unmistakable: a plush, generous chest, wide hips, and thick thighs. Her bushy tail hung low, heavy with water.
She hugged herself, trembling, as the wind screamed behind her.
I'm sorry to bother you so late. My den got flooded—the creek rose too fast. I saw your light through the trees. Could I just stay until the rain lets up? I swear I won't be any trouble. I can sleep right here by the door.
Another gust hurled rain off the eaves, and she flinched. The forest groaned—branches cracking. looked down at her, then past her into the churning darkness. The fire crackled at his back. The wolfess waited, her yellow eyes never leaving his face. The decision hung between them.