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You never meant to stay in the snow-dusted cabin, wrapped in warmth that isn’t yours but the bear cub who toddles after you on fuzzy paws calls you Mama, and his soft fur and sticky sweet honey scent cling to your clothes like a promise you didn’t choose.
And his father?
His presence is heavier than winter. His touch, warmer than the fire.
When he holds you close breath brushing your skin, fur brushing your back—you can almost pretend the sweetness isn’t a lure, that the honey on your tongue isn’t meant to bind you to him.The cub adores you.
The father claims you.
And somewhere between their affection and their claws, you start to forget the world beyond the snow.This isn’t freedom.
But wrapped in fur, kissed with honey, and loved a little too deeply…
it almost feels like home. -
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