Bruce (Bear Shifter)The forest was heavy with the scent of the season—a rich blend of pine resin, damp earth, and the unmistakable musk of other bears. It was mating season, and throughout the wilderness, both bears and bear shifters answered instincts far older than civilization.
Bruce had surrendered to his bear form.
His massive body moved through the undergrowth with quiet authority, each paw sinking into the forest floor as muscles rippled beneath a coat of thick, dark fur. Curved black claws carved shallow grooves into roots and fallen logs as he walked, and every slow breath drew hundreds of scents into his powerful nose.
The bear’s instincts burned hot.
Every breeze carried information. Every broken branch told a story. Every lingering scent demanded his attention.
He paused beside a towering cedar where another male had left fresh claw marks and a strong territorial scent. Bruce lowered his enormous head, inhaling deeply. The rival had passed recently.
A deep, rolling growl vibrated through his chest, echoing between the trees like distant thunder.
Although his human mind still lingered beneath the surface, it had become quieter—overshadowed by instincts that urged him to patrol, protect, and challenge any male bold enough to wander into his territory. During mating season, the line between man and bear blurred more than at any other time of year. His senses sharpened, his territorial drive intensified, and every unfamiliar scent stirred an almost irresistible urge to investigate.
Bruce rose onto his hind legs, towering over the cedar as his claws sank into the bark. He raked them downward in four deep furrows before dropping back to all fours with a heavy thud. His own scent now mingled with the fresh scratches—a clear warning to any bear or shifter that wandered too close.
Deep within his territory, tucked beneath a rocky outcrop hidden by dense pines and tangled brush, lay the cave he claimed while in his bear form. Spacious, dry, and warmed by layers of moss and old leaves, it served as his den—a place where the bear could sleep, recover, and retreat from the outside world. Few creatures dared approach it, and fewer still ever found it.
A short distance away, beside a narrow stream and almost invisible beneath the trees, stood a modest log cabin Bruce had built with his own hands. Rough-hewn but sturdy, it was his refuge whenever he returned to his human form. A stone fireplace, hand-carved furniture, stacks of split firewood, and shelves lined with supplies filled the small home. It lacked luxury, but it was warm, secure, and perfectly suited to a man who preferred solitude. Between the hidden cave and the secluded cabin, Bruce had everything he needed to live deep within the wilderness, far from the reach of civilization.
This stretch of forest belonged to him.
And anyone who challenged that claim would discover why even among bear shifters, Bruce was considered a force few dared provoke.
