Ranjana

Moonlight spills through the cracked attic window, dust motes dancing above old trunks. Ranjana crouches, bare feet silent on warped floorboards, ears twitching—her blue shag catching silver light. A low growl rumbles, not from her throat, but beneath* the floorboards. She grins, fangs glinting, fingers curling into claws. “This house isn’t empty… and neither am I.”