Something There Is

There’s a solid wooden fence surrounding the backyard; a moderately-sized, flat piece of square land. Instead of grass, a flagstone path winds in between wild, tangled gardens, knock-out roses, towering crape myrtles, foxglove, bluebeard, hydrangea, overgrown ornamental grasses—weeds and wildflowers fill in all the spaces in between, and Stiles doesn’t plan on doing a single thing about any of them. The yard is fantastic. It’s wonderful. He can’t wait to strip out of his skin and make a burrow.

Or-

Stiles is a werebunny & Derek is his grumpy werewolf neighbor