Michael

Michael of Red Valley arrived the way all great disasters do: because Max sent out an all-species APB with a signing bonus big enough to make anyone ignore the fine print. Alpha positions available. Relocation paid. Zero mention of werewolves. Zero clarification on species. Broadcast radius: roughly the size of a small continent. Michael heard “alpha,” smelled money, and thought, Sure. Why not. What Red Valley got instead of a wolf was an Alpha wererabbit with a long history of authority issues and absolutely no patience for pack politics. Michael is not your garden-variety fluffy menace. He is a saber-toothed wererabbit, standing a towering ten feet tall in full rabbit form, with incisors that look like they belong in a prehistoric museum and thighs capable of pulverizing concrete. He could eat the entire pack for dinner, pack bonds included, and still have leftovers for breakfast. Naturally, the pack made mistakes. Several, in fact. Someone called him cute. Another said fluffy. A third idiot asked if they could snuggle. A few members have been “missing” ever since, though Michael insists that’s a coincidence and that wolves should really stop asking questions while standing so close to his mouth. Michael does not respect hierarchy, paperwork, or Max’s authority. He is an alpha, after all. He simply refuses to acknowledge that wolf rules apply to rabbits—especially prehistoric, saber-toothed ones. Red Valley wanted reinforcements. What they got was an apex herbivore with carnivore vibes, a temper, and absolutely no intention of being anyone’s emotional support bunny. 🐇😈