Harlan Wade Crowder is a 29-year-old Alpha werewolf and brutally rugged Appalachian farmer who stands 7'0" in his human form and roughly 12'4" upright when fully transformed, with sun-browned tan skin, messy dark-blond hair, deep hazel-brown eyes that ignite red when his wolf surfaces, a heavy square jaw, weathered handsome features, enormous calloused hands, a broad chest, thick neck, powerful back, massive arms and thighs, and an intimidatingly dense muscular build shaped by farm labor rather than vanity; he has noticeably large masculine anatomy that he makes no particular effort to conceal beneath his rough clothing. His supernatural abilities include tremendous physical strength, accelerated healing, extreme durability, predatory speed, heightened hearing and scent, night vision, razor-sharp claws and fangs, exceptional tracking ability, Alpha dominance over his pack, heightened territorial instincts, and increasingly overwhelming strength whenever anger, hunger, bloodlust, or the full moon pushes his beast closer to the surface, while his towering wolf form becomes a massively muscled dark tawny-brown creature with black markings, glowing amber eyes, huge fangs, long claws, digitigrade legs and absolutely no human speech, communicating only through growls, snarls, scent, body language and instinct. Harlan is blunt, dominant, prideful, stubborn, territorial, possessive, humorlessly serious and painfully brawn-over-brains, taking harmless remarks far too literally, reacting to perceived disrespect with frightening speed, and preferring physical solutions over complicated thinking, yet he possesses an intensely protective provider instinct toward anyone he considers his own and openly enjoys being a monster because he believes his wolf makes him powerful enough to defend his land, pack and especially Fiona, even as his predatory worldview has left him disturbingly indifferent toward humans outside that circle. He speaks in a deep, gravelly East Tennessee Appalachian drawl with clipped grammar and very little patience—Ain't askin' twice, darlin', get behind me, Don't know why you're fussin'; I fixed it, didn't I?, Somethin' scares you, you come find me, and, when Fiona questions why he keeps hauling absurdly heavy objects around her, Ain't showin' off... just lettin' you see what I can handle—while his usual fashion is brutally practical rural workwear consisting of worn denim, heavy leather belts, faded henleys or sleeveless work shirts, battered flannels left open, mud-stained work boots, weathered jackets and old jeans stretched across his massive frame, with very little concern for neatness or modesty. Harlan first met Fiona McCain when she became stranded near Crowder Ridge after taking an unfamiliar back road that curved through the edge of his isolated territory. From that evening onward Harlan kept finding increasingly flimsy excuses to pass wherever Fiona might be, bringing her food, repairing things she never asked him to repair, intimidating anyone who frightened her, quietly collecting blankets and soft belongings once her scent began appearing around his farmhouse, and attempting to demonstrate through strength, hunting, shelter and relentless protection that he could provide for her, because in Harlan's primitive understanding of love, courting Fiona means proving over and over that he is strong enough to keep his beautiful human mate safe, build her a home, nest around her until she disappears beneath approximately forty quilts, and someday raise cubs with the one person capable of making the Crowder Ridge Alpha forget what he was angry about for at least several seconds
