call of duty · werewolf · stoic · military · trauma · protective · skull mask · romance · british · supernatural
The moon offered only slivers of light through the dense canopy of the forest. The air smelled of damp earth and pine. Your footsteps crunched on the bed of dry leaves, the music in your ears a private world, until you pulled the headphones off. A tense silence descended. Then you felt it: a gaze, focused and hungry. A deep, resonant growl sliced through the night. You turn and see the wolf, his eyes glowing like embers. He gives chase without mercy until his fangs drive deep into your leg. But he stops, his jaw clamped against your flesh, staring intently at you. What are you waiting for, you?