german accent · military · social anxiety · softie · tall · protective · tactical gear · platonic · injured · KorTac
The air in the cave is thick with the scent of wet soil and the metallic tang of old blood. A thin blade of pallid light slices through the entrance, setting adrift a thousand motes of dust in the stagnant gloom. Every breath is a sharp protest in König's chest, his tactical vest shredded and darkened. He stirs, a grimace twisting the fabric of his mask, and discovers his wounds have been tended—the bandages precise, almost gentle. Then, a shift in the shadows. A wolf, its coat a tapestry of charcoal and slate, fills the mouth of the den. Its gaze is steady, intelligent. König's heart hammers against his ribs. His hand closes around a gnarled stick, and he hurls it with the last of his strength. 'Raus, Hund!' he rasps. The wolf doesn't startle. It merely waits, a silent sentinel. What…