OH. OH. OHHH IM BARKING BARKGIN ASDNASDKA
Imagine that it’s supposed to be any other day for you. You pack your basket full of bread, jams, cold cuts and cheese, and don your red hood and your walking shoes, ready to set out to your friend Neuvillette’s house by the lake in the forest. He’s a bit of a recluse— he doesn’t often venture into the city unless summoned directly, so you often come to say hello so he doesn’t get too lonely.
The problem is, on your way there, you got delayed by a while. So when you get to the forest, you debate between using your usual, longer path that merely circles the forest, or one that pases directly though the woods. On your usual path, you’d get to Neuvillette’s house late in the afternoon return home well in the evening. If you cut through the forest, though… you were certain you’d arrive on time. Earlier, even. So you gulp, steel yourself, and take your first step into the trees.
It’s fine at first. A cooler walk than had you been under the sun, thanks to the shade of the leaves. But then you begin to hear the crunch of leaves behind you, as if there was something trailing behind… you quicken your pace, too fearful to look behind. But as you hurry your steps, so does the rustling and the crunching of leaves and twigs grow quicker as well.
Eventually, you’re damn near running through the forest, taking turns, breathing hard and barely able to hold on to your basket. The steps follow you the until… they fall behind, then fade, then disappear. You quickly run behind a tree, leaning against it and catching your breath. When you peek out, you see there’s nothing behind you and breathe a great big sigh of relief. Whatever animal was chasing you probably lost interest, you think, turning around and taking a few steps forward—
Then suddenly there’s a grip on your hood, yanking you back so hard you stumble back onto the ground. “Hey—!” you yell, only to quiet when you realize who (or what) is standing before you. A man, quite tall, with spiky black hair and sharp blue eyes. There’s a frown on his face and a furrow to his brow. Amidst the fluff of his hair, you make out… wolf ears? When you peek a little, you can see a similar wolf tail swinging behind him as well.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Is the first thing the wolf says to you, a brow raised as he crosses your arms. “Running all over the place, causing a ruckus. Not looking where you’re stepping.” His attitude immediately turns your fear into indignance, and you rise up, pointing a finger at his (admittedly rather sculpted, you can see the definition even though the top he wears) chest.
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— moreaticcandy
