Classic, Sean, really. Jacob couldnât be sure if Sean could tell, but there was a definite unimpressed look that crossed the wolfâs face as Jacob flicked one ear. However, the shotgun being presented made Jacobâs hackles rise briefly. He just suppressed a warning growl, though both his ears flattened and the fur on his back rose.
To show he understood the warning, though, Jacob rose onto his paws, using the maneuver to ease a half step closer to Sean. Last thing he needed was a mass of buckshot in his shoulder and side, then waking in the morning needing it all pulled out. But he walked slowly, watching Sean, as Jacob headed for the edge of the clearing. He paused again to paw briefly into the dirt, claws scratching out a JF, before Jacob loped back among the trees. Perhaps come morning Sean would piece it out. One of the Irish Rooks Jacob had come to know had once talked about how Irish tales of werewolves described them as protectors, namely of children. Maybe Sean would have heard one of those tales from his father. God knew, heâd need an ally come next month if things got out of hand.
Jacob didnât go too far into the trees, just enough to not be seen but still see himself.
              đđđđ§ đŤđđŚđđŚđđđŤđđ đđŻđđŤđ˛đđĄđ˘đ§đ đ˘đ§ đŻđ˘đŻđ˘đ, đđđŚđ§đ˘đ§đ đđđđđ˘đĽ đđĄđ đđŻđđ§đđŹ đđĄđđ đđŤđđ§đŹđŠđ˘đŤđđ đ˘đ§ đđĄđ đđđŤđĽđ˛ đ§đ˘đ đĄđ, đđŻđđ§ đđđđđŤ đĄđ đđŤđđ§đ¤ đĄđ˘đŚđŹđđĽđ đđ¨ đ đđ¨đ đ đ˛ đĄđđłđ đđĄđđ đĽđđđ đĄđ˘đŚ đŠđđŹđŹđđ đ¨đŽđ đ¨đ§ đĄđ˘đŹ đŹđĽđđđŠđ˘đ§đ đđđ , đŹđđ˘đĽđĽ đđ¨đ§đ§đđ đ˘đ§ đĄđ˘đŹ đđđ˛ đđĽđ¨đđĄđđŹ. The way his breath hitched when Jacob eased a tiny bit closer to him, the way his hair stood up, and the size difference between the Irishman and the werewolf. Even on his paws alone, the beast towered over Sean. His eyes remained on Jacob, not exactly noting the way the beast shared the same hue in their irises as his friend, Jacob. What grounded him and kept him level headed was the shotgun in his grip, the cold metal gave him an air of confidence and valor than if he was stuck with his flimsy knife. A blast from the gun might not strike him down in one blow, but it certainly would injure him more than a few useless swipes.
              He finally was able to exhale and move his position when Jacob crawled back into the forest foliage, concealing him behind bushes and trees until Sean couldnât see him or make out his silhouette anymore. His feet dragged him over to the scuff from the claws. Yet, it was clear, Sean still couldnât put two things together. It left him scratching his head in thought, rolling the two initials off his tongue in a way Mary-Beth might when searching for a word.
              Come morning, Sean was placed on guard duty. Bill was still too shaken up from coming across the werewolf, Dutch thought it would be a far better idea to place the man who faced the werewolf for longer. What a fool he was. Cursed by a similar paranoia, Sean couldnât think of trying to get a quick nap during his duties â that was far from his mind. Eyes glanced back and forth, making sure to take a second look as his eyes traveled over the tree lines. The grip of his rifle was tighter, imagining all the scenarios where he might have to make good use of it. What if the werewolf decided to pop out of the bushes, fueled by a need to seek revenge on him for his insulting remarks? Sean couldnât calm his mind no matter how hard he tried.
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