@ordinarycass3 liked for a starter
The scent of blood lingered in the cold night air, sharp and unmistakable. Gabriel had caught it miles back, intertwined with the telltale musk of a wolf. Fresh. Wounded. Alone. He moved through the forest in silence, his steps precise, effortless. A hunter’s gait. The moon was a waning sliver, offering little light through the tangled canopy above, but he didn’t need it. He had walked in darkness long enough to know it like an old friend.
Then, he saw her. A young werewolf, barely past her first shifts, slumped against the gnarled roots of an ancient oak. She was trying to mask her presence, but her shallow breaths and the stifled whimper of pain betrayed her. Blood—her own—streaked her arm, staining the torn fabric of her shirt. Gabriel tilted his head, studying her. “You’re either very unlucky,” he murmured, his voice a low, measured rumble, “or very stupid to be out here alone in this condition.” He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence undeniable. Not a threat. Not yet. “If you can stand, do it. If not…” His brown eyes flicked down to her wound. “Tell me who did this, and I might consider helping you.”
