the fear was rational. it didn’t matter how hard he tried to hide it, he knew that the beast could smell it. cal had lost count of the amount of times those teeth had ripped him to shreds, lost count of how many times those claws had torn through his skin. anyone else would have ran, but the hunter remained, too stubborn for his own good. fingers tightened around the knife, but only in self-defense. previous experiences had taught him that challenging the man-beast would result in failure, so instead he kept a respectable distance. “ let’s just --- stay calm and talk about this, alright? ” saying that out loud felt too foreign. usually those words were aimed at him, and not others. as a sign of good faith the hunter sheathed his blade. “ c’mon vince, you know i don’t speak dog. ” // @varcolacui // origin