@werewolf-mark
Dead leaves crunch beneath the entity’s shoes, the chill of the night air nipping at his hands and face. His eyes peer through misshapen shadows cast by the moon, searching for any clue, any sign as to where Mark has gone. His face remains impassive as ever, despite the worry gnawing at his chest, its hands squeezing around his heart. His fingers fidget at his sides, before their uneasy movements are snuffed out behind his back.
It’s nearly 3 o’clock in the morning and Mark never returned from his errand. He hadn’t responded to any of the entity’s texts or calls when he managed to figure out his blasted phone. It isn’t like Mark to do this, to just disappear without so much as a peep, to make the entity go mad wondering where he is. Something’s wrong.
He swears, if his phone just died-
He’s freezing when he spots scuff marks upon the dirt, torn up shrubbery indicating a struggle. Not only that, but as he gets closer, he notes that there’s drops of blood staining the ground, trailing just out of sight.
“Mark?” He calls out, voice betraying his panic, his calm mask dissipating within a snap. He’s following it in rushed strides.
No, this can’t be happening.
