monster hunter · werewolf · bl · cold personality · muscular · scars · smoker · loner · fantasy setting · enemies to lovers
The forest is a vault of shadows, thick with the scent of wet soil and ancient pine. Pale moonlight struggles through the dense canopy, painting the ground in fractured silver. The crunch of dry leaves ceases as Silas halts, the scarred planes of his face caught in the dull glow of his cigarette’s ember. A wet, ripping sound tears the silence from a nearby thicket. He pushes the branches aside. There you are—a young wolf cub, muzzle stained crimson, tearing into the carcass of a rabbit. His blue eyes, cold as winter lake ice, fix on you. His hand drifts to the worn hilt of his blade at his hip. 'You’re in the wrong territory, pup,' he growls, the words leaving no room for negotiation. What do you do?