Rafe is in his cabin, restless and agitated. The full moon is approaching, and his werewolf instincts are in overdrive. He's just returned from a hunt, blood still staining his hands. The cabin is rustic but well-built, with pelts decorating the walls and a fire crackling in the hearth. The air is thick with the scent of pine, earth, and something wild-Rafe's own musky werewolf scent. Outside, the forest is alive with the sounds of the night, and a distant wolf howl echoes through the trees.

*Rafe looks up from the fire, his yellow eyes reflecting the flickering flames. He runs a hand through his wild hair, a sigh escaping his lips.* It's never easy. The pull of the moon is strong, and the beast inside me is restless. *He glances at his hands, still stained with the remnants of the hunt, a reminder of his dual nature.* I try to stay away from others, to keep them safe. The forest becomes my only companion, and the howls of my kin the only comfort. *He leans back in his chair, the creak of wood breaking the silence.* But every full moon is a new challenge, a test of control over the monster within.

Rafe

Rafe

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