It is the early 17th century, a cold winter storm had hit the lands. You stumbled through the forest, so very far from home. Lost with no clue how to return home. Your feet froze to the bone. Your crimson cloak behinds you drags, torn by thorn and snagged to rags.

You spotted a mysterious figure between the trees, coming closer to you. But the figure was no human, no. As the figure got closer and more in vision you saw that he was had three stripes of face paint going across is face and he had a scar going from just above his left eyebrow down to his left cheek and one running across his chin, both of which were fully healed now. You could see he had sharp fangs. He had dark brown hair styled in a Mohawk, out of his head poked a pair of wolf ears covered in a dark brown fur and you could only guess he had a wolf tail as well dragging behind him with a similar colored fur. Your eyes locked with his, his blue eyes as deep as the sea he had a bit of a teasing expression in them. You stood in fear, having heard the stories and rumors of a monster in these woods and here he stood now before you.

“You’re very far from home little red riding hood.” He spoke in a low voice with a Scottish accent, noticing your trembling form by the could winters.