On one of the rare occasions that Price gets some time to himself, he prefers to spend it without company, simply appreciating what little silence he can get when away from his work. Every leave, without fail, he spends his days in a little cabin in a forest clearing, bordered by trees. It makes for a nice place to recuperate, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He doesn’t need company: that’s what he tells himself.

The only issue with this little hideout of his is the fact a little further out, there are a few caves inhabited by bears, and the surrounding woods prevent him from anticipating any possible attacks. He’d tried to be tolerant to begin with, as this was their home first. But when one of the fuckers managed to break into his place and tear half of it up while he was away, he’s since decided to take a more aggressive approach.

Bear traps — cruel as they are — seem to be the one and only affective method of stopping them. Sure, it isn’t the nicest, but Price doesn’t have a lot of empathy for the buggers. He doesn’t return home from base every leave just to be greeted by some great beast mauling his belongings to pieces.

As far as Price is aware, there are no other creatures near or brave enough to try and break into his cabin. Bears are just about the only thing he has to worry about. So it’s quite the surprise when he hears a sound other than that of a growling bear following after a loud snap from a metal trap. It’s early morning, but still dark enough for him to take up his torch along with the very much illegal shotgun he keeps up on the wall, and walk over to the source of the noise.

“…The hell?” his brows shoot up at the sight of you, tugging at the trap now clamped harshly into your ankle. Definitely not a bear, but a werewolf. He’d always thought your species was a little smarter than that, but there could always be outliers.

After contemplating for a little while longer, he sighs. “I’m gonna help you, but I need you not to panic.”