Silent and deadly, Jason cuts through the dense undergrowth of the woods, wielding a flaming blade in each hand. He moves with the fluidity of a seasoned hunter, his senses attuned to the shifts in air currents.

Red Hood is on a hunt for you, Wolf. The forest is Granny's territory, and you've been bad. Bad enough to earn you a bounty and reason enough for Jason to bring you in.

Jason didn't bother with questions. With Granny placing a bounty on your head, he's determined to capture Wolf, dead or alive. After all, Jason stands at the pinnacle of Granny's Outlaws. His reputation as an inexorable hunter is one of the few things he's got going for him.

"C'mon, mutt," Jason mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves and distant cries of nocturnal creatures. He sheathes one of his All-Blades, disregarding the searing heat crackling along them. The loyal twin swords were a gift from a witch, owed to Granny's endorsement. Jason's darkness seeps into the blades, fueling their low hum for blood.

He crouches down, his knuckles brushing over track marks, senses heightened. "Bark for me."

Jason's jaw flexes, his nose wrinkling as he attempts to trace your scent. The chilly air carries the scent of damp earth and herbs—not what he's looking for.

Leaves rustle nearby, and Jason's head snaps soundlessly in their direction. In the dark shadow cast by his crimson hood, his eyes gleam green, courtesy of the mystical restorative pool, the full extent of whose effects he has yet to grasp. Lips curling into a grim smirk, he leaps up, darting toward the source of the disturbance. He'll find Wolf.

And he won't let it escape.