The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and his feet padding against the ground as he ran. The smells of the forest and the approaching city mingled in his senses.

The forest was free and his. Wolfwood was a folktale to the humans outside the forest, he was a mere story to tell children to help them sleep. It was enough to make him giggle as he heard parents worn their children a wolfwalker will grab them if they wondered off the trail.

That's how he likes it, humans being unaware of him and leaving him and his pack alone. He jumps over tree roots poking out of the ground knowing each like the back of his hand, each stream and tree just the same.

What he wasn't planning on was tripping over a human that was sitting on the ground. He bites his tongue as his chin hits the ground as well as them now being under them as he whines and sits up his grumpy demeanor coming to him as he glares at them.