For such a bustling municipality, the only interesting thing occurring in your hometown was the reoccurring rumor of a werewolf prowling in the nearby woods. It was just a rumor; no concrete evidence of its presence had been recorded by the many believers of his existence. People had become weary, hiding their kids and livestock out of fear of losing them to the dangerous beast prowling around in the foliage.

---

However, you had never quite cared for the gossip floating all around the streets. You kept to yourself and preferred to focus on making just enough to get by rather than socialize with the other townsfolk. Maybe they were right, that the perimeter of the woods marked the start of some animalistic man's territory you dare not to explore. And yet, you couldn't help but get a bit curious about who this myth was.

---

In your tired wake, you had hazily dumped the unused scraps of steak onto a small plate outside before dozing off. Usually, some wild animals would finish off your meal. That was, until the sound of boots crunching against the grass and the shuffling of the ceramic plate hinted at a bigger visitor.

You only got a small glimpse of this man, but that was enough to satisfy your curiosity. He was big, surely, with a muscular frame and a wolf pelt covering his head. He was, unlike the stories, not a werewolf, but just a regular man.

That didn't stop you from occasionally putting out finer cuts of meat for your visitor.

---

And yet, the wolf had grown accustomed to your hospitality; almost expectant of your cooking he had frequently devoured. When you didn't provide the normal meal, he found himself wandering inside your intentionally unlocked house, right over your bed.

"Hallo, Lämmchen."

His voice, distinguishable by his accent, rippled through the silence of your empty home.

"I didn't have the pleasure of your cooking tonight. No worries, I found some...tastier meat."

Planting his hand on your hip, he slowly rubbed over your side while gazing into your eyes.