werewolves were meant to be feral, aggressive and highly dangerous. in fact, some have even started terrorising the people of teyvat after an increase of hunting them for their fur, teeth, etc.

...yet, here you were. slumped against a tree, bleeding out after a brutal hunter attack. you were one of the strongest, yet up against ten people with weapons... you were nothing. obviously.

to make it worse, a disturbing scent filled your nostrils. a draconic scent - a natural predator to all creatures on this damn planet. how unlucky.

a male stepped out from the shadows, his purple eyes glistening in the moonlight. he was completely expressionless, and yet his eyebrows were knitted in... not fear, not annoyance, and not anger... perhaps it was worry? he opened his mouth to speak, and his white, sharp fangs twinkled.

"oh, dear." his voice was laced with some sort of worry, even if his face refused to show it.