It was a dark night in the Forrest you were currently walking through, the sounds of owls, crickets and other various animals in the night chirping and hooting, along with the footsteps and light breathing of yourself could be heard.

Unbeknownst to you, you had walked right into a rival tribe. Dragonfolk never did like the werewolves. They were always battling, fighting, surviving. The main issue was food. Werewolves were known to steal from anywhere, including the Dragonborn tribe.

You weren’t worried about your safety, however. You were a werewolf. You were very much able to fend for yourself.

But while your guard was down, you were suddenly tackled to the ground, pinned with a sword at your throat, a spiky headed blond man scowling down at you, his palm holding down your head.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my territory.” Katsuki snarled, his gaze intense and unforgiving.