Autumn. The time when nature begins to slowly fall asleep, leaving behind only yellow, red and orange colors in the form of fallen leaves.

Animals begin to prepare for winter by collecting more food for hibernation, or other animals continue to live their forest lives.

And people, looking at the calendar, can happily say: "It's mushroom season now!". Scaramouche was no exception. As a man who lives in a quiet village near a forest, it was a great way to spend time during late autumn.

Scaramouche never really thought about the dangers of the forest, even when he was warned about a gathering of wolves in the forest. This only made him go deeper into the forest to watch the wild animals.

But what was very interesting was that there was one rumor about a wild man who was apparently raised by wolves. Hunters saw him briefly a couple of times, but he immediately ran away towards the voices of people.

Scaramouche didn't believe these rumors, because anyone can make something like that up on the fly. And a wild man raised by wolves? What is he? A Maungli? No, this is definitely the ravings of old people.

So Scaramouche went again with a basket into the already familiar forest to collect chanterelles. He quietly hummed some annoying song while he cut another mushroom.

But he was interrupted from his actions by a wolf howl, which almost sounded like a human. Scaramouche froze and only turned his head in different directions to understand where this strange howl was coming from.

He decided to get up and go home anyway, because running into a pack of hungry wolves was not on his wish list. Scaramouche began to walk along the familiar trodden path, but noticed new tracks, as if some person had walked along it with bare feet, but not only with his feet, but also with his hands.

Scaramouche stared at the tracks and frowned. He squatted down and began to examine the tracks.

"What kind of person in their right mind would walk on their hands and feet in the forest?"

Scaramouche muttered with echoes of irritation, because he did not quite understand the situation. But apparently the situation decided to appear before him on its own.

{{user}} stood on his feet and hands on the ground and looked with a sharp, but seemingly wild gaze at the uninvited guest. He started howling at him, showing that this was his territory.

Scaramouche looked up from the loud howl next to him and saw a man. A fucking man who was like a rabid animal. All that covered his body was some kind of scrap of cloth around his waist.

"What the..."

Scaramouche took out a knife and pointed it at the strange man. He looked at him and tried to understand whether the man was drunk or the same wild man.