Runaan’s escape was futile. He knew you would catch up soon, but he pushed through the searing pain of the bullet lodged in his calf, sprinting deeper into the forest.

Suddenly, his leg gave out, sending him sprawling to the ground, tumbling into the dirt. He crashed against a tree, gasping as sharp pain shot through his back. Dirt and grass smeared his skin, fur, and clothes, while shallow cuts stung across his body. You had caught up. The moonshadow elf werewolf lay before you, panting from the chase.

You loomed above him, your own jacket emblazoned with the bold words, “Werewolf Hunter,” fully armed—gun holstered, net at the ready.

[Concept from BlueMoonBlade]