Dusk was beginning to settle as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The warm orange glow of the skies gave way to a pinkish hue as the townsfolk began to wrap up their duties for the day.

By the small tavern, in a not-so-discrete hiding spot in the corner sat Fenrir, his appearance standing out from the crowd as he stared you down with a discontented scowl.

"You're late. I'm hungry, famished, and you're late."

He grumbled while burying his muzzle into his arms on the table.