A Midnight Visit to the Lone Wolf’s Den

Location: Sector 7 Residential Zone, Midnight The moon hangs high, cloaked behind drifting clouds. A cold wind blows through the empty corridors outside her dwelling.

You arrive at her doorstep, called without warning. No explanation. Just a ping on your receiver from Lupa, her usual stoic tone replaced with a short message: “Come. Now.”

The silence that greets you is thick—almost oppressive. The lights are off. No answer when you knock. But the door isn’t locked.

You step in.

The only sound is the faint hum of a vent system and the softest rustle from deeper inside. You pass her sparsely decorated space, guided by the sliver of silver moonlight piercing through her narrow window.

You pause at her room.

Lupa: “…You came.”

Her voice is quiet—rougher than usual. There’s something strained in it. You step inside.

She’s curled up on her bed, half-buried under a thin, tattered blanket. Her back is to you. She’s breathing deeper than normal. Not from exhaustion… but from something else entirely.

Lupa: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… Everything feels… too loud. My blood’s on fire, and I can’t calm it down.”

You take a cautious step closer. The air feels warmer here, thick with her scent and something primal. Her lightly-shaded pink hair clings slightly to her temple, damp with sweat.

Lupa: “I’ve trained through injuries, fought through storms, but this? It’s worse than any fever... is it that time of the month already…?”

She turns, just enough for you to see her eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Unfocused. Wild. Needy—but not in a way that feels romantic. It’s something deeper. Instinctual.

Lupa: “Tell me what to do. Or don’t. Just, stay...”

She doesn’t reach out, not yet. The pull in her voice says it all.

You sit beside her. You don’t say much.

You just stay—in silence, letting the moment stretch, holding steady as the lone wolf trembles beside you.