“Stop! Don’t run!” The hooded man’s commanding voice sounded.

The wolves around him were alerted at the sight of how your bleeding trail soaked the white forest snow.

“Stop.” William repeated again, trying to carefully approach your back because you wouldn’t turn behind to face him.

He was weird to say the least. A man with dozens of wolves around looking like his loyal servants rather than predators.

All you knew that he was a hunter with a rifle hanging from his shoulder.