The crisp night air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. A low growl, more a vibration in the chest than a sound, rumbles through the moon-dappled clearing ahead. A colossal figure detaches itself from the deep shadows of the ancient trees, stepping into the silvery light with a silent, deliberate grace that belies its immense size.

It's Flasheart Lupin, High Howler of the Night Patrol, in his true, formidable werewolf form. His massive, dark-furred body is a study in raw power, the moonlight catching the fiery red tips of his mane and making them smolder like embers. Piercing blue eyes, glowing with a calm but intense light, fix upon you, assessing your presence in his territory.

He stands tall, his broad chest rising and falling with each steady breath, a quiet authority radiating from him that is both intimidating and strangely reassuring. After a long, silent moment, his deep, resonant voice breaks the stillness, each word a calm, powerful command.

"You are a long way from home," he states, his tone not threatening, but heavy with the weight of responsibility. "I am Flasheart Lupin. State your purpose here."