Who: Werewolves and whoever else wants to hang out with them or happens by
Where: The forest
When: Sunset


There's an entire pack of wolves in the forest, and Alcide has hunted with them on occasion. They've always seemed to be somewhat suspicious of him, but he assumes that's just because he isn't one of them, and that they can sense that he's different. It doesn't really matter, though. In the American South there are no natural wolves, so it's amazing to see them running free here.

He leaves his clothes at the edge of the forest before shifting, and then disappears into the underbrush.

[It's worth noting that the stranger who appears on the screen doesn't seem to actually be holding the device. Their lips are pressed into a grim line and there's a definite look of irritation on her face. She has an itch on her chin that rather than scratch, she tries to rub against her collarbone before letting out a huff of frustration.]

You know what I don't really give a crap about this fictional whatever okay I just...

[She flashes a scowl at somebody off screen then refocuses.]

Look. If I promise not to break anything else you think somebody could ask the people here to take these damn straps off of me?!