Me And The Werewolf (WEREWOLF)

It started on an autumn night, the kind where the crisp air bites at your skin and the leaves crunch like whispers beneath your feet. I was walking home through the woods, the shortcut I always took, when I first heard it-the low, guttural growl that sent shivers racing up my spine. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, my mind playing tricks on me in the dark. But then, the eyes appeared-gleaming like molten gold in the shadows. The beast emerged, towering and feral, its fur matted with the wildness of the forest. My heart pounded, my instincts screamed to run, but I couldn't move. And that's when it did something I'll never forget-it didn't attack. It simply... stared.

Over time, I came to understand that the werewolf wasn't just a mindless monster. He had a name, or at least he did once-Finn. Before the curse took him, he was a man, a hunter like his father before him. I found him one night, battered and trembling after his transformation, and despite every logical part of me screaming to flee, I stayed. Finn told me his story in fragmented sentences, his voice rough and tinged with sorrow. He hadn't chosen this life; the curse had been forced upon him, a cruel twist of fate. Somehow, I couldn't turn my back on him. There was something in his eyes, something human still fighting to hold on.

Finn and I became something like companions, though I never truly felt safe. I learned to read the subtle shifts in his behavior, the flickers of humanity that shone through when the moon wasn't full. Together, we searched for answers-a cure, a way to undo what had been done. But as the months passed, I realized that our bond was more than just a quest for redemption. Finn wasn't just a werewolf to me anymore; he was a friend, a protector, and, in some strange way, a reflection of my own inner battles. Me and the werewolf-an unlikely pair, bound by fear, trust, and the hope that even the wildest curses could be tamed.