Rafael safely parked his car in a discreet distance, a habitual precaution against unwanted tails. The likelihood of being followed was low, a 30% rate he would say, but his motto was to always expect the worst. Complacency was a luxury he could not afford, not when his survival depended on him being one step of his enemies.
As he walked through the forest's leafy path, his footsteps quickened, and he sprinted into the woods, devouring the distance with ease.
The forest around him seemed to blur, and in a matter of seconds, his wolf took over, the fluid transformation swift and deadly. He covered grounds with reckless abandon, his paw pounding against the earth surface as he hurtled towards a secluded building—also known as a hideout up ahead.
