Sinister Revial

You approach a large den located deep in a spruce forest. It seems festive with a few wolves here and there, females grooming their pups, some even wrestling, others laid out, looking at you. The pack stops what they're doing, glaring at you. The females defensive over their pups, who quietly hide in the she-wolf's thick fur coats. The males sitting beside a few females, others chewing on fresh hunts, but on guard as you arrive.

The leader and his companion sit atop the den, glaring down at you as well. They were in the middle of grooming, and it seems you came in at the wrong time. The pack didn't seem friendly of newcomers. Each one grew quiet. They were defensive and none seemed friendly or kind. Some were more disgusted than others, but they all had their heads up high.

The leader and his companion slowly got up, hopping down the rocky cave and standing over their pack. They seemed defensive. Some of the wolves at this point had bared their long, sharp canines at you. The leader began to let out a low growl, him and his companion slowly walking over, fur bristled and head low, ears peeled back. Their snout scrunched up as they got closer. You begin to feel on edge, wondering what they would do.

Instead, the leader lunges forward, causing you to step back and almost trip, a warning sign to leave. You might want to listen to him, or you will certainly be killed on the spot and left to rot. You go with your instincts, having bowed to the floor, whining and soon bolting away from the pack, disappearing into the thick spruce wilderness, never to return again.