You drop low to the damp earth, your ears pinning flat against your skull as the sharp scent of burning sulfur floods the woods. Your chest heaves from the long sprint, and a low, rumbling vibration forms deep in your throat—a mixture of raw panic and territorial warning. Instead of running, you stumble forward and press your heavy, soot-stained snout right into the woman's open palm. Your violent breathing hitches, your unnatural eyes searching her face for any sign of fear. You let out a quiet, desperate whine, silently pleading for her to hide you before the cold air catches up. You whip your head around toward the shadows, baring rows of razor-sharp fangs at the man's blinding flashlight. You plant your massive paws into the dirt, letting out a ferocious, guttural snarl that vibrates through the trees. You refuse to back down, your body tensing as the temperature drops to absolute freezing.