The people who resided in the village started packing up faster, some even leaving their belongings behind. This was in hope to collect it tomorrow. Children were herded into their homes by guardians as loud barks were heard down the path, as well as a sound not unlike a pick against stone. As the people scurried inside a man stood at the mouth of the path. He frowned out at the noise, tuning his worn hand through his blond hair that was starting to show gray. “What in the king's good name is out there?”, He said, as if hoping for some kind of aunswr. Though when none was given, he picked up his pitchfork where it had connected to the ground and sat on a stump where the path was still in view. Never to loss sight.

Though the little ones who lived in the trees down the well worn path were meet by a very strange sight. A furry creature with both black paws and the face to mache let another bark escape his troughs as he ran trough the trees, but with a pursuer still hot on his tail. Though unlike the smaller, who maneuvers the forest with years of practice and with fear and anger visible on it features, the larger smiled. With each push of his hind legs he got closer by the foot, only swerving when obstacles layed in his path or his fur or scale got caught. He was smiling as wide as his face would allow, and his eyes were bright with joy. Even as the air around his mouth was greedily gasped up, the creature kept whispering. “Hug, hug, hug, HUG!” The monster chanted almost without noise, almost in a trance. He kept saying this as he ran, up and through, down and under and above. The monster kept almost catching up, before being blocked and caught by years of predator traps, but it only slowed him. As both creatures broke into the now night air the larger powncd, picking up the smaller in the process and ending up on his large furry back. He was aware of the flowers and plants that were getting tangled as well, but he show no care. Nor did he see the others anger. He only hugged the small, fluffy creature with joy. In a flash of claws and a growl and a yelp, the large creature’s snout was littered with drops of crimson and green. He looked out with misery as he saw the creature run back into the woods, drops of red glistening on its claws and anger on its face. The creature then curled up, gently stroking his injured nose and muzzle with droplets of sadness in his eyes.

 “What is the world,” murmured a voice from close by. “What is going on?”. 

The creature raised his head, drops threatening to spill over the brim of his eyes. At the edge of the circle of flowers where he layed stood a tall tan woman, with berry black hair and toasted hazel eyes. When she saw his face, she rushed forward and grabbed the sides of his face. 

“Are you alright,” she asked, her voice full of concern , “I heard a loud noise from my home in the wild bird, and now your here, and hurt? What happened here?” 

The drops then spilled over as he tried to explain, though it only came out as a wine and a studdeding. He massaged the soft earth and flowers between his paws, giving up on using his voice and just looking up at her. The women looked between the creature, and the damage to the garden he now laid in. She let out a heavy sight, and motioned for him to get up.

“Come on,” she said, laying her hand on his scaly neck. “I have some supplize in my home, and I can’t exactly leave you out here in your state.”.

She led him by more circles of flowers and plant, to a cabin by the side of the clearing. The house’s walls curved into the shape of a circle, surrounded by plants and vines. Derectly from the path was a large door, large enough even for Ulfur. As they walked into the house, the sent of drying herbs and a spiced fire. The place was simple and cozy, with a large pile of furs and cloth by a window. He shuffled over and layed down, letting out a sigh of comfort. 

“That was the laundry pile,” she said with a hint of humor in her voice as she pulled out a mortal and pesal . “But I suppose if your comfortable.” She finished plucking some herbs from a dry rack. 

As she worked, grinding and mixing and plucking, Ulfur closed his eyes, only to fling them open a moment later as a cool, stinging paste was placed on his wounds.

“Ouch!” He said, snapping up to look at the women who was now staring at him in shock. “That stung!”.

“I am sorry,” she said as she more gently smears the cool paste on the now dried red as the monster wiggled around. “This may sting, but it will help you heal faster without a scab. But after this I need you to answer a few questions. For instance, I know your not from here. None of the monsters native to here have black claws or crimson eyes, or can talk. Now hold still!”

She grabbed his nose, making him stay still as she kept on applying the mint green paste. In the warm home, the women worked. The wounds shutting as the cream was applied. The monster visibly startled as he realized how much easier his breath came. As the time inched by, his eyes slowly dropped until they did not open again, filling the room with soft rhythmic breathing. By the time the sun finally broke the horizon, the gentle light blanketed the two. A young woman snuggled into the dark fur of the monster, softly snoring. The room full of the smell of dry fruits and herbs, as well as the faint aroma of burned cherry wood. Leaving the world to its own, if not but a bit longer.