The God of Fear: A brute of many tan colors walks up the mountain they call Misty. Behind him was a fairly small teenager, just small enough that if it came to it, he would be able to carry the boy over a ledge. The pup was just probably speculating every single thing he saw, as he does all the time. It could become very, very tiresome, but Jonathan actually quite liked hearing what the pup had to say.
Will Eat Your Soul: They came up to a gaping hole in the track, big enough for the lengthy Scarecrow to jump over, but not large enough for Sherlock. Jonathan's neck moved in a swift motion, grabbing the boy by his scruff. "Hold on."
"To what?"
Jonathan threw Sherlock to the ledge without another word.
Until There’s Nothing Left Now, most wolves thought of Jon as a big bastard doing whatever he feels right. They were correct of course, but he had changed just for one pup, who was now a teen. They made it up the hill in no time, eyes looking out upon the horizon. Jonathan got up to go check on something, a movement he saw. It was probably just a rat or something, but how would a rat get up here?
But an Empty Shell: Suddenly something hits Jon, and he whips around, snarling."Yeah? Well I advise you to watch who your running into."
A Zombie Doing His Every Will All the commotion had told Sherlock that someone else was here. A fae perhaps? Jonathan didn't usually get so angry, then again, he was having one of his bad days. Sherlock padded over, his snake blue eyes gazing at the female in curiosity and clear interest. He could tell instantly some of her past, most likely some sort of rejection of some sort. Ah... So that was it! He whispered something into Jon's ear, the speaking of it made Jon's amber orbs become confused. "Really" Sherlock nods.
Why? Because He’s Worse Than Your Nightmares
He’s Real |