Everyone owns a gun deep inside

It was cold… and the giant welcomed it. Snow fell from the heavens above and freezing temperatures touched the land around them. Melanthios knew well enough that they needed to watch themselves in this type of cold… built powerfully they might have been… but they were not invincible. Like any other wolf they could succumb to the cold, get sick, or even die from it.

Not to mention some of the other predators of the land seemed to be disturbed by the cold as well. A large, dark furred feline had been passed as Melanthios made their way into the crypt, fiery gaze thoughtfully analyzing them. The other seemed to be hunting… though whatever it was wasn’t really their concern.

Melanthios paused inside the crypt, shivering a bit. In here it was even colder than before, even if it was out of the wind. Gods, was there no escape from the cold? Their ears flicked back and the creature looked back out into the night. Did they have time to find another resting place? Perhaps… but maybe they could find something to make the best of this place. Some furs, perhaps…

Melanthios took a couple steps deeper into the unfamiliar territory, the hairs on the back of their neck on end. It smelled of rot and death… not exactly welcoming scents. There was also… blood? The memory of the feline flashed to mind again. Had it’s injured prey slipped in here?