Take that, you bastard
Damian crouched there, frozen, locked in a deadly stare-off with the wolf, its glowing golden eyes glaring through the pitch darkness, the sound of its growling the only thing louder than Damian's own rapid heartbeat. The beast's teeth were bared, gleaming in the faint moonlight, inching closer, step by step. The world around Damian blurred—nothing was visible except for those terrifying eyes approaching him, signaling his impending doom.
In a moment of pure terror, Damian felt his body betray him, warmth flooding down his leg. He had peed himself, his fear overwhelming all sense of dignity. It wasn't surprising—who could hold it together in the face of certain death? Certainly not Damian, and definitely not while staring down the jaws of a wild wolf.