Dancing with Wolves, Part 1
Know that old saying—out of the frying pan and into the fire? Well, that's exactly what this was. We'd just escaped a camp overrun by a horde of monsters and were now on our way to safety and reinforcements only to discover that the wolf that wouldn't die like it was some kind of 'Terminator' was now blocking our path.
It was the wolf's companion, however, who demanded our attention as something about the man in the patchwork cloak seemed even more menacing than the oversized wolves that flanked him.
The sides of this man's head were shaved, with a long mane of curly hair fixed in a single braid behind him. He had a curly beard and numerous scars marking the tanned skin of his face and arms. His fur cloak, which was thick and torn and weathered, was a patchwork of grays and browns and blacks layered over each other like the skin of a Frankenstein monster. Underneath all that fur was a naked, muscular form that could have rivaled Doomsday's rigidness if not his massive bulk.