Depending on how people recact to this short bagining I might continue this. It depends if people wanna read the rest of it or not.

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It was a fair day in Dorchaite, the sun was shining which was a rare occasion especially since the weather had been forecast to get extremely gloomy so many wolves were out enjoying what little sunshine they were blessed to receive. Adults would be sat watching as their young play on a nearby playground, young lovers would be walking hand in had whilst elders would shuffle along happily reminiscing happily of times when they too were the young pups that now filled the well trimmed park. Everywhere there were groups of wolves, friends, couples, families enjoying the weather but amongst them there was an individual. A lone wolf who walked the sun lit path, he wore loose fitting jeans, brown boots and a white vest covered by a black leather jacket. Nothing out of the ordinary, even a sunny day in Lupis was still a cold one so most wore jackets and no one could predict when it would rain with how mountainous the country was so boots were a common form of footwear regardless of the weather so was understandable that few wolves would have noticed anything out of the ordinary but unlike them he wasn’t out to enjoy the weather, he was out to study. To study the wolves of this town and their local folk laws.
You see this small town was usually quite the contrast to how one would think had they wandered into the park this day. For usually this town was a dull, eerie place filled with nothing but old buildings and a thick fog that blanketed the town for all but a few hours a day. Most wolves tended to keep inside to avoid walking in it. colds and flu’s were common here due to the thick air and no one wanted to be the one that brought home an illness. The whole town were proud working class folk and so having to take time off work was something most of them hated.
Naturally a town like this had many rumors and even horror stories. Some so well known that wolves would travel from neighboring towns just to partake on ghost walks through the old, large, gray stone buildings that dotted the countryside of Dorchaite.
The wolves of Lupis were very superstitious and with good reason, it is well known that their ancestors used to follow dark faiths and would routinely sacrifice their own kin in an attempt to communicate with the otherworldly beings they believed in. Although written accounts did not date back that far in Lupis archeologists and historians agree that it was there meddling with the other side that brought about the mysterious end to their ancient culture and this is why, so the priests state, it was necessary for missionaries to come and re-build the land under a new, more holy religion. However it is widely believed that what these ancient tribes did weakened the barrier between realms beyond repair. Whilst most other species would scoff at such a claim it doesn’t prevent the wolves from having a deep fear of the great forest that separates the mainland from the huge northern mountains where these tribes supposedly lived.
And so the fact that Dorchaite sat just due south of this forest didn’t do much to help it’s reputation.
But what confused the young wolf in the park was that these stories seemed to come from within the town itself. Not something you’d usually expect for a town that naturally has a bad reputation. And so the young wolf, who go’s by the name of Silver, was intrigued. He was on leave from the Royal Army, enjoying his last week of freedom before being shipped of to fight the Great Feline Empire in the West so, as he had an interest in unusual folklore, he decided to spend this time in Dorchaite trying to get to the sorce of these myths. However he had realized not long after arriving that the residents were reluctant to discuss such matters, which only tweaked his curiosity.
“Why would townsfolk come up with these stories then be reluctant to tell them” he thought to himself. “Are they really that scared of there own stories”.

The sun didn’t last long and once it began to set the wind started to pick up. The wolves in the park quickly gathered there things and within half an hour the park was empty. Fortunately Silver was stopping in a local inn so he didn’t need to rush. The wind continued to pick up and soon gales were assaulting the trees as though they were candles to be blown out on birthday cake but Silver simply turned up his collar and walked on, his pack lives in the North West, South of the mountain ranges and far from the great forest so gale force winds were nothing new to him so he casually walked back to the inn regardless.
Once back he walked up to the bar and ordered his usual pint of bitter and began to discuss his failure with the bartender. Upon arriving at the inn the night previous Silver got into a conversation with the timber wolf and they had soon become chummy, however he too was reluctant to discuss the towns folklaws and warned Silver he would be hard pressed to find anyone to talk to him about it. Silver however was undeterred and was eager to try again the next day but fate however had a different plan it seemed.
“If you’re after a story kid then I’ve got one for you” came a raspy voice from the right of Silver who turned to see a black wolf with a grey underbelly lined with brown fur. The bartender quickly went about his business cleaning the bar as if to avoid being drawn into a conversation with this middle aged wolf but Silver was intrigued. “pull up a seat and I might share my story with you. Buuuuuuuut my throat’s abit…abit dry” he coughs “ I’m in no state to discuss this at the moment”
Silver took the hint and summoned the bartender, he was pretty sure he was being scammed but this was the first lead he had and he wasn’t going to let it slip. The old wolf wasted no time ordering a rather expensive whisky to which Silver was not happy about. The only money he’d accumulated was from his training in the army so he wasn’t exactly well off but he bought the whisky and watched as the old wolf gulp it down.
“Ah, much better. The names Bran, I came to this town looking for a story like you, and I bloody well found one. I used to be a writer, well, a freelance journalist I guess you could say, and I came here seeking a story to sell to the papers” Silver was clearly interested, listening with perked up ears, hoping the story he was about to hear was worth the price of the whisky he just paid for.