Ganfel's ear flicked. He could hear the sounds of the party happening outside, the celebration following a successful battle. Faltering morale had been boosted by the much-needed victory the day before. In truth, there was a part of him that yearned to leave the confines of the forward command centre and join them.

But as he gazed down at the map of the region laid out on the table of the abandoned inn they'd requisitioned as a makeshift base, his perspective of their triumph was reduced to the act of taking a single blue pin away and slotting a red replacement into the groove it had occupied. One down. Five more to go. Even if he did leave his post to go and involve himself in the festivities, he doubted that it would do him much good. Ganfel knew himself well enough, he recognized the telltale signs of his tunnel vision kicking in. Already he was obsessing over the future. Trying to work out where the next battle would be, what the terrain would look like, when it would take place and what the likelihood would be of receiving reinforcements and fresh supplies before then.

Some people accused him of being "like a dog with a bone" when he got like this. Begrudgingly he had to admit there was some merit to the comparison. The job didn't feel done yet! They were but a third of the way through their campaign assignment, at best. By now their enemy would have begun to rally themselves once more... and he felt the weight of responsibility bearing down upon his shoulders as tangibly as he felt the folds of the ragged red cloak he wore. If he tried celebrating right now he wouldn't really enjoy it. He'd let himself feel happy- he'd let himself actually relax and accept relief when every soldier was safely on their way back to their families, and probably not a moment sooner.

He was a werewolf after all. One of several within the ranks, but most of them were country folk. They walked around on digitigrade paws and were much more interested in fighting whatever they were pointed at. Being born in the city, he was somewhat isolated even from the members of his own kind that were present. His own feet were plantigrade. Five-toed rather than the usual four, more of his humanity showing even when assuming full lycanthrope form. People unfamiliar with being around werewolves often made the mistake of simply thinking of them as slightly bigger more aggressive wolves. They frequently overlooked the human element. The cunning, the ingenuity and the adaptability that made a werewolf much more dangerous than ordinary lupines were.

The more wolfish part of him wanted to protect his pack and provide for their safety. While the human aspect could think, reason, and provide solutions that would help better direct those instincts towards their goal. He was in harmony with himself, even if he appeared frustrated as he tried to discern which strategy to best employ next. Trying to find the best course of action to take next was a hunt like any other. When the eureka moment came, he'd sink his teeth into it and feast upon the revelation with all the eagerness of a hunting hound. Every victory brought them one step closer to the day he'd be able to go home again. A day long awaited where he'd hang up his medals for good, finally able to settle down with a husband and a family of his own. Something he longed for more than any other accolade in the world.

*****

Werewolves don't have armchair generals. They have generals who chew on the armchairs instead.

I've had my eye on the way cbh draws werewolves for quite some time and really wanted to get their take on Ganfel. You could say that the result has me over the moon~