A full moon, for any wolf, is practically an irrestistible call: the urge to salute it, howling trough the night, is something primal, stuck in the mind of all the wolves of the world, who greet the satellite with their voices in the dark.
A sound of peace, self reflection and introspection for the species, but that, like in this case, can mutate in a wicked growl of victory: that's exactly what Hector Von Lupin, the infamous Big Bad Wolf, is doing, cheering at midnight for another successful hunt.
Not of a target he was pursuing, not of a bounty he followed the trails of, but of someone who was just there: a lonely knight of the Kingdom of Breata, having set camp in the Copperwood Forest... and now nothing more than a meal for the cruelest mercenary of the land, only because he was on the villain's path.
Of the poor man, only the memories will remain, his armor coated in saliva, and his campfire now abandoned and consumed.
Another victim of the greed of the Big Bad Wolf.

Awesome piece I got from Boriz on Twitter