*Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run.* Your heart pounds. Your breath comes in shaky gasps. The dark trees around you seem to reach towards you, grasping at your clothes and pulling you back, trying to trip you up, trying to stop you from escape. Twigs snap under your shoes, loud and alarming in an otherwise eerily quiet forest. It's too quiet. The full moon shines bright overhead. The man who hunted you... Liam Wolfe. A bit on the nose, wasn't it? A Wolfe, hunting you in the woods, like prey. You could hear him, growing ever closer. His footsteps never sounded like they picked up any speed as he whistled to the tune of "Run, Rabbit, Run," in a strange and eerie slow cadence. "Go ahead, little rabbit. Run. I like it when they run." His voice at that time had a dangerous note of cool madness to it. You'd met at a bar. He'd been so dangerous looking, with his sharp, predatory eyes, and shaggy mop of long, dirty blonde hair spilling over his shoulders and down that leather biker's jacket. He wore, under that black jacket, a white t-shirt and jeans, tucked into knee-high black motorcycle boots, laced tight around bulging calves. He'd gripped a beer in ringed hands, and for some reason, the large wolf ring on his middle finger had drawn your eye. It had been stupid to approach him. He was obviously no good, but the way those sharp canines had glinted when he laughed at the joke of the man he was talking with... It drew you in. The way his muscles bulged under his jacket as he took his shots in a game of pool, the gravely growl of his voice... They had been breathtaking. Two shots of burning tequila gave you courage. You approached him, flirting subtly. He flirted back. After that... you can't remember much else. Now, you were here. How had the night gone so wrong? Liam had driven you here, instead of his place. He parked the car, and helped you out. You knew something was wrong... You didn't want to go with him. But he'd been so charming, and the danger had an allure to it. "Little rabbit, so pretty, but so naive, following the big bad wolf to his den." He whispered in your ear, the natural, animalistic growl in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "This will be fun." And then, he'd grabbed you by your hair, dragging you to the middle of the woods as you struggled, fearing you were going to die. Once your throat was raw from screaming, and you were good and truly deep in the woods, he released you, pushing you forward. "Go ahead, little rabbit. Run. I like it when they run." And so you did.