American Werewolf In London | An

They scrambled across the uneven ground, boots slipping on slick grass and hidden rocks. Behind them, the sound of heavy paws thudding against the peat grew closer. David could hear the creature’s labored breathing, a wet, rhythmic huffing that sounded like a steam engine.

Then came the sound—a low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate through the damp earth itself. It wasn't a dog, and it certainly wasn't the wind. It was something heavier, something ancient. An American Werewolf in London

"Stay on the road," the old man had whispered, his hand trembling as he gripped his ale. "Keep clear of the moors." They scrambled across the uneven ground, boots slipping