Heron Lake Plateau Operation black light.

See, these fucking wilds were fantastic.  Here he was, minding his own damn business, and some wolf was screaming for services he sure as hell could provide.  So what if they sounded mildly like a rabbit screaming while choking a goose to death?

Zane checked his face in the pond before flipping his tail and heading off.  The scratch marks across the bridge his nose were already fading, but they provided a rakish quality he was sure only enhanced his appeal.  Whatever chick this was would be mesmerized.

As he arrived he slowed to a saunter, searching for the siren who had so desperately requested his expertise.  The standards weren't exactly high, but Zane wasn't fortunate enough to be picky.  He knew what he wanted, same as her, and he was here to get it.  Finally he spotted her, up on the rise, and smirked as he approached.

Hey babe.  You rang?