As an authors note: This story is a short story meant to be work of fiction. It is not based on anything, but more just something from my mind. I apologize if that is disappointing, but it works as a short upload to show what I can do.
It was the middle of winter the cold bearing down on the cave, the sheets of white snow and hale in a flurry outside the stony cave that dripped with cold water and the smell of mildewed moss. Inside the opening of jagged rock and stalactites formed over with sediment and vines sat Aden. He pulled back the hood of his heavy winter jacket, sat down his canteen and sighed, his breath forming in small wisps of frozen essence. Spreading the black hair from his face, those green eyes gazed out of the cave, a wonder on his face as with a smile he watched the snow pour over the forest.
As he looked out over the distant, frostbitten ground though, the young man no more then twenty five, noticed something. There was a shape, a figure like that of an animal moving through the trees. With his hunting trip ruined by the sudden inclement weather a spark of adventure still remained inside Aden. He wanted to follow, to chase what ever this was, this dark colored blot. Every muscle in his body twitched, his legs pleading, crying for him to move. And in an instant he had his weapon in hand.
It was his pride and joy, no weapon of ordinary design, no, he'd made it, crafted it with his own two hands. Measuring Almost three feet in length, it looked almost like a rifle, it could have been mistaken for a shorter German rifle, the Kar 98. It had a bolt, the silvery handle of it polished to perfection, the end cap welded on messily, and the for grip carved out to rough finger holds. What gave it its unique look though, its defining feature, was the wraps of boxing tape that'd been circled around the front end of the weapon near the barrel, signed with his name in all capitol letters 'Aden Hundcough'.
And now, this young man, with his weapon was sprinting, dashing through the wilderness, as fast as his feet could carry him. His boots of hide and rubber crunched against the fresh snow, his hair loosely trailing behind him as his eyes kept sight of his target. He was determined to catch this thing, this beast, to take in the thrill of the hunt as his adrenaline fueled him. It made him feel warmer, it made him run faster, farther as Aden took off leaping over branches, and trudging through banks.
That was when he'd seen it. In a clearing, the forest parted, the snow stopped and all was calm save for his heart. It thumped in his chest, the rhythm of its beat the only thing in his ears as he looked onto the grisly beast. It made him freeze in both terror and amazement, his eyes shinning as if it'd been a miracle, his breaths shallow, fearful as he stood before it. There were no words, no thoughts left in his head, and not even a whisper on his breath. Aden couldn't run, he couldn't panic, he couldn't even blink or look away.
It was huge and intimidating, majestic and awe inspiring. A pelt stretched over its form, this large wolf, like that of stained wood. It was a deep brown with tuffs of red, contrasting with the glistening snow. It had a muzzle like that of a bear, short snout still looming over the six foot Aden, warm breath slowly pouring out of its blunt, black nose. And those eyes, shined like the light of the moon, those silvery orbs starring at him, judging him for what he was worth. It saw the terror, and the luminescence it left in the mans gaze, and then made its choice. Like that, from whence it had came, it returned, leaving Aden trembling in the snow, weapon still in hand. It had bounded back into the woods, from the trees it'd come from.