Rockie bounded through the snowy streets of Warmwool, their paws leaving deep prints in the fresh powder. They couldn't contain their excitement, their tail wagging furiously behind them. The thought of joining the Christmas party at the Warmwool Inn had filled them with an infectious joy—an unbridled enthusiasm that bubbled over into joyful yips and barks. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Rockie threw themselves into the party. The warmth of the inn enveloped them, dispelling the chill from their fur. The room was alive with the crackling of the grand fireplace, twinkling fairy lights draped over every surface, and the melodic hum of laughter and cheerful conversation. Festive decorations adorned the walls, casting a warm, enchanting glow upon the gathered guests.


Their keen canine senses picked out the scents of roasted meats and mulled wine, and their stomach rumbled with eager anticipation. Rockie's enthusiasm bubbled up in a series of happy little barks as they made their way through the crowd, sending smiles and laughter rippling through the room. "Rockie, you're here!" exclaimed Mabel, the barkeep, a stout woman with a heart of gold. She was wiping down the bar with a jovial smile, her laughter resonating through the bustling inn. Rockie bounded over to her, nearly knocking over a table in their exuberance. "Mabel! I've been looking forward to this all week!" Mabel chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I can tell! You're practically vibrating with excitement. Let me get you something to eat, dear. You must be famished after your journey through the snow." Rockie's ears perked up, and they gave a happy, breathy growl in response. "That sounds amazing! I could really go for a whole roast boar right about now." Mabel's laughter filled the room, blending with the merry tunes of the minstrels in the corner. "A whole roast boar it is, then! But try not to eat at the table in the meantime, alright?" Rockie's laughter joined Mabel's, lighthearted and infectious. They felt at home here, surrounded by warmth, good company, and the tantalizing aroma of holiday feasts. But beneath their excitement, a quiet unease lingered—the nagging thought of the impending full moon and the primal call of the wilderness.


As the festivities continued, Rockie's senses prickled with a growing restlessness. Their jovial demeanor faltered, giving way to an unspoken tension in the air. Their gaze flickered to the windows, where the moon loomed large in the night sky, casting an otherworldly glow over the wintry landscape outside. A distant, haunting howl echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Rockie's spine. The familiar, wild call stirred something deep within them, a primal urge that clashed with the warmth and merriment of the inn. Amidst the laughter and merrymaking, Rockie's ears perked up, their instincts on high alert. Their friends and companions were here, blissfully unaware of the inner struggle that raged within them—a struggle that threatened to erupt with the rise of the full moon.