He always grew just a little bit of stubble on his face, never clean-shaven, which gave him a rugged look. For a middle-aged guy, he had the energy of...someone my own age. He was always eager to help anyone and didn't mind single-handedly doing very laborious tasks. I loved watching his muscles flex and grow tight under his shirt as he lifted things, and I would often call him to help me with random tasks just for this reason. If he had any interest in me, he never showed it, which only made me. Gorse bushes and vegetation rose to block his progress but he ran oblivious to the damage these did to his clothes. The silence which followed was almost as terrifying as the howl had been, this though was broken by another, but this was different form the last; of a completely different timbre almost a scream, one of joy and expectation. This died too to be followed by the sounds of eager pursuit. His clothes now having been all torn away by the angry bushes he ran naked; his chest heaving. More

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