Peter did not expect this. Not at all. He freaked out, big time. He was enjoying his midnight walk in the park. Of course not to buy anything illegal. Anyways, he was walking through his nice neighborhood park, just inhaling the good old healthy air, when suddenly he heard a loud ringing noise. It was so loud that he grabbed his ears, and buckled over. And then the weird stuff happened. When the ringing noise was over, he was not in the park anymore. To further consolidate that believe, behind those trees stood no drug dealer. Or the drug dealer had somehow morphed into a wolf. Either way, the situation seemed bad. Enough drug deals gone slightly bad had given him quite a good instinct when he needed to get out of a situation. Not that he needed that instinct, the 100-pound wolf running towards him already did the trick of convincing him that he needed to get the hell out of there. He ran, not the brightest idea to do, he had watched enough National Geographic and History Channel that he needed to stand still and look threatening. But no, adrenaline kicked in and his cortisol levels soared through the roof, reaching an all-time high. Peter had no mental capacity left to think about the best course of action.

A tree, a tree! Of course, somehow Peter came to the realization that he maybe would be able to climb into a tree. Wolfs couldn’t climb in trees, right? The wolf almost neared him. He didn’t dare to look back, for fear he would trip in the dark and die. Lucky for Peter, the ragged breathing of the wolf gave his location away, and by the sound of it, the wolf was indeed very close to him. In the beginning he only heard a loud howl, that’s when he started running. In Peter’s defense, the wolf was very scary looking and had bright red eyes, the annoying bleeps that he heard didn’t make it any better either. Slowly over the course of his sprint, the breathing and noise became louder. The breathing at the moment was a bit too loud for Peter’s comfort, and with athletic skill he hadn’t displayed since 8th grade, he jumped and reached for the nearest branch.

Wolfs, however, could also jump. And when Peter somehow managed to grasp the branch and pull himself almost on top of it, the wolf got close enough to jump and bite a bit of Peter’s leg. Tough luck for both parties involved. With enormous adrenaline powered shakes of his leg and one well-placed kick with the other leg, he managed to get the wolf to leave. Albeit with a bit of his calf. The wolf’s howls sounded a little bit sad, and if Peter interpreted correctly, even a bit disappointed. While to wolf was circling around his branch, Peter finally had a chance to take a breather. The adrenaline ebbed away, and the pain rushed in. A scream echoed through the woods.

Peter couldn’t say fuck enough times, the pain stung like a bitch. He was sitting on a sizeable tree branch, quite high in the tree. He had moved higher up as soon as he could, in fear the wolf would make a second attempt. After inspecting the wound in his right leg, he deemed it not fatal. It didn’t bleed enough, and he could still move it, although it did still hurt. Still, he wanted to do at least something to stop an infection, because he knew the period after inflection was the most crucial for recovery. Thanks, Bear Grylls. A bout of searching followed, every pocket turned upside down and emptied in his hands. In total, he had: a wallet with a modest amount of cash, keys, a lighter, a couple of rolling papers, and a little bit of leftover weed.

Weed was a medicinal herb. Peter was in pain. Peter had a wound that needed treatment. So Peter rubbed half of his weed in his calf, and lit a joint with the remaining part. It calmed him down, as he took deep breaths, the pain left him. Then he once again heard a ringing sound, he was able to focus on it this time though. And oh boy, what he saw next was weird.