Larry was nothing if not sure of his strength and so cockily responded that he didn't care what kind of crazy "local dogs" were running around. He was after all the biggest guy on the offensive line. Out of all the guys, 255 lbs Lawrence "Larry" Bridger was the one nobody wanted to fuck with, even though he was also by all accounts the guy on the team with the most friends. It might have something to do with his build; Larry was easily six foot five, and at 255 lbs Larry could best be described as mountainous. His body was the result of meticulous dieting to both maximize presence and musculature. While he was incredibly muscular in terms of his back, shoulders, arms chest and especially legs, his torso was a thick pillar of mass, pushing out into a gut. Larry's face was slightly rounded from all the weight, but this barely impacted his handsome, boy next door looks. Which combined with his blond hair made him the bachelor of choice on the team.
Larry decided for his part to go and head off to see what was going on around town. He was not scared of some dogs, he was probably bigger than most of them.
He turned around some rather old buildings, being dared to go through there instead by Daryl, one of the smaller guys. Larry had of course answered that he would more than come back out. He was not going to cower in fear of some growling dogs like a weak-ass. He was Larry Bridger! He tackled other linemen for a living! He chanced injury every single fucking day and came back out of it merrily banging his girlfriend by the end of the day.
He was caught unprepared and winced as he felt the pain of something's teeth - jagged and hot and sharp - dig into his shoulder. But Larry was not the kind of guy to run screaming from some pain. He promptly instead grabbed the wolf by the jaws and body even as he felt it try and scratch his arms to get it off of him...and threw it at one of the garbage containers inside the alleyway. The wolf landed with a harsh growl and it quickly ran off.
Larry was flush with adrenaline and shouted after it, "And...And don't you fucking come back, you fucking...fuck!" Okay he could probably have come up with better digs on a wolf or dog or whatever. By now the commotion drew the rest of the team over and Daryl of course got chewed out for such a dangerous dare. The coach was before long on the phone with a hospital, and the other guys got Larry to sit down and cool off.
He did not know when it was that the ambulance got there, just that he was loaded into it and his shoulder was bound up, which dragged a shout and a curse word of choice from him at anyone around. He was losing consciousness...and then he woke up in the hospital, groaning and wondering what happened. He looked around and sighed. He hoped he had not missed the big game out here in Cardiff...and he saw it had barely been a few days, and he still had about half a week / four days left till the game.
"What...happened to me?" He wondered and noted he was not held down by any machines or anything, and was wearing typical hospital attire. There was a mirror in the corner of the room...