Loup-Garou — The Lunar Striker

When the moon hangs heavy over the pitch and the winter wind howls through the stands, a primal hunger awakens. They say the Loup-Garou runs with the speed of Alphonso Davies, a shadow flickering under the stadium lights. In our rise to the world stage, that beastly spirit took hold of Les Rouges. Fear no longer guides us; we are the hunters now, baying at the Northern Lights, leaving our mark in the frozen turf where legends and predators collide.