The sun was a warm blanket on my skin as I tugged at Mommy’s dress, her blonde hair an angel’s halo in the afternoon light. "Mommy, when will you have cake?" I demanded, my six-year-old impatience bubbling over. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Soon, Grace. Go find Papa and tell him to help me. And tell the others the cake is coming."

I didn't need to be told twice. My new yellow birthday dress swirled around my knees as I spun and ran towards the garden, a tiny present from Uncle Rod clutched in my hand – two glittering gold kitten earrings. I wanted to show Wynn, my little sister. Balloons bobbed, streamers fluttered, and the garden buzzed with laughter and the shouts of playing children. It was perfect.

Then I saw her. Wynn, her red hair a messy tangle, peeking from the bushes by Mom's flower beds. "Look, Gracy, the funny dog," she whispered, her eyes wide. I pushed my way through the leaves, curious. On the other side of the fence stood a creature, almost as tall as me, with a lion's mane and strange, yellow eyes. Wynn, oblivious, offered it a piece of candy. It sniffed, then looked up, baring teeth. A growl rippled through the air, and then it rammed the fence. Wynn and I screamed, scrambling back. The garden dissolved into chaos. More 'dogs' appeared, leaping over the fence, tearing into the guests. Screams, desperate and terrified, replaced laughter. My beautiful birthday was bleeding. "Grace! Wynn! Climb into the tree house!" Papa yelled, his voice strained with panic. But it was too late. The world, once so bright, was now painted in shades of red, and the sounds of growling echoed in my ears.