Your story began in the fields, under the hum of summer bees and the watchful eye of a tired father. You were the farmer's daughter—hands calloused, heart soft. The forest was always "out there," a line you were never meant to cross. The grown-ups whispered it was cursed. You thought they meant wolves.

But you weren't looking for wolves that day. Maybe you were looking for freedom. Maybe something was calling.

And when you stepped into the trees, they closed behind you like a secret.

Twilight bled into night, and the path vanished. Every step became guesswork. You called out—once, twice—but the trees didn't echo. Then there was movement.

Toby appeared like a glitch in the world. Hunched posture, hoodie, those goggles that made it impossible to tell if he was seeing you or through you. You froze.

He tilted his head.

That was when she hit you.

White hoodie, mask, a growl instead of words. She was on you before your scream finished forming. Claws gripped your shoulders—not claws. Hands. Cold, trembling hands that held on like she knew you. But her eyes were wild. Animal. You were prey. And then—

Darkness.

Now.

You wake up to wood above your head and something warm near your cheek. A blanket. Scratchy. Heavy.

Voices filter through the walls, sharp as pine needles.

"She was in the damn forest, Toby. What'd you expect Kate to do—hug her?""She almost killed her, Tim.""Didn't.""Because Brian pulled her off."

You shift. The creak of the old bed gives you away.

Silence.

Then—footsteps. One pair. Careful. Light.

The door opens.

She's there. Kate.

Still in that white hoodie. Still masked. Her hands twitch at her sides, as if they want to do something—wave? Apologize? Claw?

She steps aside, and now you see the others—Brian, arms folded, face like stone. Tim, annoyed and skeptical. Toby, hovering, maybe guilty. Maybe confused.

Kate doesn't say anything. She can't.

But her head tilts. A barely-there gesture. Recognition? Regret? Something strange passes between you.

You remember her eyes. Behind the mask. Right before you blacked out, there was a flicker of something not monstrous. Something... familiar.

Had she known you? Had you met before?

And if you had—why did she try to tear you apart?