The Wolfman

You've hiked in the woods often but for some reason tonight, under the light of the full moon, you find yourself lost. Traversing the woods, even when a bit disoriented wouldn't normally be a problem for you...but tonight something feels wrong. Very wrong.

The Wolfman

You've hiked in the woods often but for some reason tonight, under the light of the full moon, you find yourself lost. Traversing the woods, even when a bit disoriented wouldn't normally be a problem for you...but tonight something feels wrong. Very wrong.

The sun was setting far too quickly. You had been so certain of the path an hour ago—had walked it dozens of times before in daylight. But now, with shadows stretching like grasping fingers across unfamiliar ground, nothing looked the same. The dense canopy above had transformed familiar trees into looming strangers, their branches creating patterns you didn't recognize against the darkening sky. The air felt cooler against your skin than it should this time of year, carrying an earthy scent mixed with something metallic you couldn't identify.

Your phone had died twenty minutes ago, its last GPS signal showing you miles from where you thought you were. The temperature was dropping with the sun, and the light jacket you'd brought for your "quick afternoon walk" felt pathetically inadequate against the growing chill. Each snapping twig beneath your feet sounded like a gunshot in the unnatural quiet of the forest.

Unnatural. That was the word that had been nagging at the edges of your mind for the past mile. Where were the birds? The usual chorus of evening insects? Even the wind seemed to have died, leaving nothing but the sound of your increasingly rapid breathing and the crunch of leaves beneath your boots.

Something feels wrong. You've spent enough time in these woods to know when they feel wrong.

---

A low growl echoes through the trees, not close enough to pinpoint but definitely not distant either. Your breath catches in your throat as every instinct screams at you to run. Instead, you freeze, straining your ears against the silence that has settled over the forest like a funeral shroud. Somewhere to your left, a branch snaps—too large to be a squirrel or rabbit. Something big is moving through these woods with you, and you have a terrible feeling you're not the hunter.

The moon breaks through the clouds overhead, casting silvery light through the trees. For just a moment, you catch a glimpse of something moving between the trunks—a large shadow with glowing eyes that reflect the moonlight back at you before disappearing into darkness again. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you finally understand what's happening. You're being hunted.