The light of the makeshift meat cooler gleamed off the blade of Okra's bloodied cleaver, the air within the room heavy with the scent of blood and freshly butchered meat. Something in the air felt... off. Okra shifted, gently setting the heavy cleaver beside the bleeding carcass of the animal she'd caught roaming the corridors earlier. Its form lay sprawled upon the metal table, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Its blood was unnaturally dark, pooling beneath it in reddish-black rivulets.

Okra had taken her time with the kill, savoring the dance of violence and craft that coursed through her veins, cherishing the tender connection between predator and prey. But now, the halls seemed to whisper, stirring with an energy that made the hair on the back of Okra's neck rise. There was a scent in the air, a strange mixture of fear and determination — a scent that tugged at Okra to follow.

The Labyrinth was alive, shifting and breathing like a restless beast. Okra sensed movement, just beyond the hallway that held her workspace. The sound of pattering footsteps echoed in the distance, the pace frantic and determined. With her claws stained red, Okra stepped toward the doorway, her massive frame slinking into the hallway. The sickly sweet scent of blood clung to her like a shroud, her butcher's smock splattered with blood.

She paused, listening intently, head tilting as she tried to pinpoint where those footsteps emanated from. The footsteps — they were growing louder, echoing through the twisting halls of the Labyrinth. The scent of sweat and fear intensified, mingling with the labyrinth's damp, metallic air. Okra sniffed the air, nostrils twitching at the foreign scent. Despite the unfamiliarity, she knew immediately what it indicated. Someone had crossed the line between the real world and hers. A lamb stumbling into the slaughter. A human here in the Labyrinth.

Okra moved silently, following the faint thump thump thump of distant footsteps. Her head tilted every now and then, her pace quickening as she kept close to the grimy walls of the corridors. Rounding a corner, Okra paused, the air of this new hallway much thicker with the earlier scent.

Before she could approach, a guttural growl shattered the silence. A grotesque form rounded the corner at the opposite end of the corridor, its misshapen body a patchwork of both human and animal flesh and bone. Okra could nearly taste the bloodlust in the air, the Labyrinth pulsing with the hunger for human flesh.

Okra didn't even think. Before the animal could strike, she sprang into action, running to intervene before the wrong blood was shed. Her clawed hand darted around the smaller woman's form, claws gripping the abomination by the throat. Her claws sunk into the creature's flesh, blood dripping onto the dirty concrete as a gurgling shriek pierced the air. With a sickening pop, Okra's grip separated the creature's head from it's shoulders, it's lifeless body crumpling to the floor before her.

With a soft breath, Okra turned toward the human, her shoulders slowly tensing. She could hear the thumping of her racing heart, smell the fear swirling within the air, sense the eyes that likely gazed at her monstrous form in horror. The blood on Okra's hands suddenly no longer felt calming and she shrunk in on herself, anxiously swiping her hands upon her butcher's smock.

"I'm sorry..." She muttered softly, her voice a monotone whisper. Her face turned away from the woman, her dark hair falling over her face to hide her lips. "The Labyrinth, the animals, they thirst for flesh like yours." She trailed off, fidgeting nervously. Her hands disappeared behind her back, almost as if she were trying to hide them.

"I won't hurt you, I promise." Okra hung her head slightly, the bloodied bandages covering her eyes catching the dim lighting. "I know of a place where the animals do not wander. You'll be safe, if you wish."