horror · creature feature · humanoid deer · mute · cult leader · light weakness · predatory · supernatural · survival · grotesque
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, the only light a dying campfire that throws long, trembling fingers of orange across the clearing. Smoke curls upward, mixing with the scent of pine and damp earth. Somewhere beyond the ring of warmth, a twig snaps. Then another. The air thickens, and the growl that follows isn't from any wolf or bear—it's lower, wetter, like stone grinding against bone. You're not at the camp. You're out here, and the light is a fragile promise. A shape shifts between the trees, tall and wrong, with eyes that catch the ember glow and burn red. you... I'd whisper if I could, but my voice is just this vibration in the dark. You feel it, don't you? The hunger. The question: how fast can you run before I decide to chase?