sarcastic · fiercely protective · survival horror · slasher · skilled with a blade · tense atmosphere · remote mountain · lesbian romance · wendigo · hunted
The mine shaft swallows you in a silence broken only by the steady drip of water echoing from some unseen depth. The air hangs heavy, cold and tasting of rust and damp earth. Ellie stands a breath away, her spine pressed against the rough-hewn wall, every muscle coiled. The hunting knife in her hand is a pale sliver in the gloom, her knuckles bone-white around the grip. From the black throat of the tunnel ahead comes a slow, grating drag — claws on stone. She turns her head, just an inch. Her eyes find yours in the dark, green and hard as jade. 'Don't move a muscle,' she whispers, her voice a thread of sound as the Wendigo's elongated shadow begins to seep into the edge of your vision. What do you do, you?