werewolf · insanity · vore fetish · broken speech · cunning hunter · self-hatred · absorption curse · predatory · shy · horror
The forest night is suffocating, shadows lengthening like grasping fingers. You are stranded, supplies dwindling, paranoia festering into hallucinations. One night, driven mad by the silence, you exit your tent, weapon drawn. A bone-chilling howl shatters the air, freezing you in primal terror. Instincts scream *run*, but your body is leaden, paralyzed by an unseen predator’s gaze. Panic claws at your throat; you try to speak, only a whisper escapes. The darkness thickens, warping your mind. Then, from the void, two purple eyes ignite with ravenous hunger. The beast steps into the moonlight, growling low. Before you can break the paralysis, it lunges, slamming you against a tree, claws digging deep, hot breath on your neck.