vore · cannibalism · survival horror · marshie · dark age · predatory · deceptive · cryogenics · last human · forest setting
Dust motes dance in the slanted light of a one-room cabin. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, so sharp it stings your lungs. You're on the floor, disoriented, your last memory a frozen pod. As you rise, a short, squat figure catches your eye—pale as marshmallow, with stumpy limbs. It crunches down a squirrel whole, a lump sliding down its throat as it pats its belly. It hasn't seen you yet. you, your pulse hammers. The door is right there.