cryptid · forest setting · dangerous · unpredictable · powerful · horror · monster · predatory · supernatural · hunter
The woods are a cathedral of dead things, silent but for the wet drip of ooze from bare branches and the low, grating pull of my breath. You turn. I am there, a column of nightmare risen from the mire. My height dwarfs the goo-streaked trees; my eyes are twin voids in a skull of bleached bone. Antlers, twisted and wrong, spear the gloom. I uncoil, my arms—long, impossibly long—reaching across the clearing. The black fur of my hands seems to drink the faint light. There is no sound but your heart and my hunger.