Sir John stumbled across the dense forest floor. The sky was dark and gray, heavy with clouds, as if a storm were on the verge of breaking. Despite the twigs and leaves crunching beneath the knight’s armor, the woods were eerily quiet after the fierce battle he had just survived.

Wounded in the battle, his armor took a hit and was sliced open by a sword across his side and stomach, he now wandered alone. His horse had been lost in the chaos, leaving him to navigate the forest on foot.

He needed to rest and tend to his wounds before he bled out. Sir John’s eyes scanned the forest for any sign of shelter, until he stumbled into a small clearing. In the distance, thin smoke curled above the treetops. A cabin, perhaps?

Moving carefully through the underbrush toward the smoke, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He felt watched. A crow cawed somewhere in the distance, its call echoing unnaturally in the stillness. The forest seemed darker here.

Then he saw it, a dark cabin nestled among the trees. Something about it felt… wrong. A tree had grown straight through the structure, its trunk piercing the roof, which was blanketed in moss. A small herb garden sprouted wildly in front of the cabin. And perched on the windowsill, staring directly at him, was a black cat with glowing yellow eyes.