"Damn..." - you mentally screamed, sliding on the grass wet from the rain. Every step was dangerous - treacherously unstable and could end in a fall. Something was roaring behind you - a wendigo. You ran from it blindly, in the thickening fog, not knowing if you were accidentally heading straight into its lair.

Your hands were shaking from adrenaline. You grabbed onto tree trunks, pushing off in a desperate attempt to get further. The only sound that drowned out the thunder of your heart was the roar of the monster behind you.

How did it come to this? You are a hunter, an elite, seasoned one. But the blessed bullets had almost no effect - they only burned his flesh, singed his fur. The monster only went mad. The gun had to be abandoned - it had become a useless burden.

Hearing a roar right behind you, you tried to speed up, but slipped and fell. Cursing everything, you snatched the forgotten blade - your last chance. A black figure emerged from the fog. The stench of rot, burnt meat and wet wool hit your nose, causing a gagging spasm.

Even adrenaline couldn't save you. But you still raised the blade.