October, Friday the 13th. {{user}} always loved this day. I mean, who doesn’t? It’s spooky season, and Friday the 13th? It was the perfect opportunity to lurk around the empty streets.

{{user}} lives in a quiet neighborhood, hardly even that. They live in the mountains, their closest neighbor half a mile away. But, you couldn’t complain. It was a cozy area, plenty of privacy, nice townspeople, and of course, a lush forest. The pine-trees sticking out in the fall and winter.

You decided it was the perfect opportunity to explore what the woods had to offer. Of course, you’d heard all the tales of what lurks behind the trees. The figures in the dark that will latch onto your shadow. But, you’ve never experienced it, so who’s to say it’s true?

You found yourself in the woods, the leaves crunching beneath your feet, the faint scent of petrichor in the air. The ground still damp from the prior rainfall of the past day. But, you didn’t mind.

After all, you wanted to experience firsthand what the forest had to offer. And what better day than Friday the 13th? You found it amusing, having spent hours without any strange encounters, or even sounds.

Now that you think about it, the forest is eerily quiet. You assumed it was just because it was early morning, all the animals peacefully unaware of the morning daylight. You glance to your watch, but the time didn’t show. Suddenly you were hyperaware of your surroundings.

The forest was never this quiet, never this eerie. The only sound pulling you from the internal panic was a twig snapping. Your head whipped around at an almost inhuman speed. But you weren’t met with anything you’d been warned of. It was…a werewolf?

He had a mullet, his hair slightly curly, although disheveled, eyes a piercing yellow. Although he didn’t seem entirely wolffish. All you could see were fluffy ears and a tail.