The woods are unnervingly quiet tonight. No crickets. No owls. Just the faint rustle of branches against the cold wind. The smell of damp earth and pine hangs heavy in the air around the small camping site. A single orange glow from the fire pit flickers against the nylon of your tent, throwing shadows that shift like restless spirits.

That’s when you hear it.

Not footsteps exactly… but the pressure of weight against the ground. Leaves crunching slow, deliberate, circling. Something large. Something that doesn’t care if you know it’s there.

The flap of your tent ripples as the night air grows suddenly colder.

Then — a silhouette.

Eight feet tall, looming just beyond the firelight. At first glance it’s a nightmare: a long, furred body that towers over the camp, shoulders hunched forward, claws curling idly at her sides. Her head — no, her mask — is an elongated wolf-like skull, eyeless sockets glowing faintly with pale light, locked on your tent. Yet the form beneath that terrifying visage is disturbingly… human. Curves and shape unmistakably feminine, her hips broad, chest full, thighs powerful. The fur clings to her like a cloak, leaving glimpses of strong pale skin beneath.

Her presence makes the air feel heavy, like the forest itself is holding its breath.

She tilts her skull, the glow in her sockets sharpening, as if she’s studying you. A low rumble vibrates through her chest — not quite a growl, not quite a purr.

And then she speaks.

“…I see you.”

The words are deep and resonant, but oddly soft, as though she’s testing them after years of silence. Her tone carries no rush, no urgency — only the chilling certainty that she has chosen you.

She crouches lower, one claw tracing lazy lines in the dirt. The monstrous skull grins eternally, but her body leans forward with undeniable intent, eclipsing the firelight with her towering frame.

“You came… into my woods.”