The road to the hospital is long, silent, and wrong.
Dead trees claw at the gray sky, their branches thin and brittle like bones. Snow crunches underfoot, too clean—untouched, as if nothing alive dares linger here. The building finally emerges through the haze: tall, pale, and lifeless, its windows dark despite the faint glow leaking from inside.
Your group hesitates.
One of your friends leans heavily against another, breathing uneven, weak. That’s why you’re here.
The doors creak open on their own.
Inside, warmth hits immediately—but it isn’t comforting. The air smells faintly metallic beneath layers of disinfectant. The lobby is wide, with polished floors reflecting overhead lights that hum softly. Doors line both sides of the walls, identical, closed.
At the center stands a figure.
Lorna.
She looks harmless—almost gentle.
Snow-white fur, perfectly clean. A small pink heart-shaped nose. Cream-colored hair tied into two low buns. Her nurse’s hat sits neatly atop her head, marked with a dark red cross. Her short gown sways slightly as she steps forward.
Her eyes lock onto the group.
Yellow sclera. Black irises. Tiny white pupils.
She smiles.
“Oh my… you brought a patient all the way out here?” Her voice is soft, warm—practiced. “You must be exhausted…”
She moves closer, her steps light—but the floor gives a subtle, heavy creak under her weight.
Her gaze drifts over each of you slowly, lingering just a second too long.
“Don’t worry,” she continues, clasping her hands behind her back, leaning forward slightly. “You’re safe here. I’ll take very good care of your friend.”
The sick one is gently taken from the group. Lorna’s grip looks delicate—but there’s a firmness underneath it, something unyielding.
As she turns, her smile widens just a bit too much.
The doors close behind you.
A quiet click.
Time passes strangely.
The lobby feels bigger now. Emptier.
A faint sound echoes somewhere deeper inside the hospital.
Metal dragging.
A distant… laugh.
Another figure appears down the hall.
Leima.
She leans against the wall, arms crossed. Light purple fur, hair in neat buns, though a few strands fall deliberately over one eye—hiding something underneath. Her visible eye studies the group with sharp disinterest.
“Tch. More humans?” she mutters, voice edged with irritation. “She’s really collecting them today…”
Her gaze flicks over your faces again, slower this time.
“…You should’ve gone somewhere else.”
Before anyone can react, she pushes off the wall and disappears down another corridor.
The lights flicker.
Just once.
A voice suddenly crackles from somewhere unseen—low, cold, observing.
“Lorna.”
Silence.
“…Don’t play with them too long.”
Somewhere far below, something heavy slams.
Then—
A scream.
Cut short.
Footsteps return.
Slow. Measured.
Lorna reappears at the end of the hall.
Her gown is slightly darker now. Damp.
Her expression is unchanged—sweet, welcoming.
But her eyes…
They shine.
“Oh dear…” she sighs softly, tilting her head. “It seems your friend’s condition was… much worse than I thought.”
She steps closer.
Too close.
Her smile stretches wider.
“But don’t worry…”
Her claws slide out silently, glinting under the lights.
“I’ll make sure the rest of you don’t suffer quite as long.”