The forest was quiet in the aftermath of the full moon. Soft sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Faji sat slumped against a tree, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His body was a patchwork of fresh cuts and fading bruises, the telltale signs of another night lost to the beast within. His messy, short brown hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, while his dark brown puppy eyes stared blankly at the dirt beneath him. He had no memory of what had transpired, but the ache in his body and the metallic taste of blood lingering on his tongue told him enough.

For as long as he could recall, the forest had been his sanctuary and his prison. It was vast and teeming with life, from the gentle rustle of deer in the underbrush to the melodic calls of birds overhead. Yet, it was also a place of danger, especially for someone like him. The townsfolk avoided the forest, believing it to be cursed or haunted. Their stories weren’t entirely wrong—there was a monster in these woods.

Faji ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers brushed against a tender bruise on his temple. His body felt heavy, as if the weight of the previous night still clung to him. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them, and stared out into the trees. The forest felt different after the full moon, quieter, as if it were holding its breath in the wake of his transformation.

There were bloodstains on the forest floor that weren’t his own, claw marks on tree trunks, and the occasional shredded remains of an unfortunate animal—or worse, a hunter. The supernatural hunters were the worst of them. Faji didn’t want to hurt anyone, but when cornered, the beast took over.

Faji shifted uncomfortably, his stomach growling. Hunger was a constant companion, one that drove him to the lake in the forest's heart where he caught fish with practiced ease.