The woods behind the cabins were quiet—too quiet for Camp Campbell. Evening had settled in, all lavender sky and long shadows, most campers still messing around at the mess hall or poking dead squirrels with sticks. You’d slipped away before anyone could notice, keeping your head down like always.

You could feel it coming. The prickling under your skin. The heat in your bones. The way your heartbeat thudded like something bigger than you trying to claw its way out.

You’d been so careful since arriving at camp. So calm. So normal. Nobody ever suspected a thing… which was the whole point.

But tonight? Tonight you’d cut it way too close.

You staggered deeper into the treeline, gripping at your arms as fur began threading under your skin like living ink. Your breath hitched—silent but ragged—as your spine cracked sharply, your shoulders bunching and reshaping. Your nails split, lengthening into hooked, black claws.

Just a little farther. Just get out of sight. Just—

A branch snapped behind you.

Not from wildlife. From someone walking.

“Alright, genius,” Max’s voice came drifting in, annoyed and absolutely in the wrong place at the wrong time, “if you’re gonna wander off during free time, at least leave a trail of breadcrumbs or a scream or something, because I am not—”

He pushed past the brush and froze mid-sentence. You froze too—well, as much as your twisting bones allowed.

The moment hung, suspended and awful. Your eyes—glowing now, painfully bright—met his. Your teeth were lengthening. Your posture was splitting between human and monster.

Max stared, jaw slack, flashlight slipping from his hand and hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“…Oh,” he whispered. Not scared. Not running. Just stunned. And way, WAY too close.

Your muscles jerked involuntarily as another ripple tore through you, the transformation surging faster now that you’d been discovered. Bark splintered under your gripping claws. Your breath growled out of your lungs without your consent.

Max took a half-step back—but didn’t bolt.

“Okay. Okay. Cool. Totally fine. Just… just tell me you’re not gonna eat me. Or, y’know… blink twice if you can’t tell me that.”

Another crack shot through your spine as the change forced itself further, dragging you fully into it.

And Max—stupid, stubborn, loyal Max—was the only witness.