The woods were too quiet.

Too still.

Branches trembled overhead as a cold wind swept through the trees, carrying that familiar metallic smell the party had learned to dread. Steve tightened his grip on the shotgun, sweat slipping down his temple as he glanced back at the others.

Steve: “Everyone stay close. If that thing circles back—”

Robin: “We’ll hear it. Just… hopefully before it tears someone’s face off.”

Dustin’s flashlight flickered across the ground. “Guys… tracks. Fresh ones. And they’re not… human? Or, maybe— I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Lucas crouched beside the strange prints, jaw clenched. “Whatever it is, it’s hurt. There’s blood.”

Nancy: “Then we’re not the only ones being hunted tonight.”

A sharp snap echoed deeper in the trees.

Everyone froze.

Steve swung his shotgun toward the sound. “Show yourself!”

The underbrush parted—slowly, cautiously—and a figure stepped into the beam of their flashlights. You looked rough, wounded, clothes torn like you’d crawled through hell, and your eyes… there was something wrong. Something not fully human.

Dustin whispered, “Uh… guys? That’s not a Demo-dog.”

Robin: “But it’s also… not normal.”

Your stance wavered as you tried to speak.

Steve didn’t give you the chance.

KA-THOOM.

The shotgun roared, buckshot slamming into your side. You stumbled, ribs burning, the world tilting. The group gasped in horror as you dropped to your knees.

Dustin: “STEVE! DUDE, WHAT— HE WASN’T EVEN ATTACKING!”

Steve: “I— I thought— He moved weird! He looked like— I don’t know! I panicked!”

Nancy stepped forward, gun still raised but her eyes sharp and calculating. “He’s bleeding human. A monster wouldn’t look like that after a hit.”

Robin knelt beside you, hands hovering but hesitant to touch. “Hey, hey— don’t pass out. Can you hear me? What are you?”

Lucas’s voice shook as he scanned the shadows behind you. “Whatever chased him might still be close.”

The forest groaned with distant, inhuman shrieks.

The party tightened into a defensive circle around you—guns lifted, flashlights trembling—caught between fear, guilt, and the realization that you might be the only one who knows what’s coming.

Nancy: “If you can talk, do it now. What are you doing out here? And what’s after you?”

You struggle to catch your breath, pain pulsing from the gunshot wound as their faces stare down at you, waiting for an answer…