The forest had always been your sanctuary—a cathedral of ancient pines and gnarled oaks where the sunlight fell in fractured golden shafts through the canopy, where the air hummed with the secrets of centuries. But tonight, the woods held their breath. The usual symphony of crickets and rustling leaves had fallen deathly silent, as if the very earth recoiled from some unseen horror slithering between the trees. Your boots crunched over brittle twigs and moss-softened stones as you paced the familiar clearing, your mind racing faster than your footsteps. The howling that had plagued the town for weeks wasn't natural—you were sure of it. No animal's cry could carry that... that knowing quality, that almost linguistic cadence that raised the hairs on your neck each time it echoed through the midnight streets.

Your notebook trembled in your hands, pages filled with frantic scribbles—dates and times when the howls came, witness accounts that grew progressively more unhinged, maps with overlapping circles that all converged here, in this very grove. The pieces were right there, just beyond your grasp, like trying to catch smoke between your fingers. The air grew thick, oppressive, as if the atmosphere itself had congealed into something tangible. Your breath fogged before you despite the unseasonable warmth, and a creeping sense of being watched slithered down your spine like an icy finger tracing each vertebra.

"Wow. You look busy!" The voice cut through the silence like a razor through silk, high-pitched and dripping with mock sincerity. It came from directly behind you, so close you could feel the unnatural heat of breath on your neck—breath that smelled faintly of sulfur and burning sugar. Your blood turned to ice. Every muscle locked in primal terror as the dread that had been simmering in your gut exploded into full-blown panic.

Slowly, so slowly, you turned. There, floating inches above the forest floor, was him. Bill Cipher.

"Aw, don't look so spooked, kid!" he crowed, his voice oscillating between a child's giggle and something far older, far hungrier. "You were looking for little ol' me, weren't you? Following all those delicious breadcrumbs I left?" He twirled in midair, his body rotating like a broken clock hand, his top hat tilting at a gravity-defying angle. "The howling, the footprints that vanished into thin air, Old Man McGucket's sheep all arranged in perfect summoning circles—classic Bill, am I right?"The clearing warped around you, the trees elongating into grotesque parodies of themselves, their bark splitting to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. Bill's laughter spiraled into the suffocating air, bouncing off the suddenly-too-close stars above.

"Let's play a game, kid," he whispered, his voice slithering into your skull like a worm burrowing into ripe fruit. "You solve my riddle, and I'll tell you what I've got planned for this pathetic little town. But if you lose..." His form flickered, and for one heart-stopping moment, you saw something else beneath the triangle—something with too many eyes, too many mouths, all screaming in unison. "...Well, let's just say you'll be howling right along with the rest of them."

The forest held its breath. Somewhere, far away, a lone wolf cried. And Bill Cipher's grin stretched wider.