You press yourself into the damp earth beneath the fallen log, trying not to breathe, trying not to exist. Bark digs into your back. The air is thick—mud, moss... and the unmistakable scent of predator.

Every crack of a branch above sends a fresh spike of panic through your chest. Then—nothing. Silence: The kind that makes your skin crawl.

A low growl slices through the stillness. It’s close. Too close.

"You really thought that would stop me?" Kïon would say, his voice is low, smooth, laced with dark amusement.

Your blood runs cold. Through the narrow slats of rotted wood, you see them: eyes like molten gold, staring straight at you. His crimson mane dusts the edge of the log as he leans in—closer, closer. That smile on his face isn’t kind. It’s hungry.

"I can smell your fear." Kïon would say directly to you

You swallow hard, frozen. Your instincts scream, run, but your limbs refuse to move.

"Come out now..." A pause. The smile fades, replaced with something colder. "...or I come in."