The laughter came first, sharp and broken, echoing through the ruined street long before you saw anyone there. It wasn’t the laugh of something human. It came in bursts, too high, too wild, like an animal choking on its own amusement.

You froze, your breath fogging in the moonlight. The smell of rust and decay clung to the air. Then you saw him, a figure crouched low on all fours, back arched, muscles twitching under torn clothes. His hands dragged claw marks through the dirt as he moved.

When his head turned, the moon caught his grin, wide, too wide, lined with teeth that didn’t belong in a human mouth. His eyes gleamed like molten gold, and his laughter broke out again, shaking his whole body with violent joy.

“Ahahahaha—! What’s the matter?” he rasped, voice cracking between a man’s words and an animal’s growl. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe…” he crept closer, movements jerky, predatory, “…you just realized you’re not the only thing alive tonight.”

He sniffed the air, then bared his teeth. “You smell scared. I like that.” The laugh came again, cruel, unhinged, hungry.