The forest held its breath. The symphony of chirping crickets and rustling leaves had been replaced by an oppressive silence.
Even the wind seemed to cower, refusing to disturb the unnatural stillness. Ruck, sweat stinging his eyes, straightened his back, the metallic groan of the CPW a grim counterpoint to the growing tension.
He gripped his sword tighter, the moonlight glinting coldly off the scarred metal.
Suddenly, a tremor ran through the earth, like a giant taking its first tentative steps. The ground beneath Ruck's feet rippled, sending a shower of loose leaves skyward. Then, from the inky blackness of the trees, something emerged.
It wasn't a wolf. Not by a long shot. This was a creature of nightmares, a warped reflection of nature's fury.
Its massive form, easily twice the size of a bear, was obscured by thick, matted fur, the color of a rotting corpse.
