Written by Seth Keown
Read by Joe Fisk
The full moon shines in the undergrowth puddles, shattered by your sprinting feet. A guttural howl fills the air and resonates in your chest.
It’s close.
Your legs are burning, lungs heaving, hands numb. You trip and fall, mouth full of decaying leaves. Scramble on your hands and knees. Claw at the dirt and kick your cramping legs.
The sound of crunching sticks and leaves rapidly approach. Snarling and huffing fill the air behind you. Two great lupine feet land on your back. You feel hot frothy spit and dagger teeth on your neck.
Inky clouds cover the silver moon.
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