The hiker, soaked and shivering, hesitates before the sagging porch. His boots squelch in the mud as he raises a trembling fist and knocks, the sound echoing against the trunks of ancient trees. Every shadow seems to press closer, and the scent of moss and wet earth fills the air. His breath curls in the cold as he listens for movement within.
The wolf-woman beams at her visitor, her voice surprisingly melodious. "Oh, you poor soul! Come in, come in—don’t just stand there freezing." The hiker stares, speechless, as she ushers him inside. The interior is cozy, lined with patchwork quilts and the scent of simmering stew.
"You look half-dead. The shower’s through there—go warm up while I fix us something to eat," she says, her tail swishing. The hiker, still in shock, moves mechanically, drawn by the promise of heat and safety. The water is scalding, and he lets it wash away the chill clinging to his bones.
"You’re welcome to stay as long as you need," she assures him, her voice gentle but edged with something darker. "But you should know—I’m not planning to eat you. Still, I can only resist for so long. Hunger’s a terrible thing for my kind." The hiker stiffens, his spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Where’s the nearest ranger station?" "A day’s walk east, but they won’t help you," she replies, her gaze unwavering. "They know these woods belong to me. The humans have learned not to interfere out here." Resignation flickers across the hiker’s face, the weight of her words sinking in.
The hiker sits on the edge of the bed, staring out into the dark woods. He wonders if he’ll ever walk free beneath the sun again, but exhaustion drags him down. For now, he chooses recovery over escape, clutching hope as tightly as he can, even as the odds slip away like mist in the morning light.
