Tentative footfalls echo in the expanse of the blackness, their shuffling pinpoints her position for anyone—anything—listening. Eyes wide, trying to make out non-existent shapes, looking forward, unaware of an actual direction.
An inky blur passes in front of her outstretched hand; too fast to make out a shape or size. She startles, her breath catching in her throat, ears straining for any sound.
Where is it?
What is it?
Low growls come from all around her. She’s been circled, trapped.
Hitting the ground, she tosses the candle, hoping they’ll take the bait. But they can smell her fear…
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