You open your eyes as blurry vision returns to you. You're surrounded by dirt and darkness, but your eyes slowly begin to make sense of your surroundings. You're lying on the cold dirt, next to the road you were just driving along. You blink, feeling a rush of pain go through your numb body. Your skin is grazed and cut up and your flesh bruised, but you don't seem to be in too bad a condition. Certainly capable of walking and fighting.


You force yourself to one knee, your eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. Your is shotgun lying close by you, and feel a breath of relief. You stand cautiously, checking to make sure nothing's broken one more time, before grabbing your shotgun. After making sure it's still loaded, before surveying the situation.


The trees to the side of the road are broken and crushed indicating where the truck must've gone off the road and down into the ravine below. Your eyes are slow to notice it due to it's black paint, but you see a pair of spike strips lying across the road. You stare at them in amazement for a moment, fingers clenched on your weapon.


This doesn't make sense. Werewolves never take human servants, and they're not tool users when transformed. They wouldn't put the spike strips down... unless they knew you were coming... and prepared beforehand. 


FUCK! This shitshow's about to get a lot worse. You're dealing with a worse enemy than a pack of maddened werewolves.


Struggling to the edge of the road, you stare down the steep ravine to where the truck lies. It's heavily crushed and damaged, beyond repair. You can hear screams down there, indicating that there's survivors. You doubt any of them are in any condition to defend yourself. But looking down at your current condition, you stand a chance.

You fall back and get out of this damned woods

You need to get out of here. There's no use risking your own life to try save your comrades when they're already most likely dead. Your shotgun ready in your hands, you head off down the road. Your body burns and pain shoots through your body, plus the energy sapped in your night's other hunts and surviving the crash means that exhaustion is quickly becoming an issue. You hurry along the road, taking up a steady jog along the road so you don't tire yourself out, but don't spend too long in these wretched woods. You keep your grip tight, as your eyes watch the shadows of the woods around you and struggle to hear the sounds of the surrounding woods over the sound of your tired, slightly panicked breathing. 


Several long minutes of jogging, as you try to get out of these woods again. You begin to hear nearby howls, bursting from the nearby forests and nearby undergrowth. Your breath catches in your throat, before you shake your head and continue jogging, speeding up your pace slightly. There's no use panicking. 


You hear the howls of the werewolves grow nearer, and you know that they're on your trail. No doubt, they know you'd be following the road back to the Lodge where you came from. You wonder whether it'd be safer to try to lose the pack in the forest around you, or whether you should stay on the road and hope you come across something soon.

You stay on the road, shotgun at the ready

You continue sprinting down the road, staying on your path and refusing to yield. You run for a long time, hearing the howls of the werewolf pack growing louder and closer. Each time one howls, it seems like they're at the edge of the road or right behind you, but they're not, not just yet. Keeping a steady pace, you ignore the burning of your muscles and the horrible pain of your cuts and bruises, your body wanting nothing more than to collapse. Still, you keep your mind focused, keeping to a steady jog rather than an all out sprint that would leave you exhausted in no time at all. Just keep running and you'll make it out of there. Hopefully.


Suddenly, you hear the howl of a werewolf, and it's so close, so clear, so loud that you know that you need to do something. Glimpses of gray fur and white teeth begin appearing on the edge of the forest. It's time to act.

You break to a sprint and get out of there

You sprint, running as fast as you can, your lungs burning. Your feet burst along the tarmac, as you refuse to slow down. Your strides are now more akin to leaps as you fly through the air, charging forward. You hear the growls grow closer, the howls almost being roared right in your ears. You can practically feel the flicks of spit and blood landing on your ear from how close the werewolves' maws are when they howl into you, causing you to shiver with fright. Seconds later, a force like a truck smashes into your back, sending you smacking into the tarmac of the road. You bounce along the road, before skidding to a stop as the rough tarmac strips off a layer of skin, blood bursting forth. 


The werewolf's not far behind, its claw slashing at your unprotected neck. The claw tears through flesh and slices through your spinal cord with ease, as your head is ripped off from your broken and bleeding body, bouncing along the road as it comes to a stop, a pained, terrified expression now forever frozen on its face.