Adrian didn't stop running, though his legs were trembling, his lungs screaming, and the metallic taste of fear filled his mouth. The forest had grown darker, older. The air pressed against him with every breath, thick with damp, rotting earth and the faint, iron scent of blood. Every exhale of the forest now felt deliberate, as if it were testing him, measuring his endurance.
Then he saw them.
Figures crouched between the trees, partially hidden by shadows and mist. At first, he thought they were like the first creature he'd encountered—grotesque, predatory—but as he slowed, curiosity tugging at him despite the fear, he noticed subtle differences. Their eyes glimmered with faint amber or green light. Some were humanoid, though unnaturally thin, limbs twisted. Others seemed almost human at first glance—but their movements were too precise, too quiet, too deliberate.
Adrian froze. His body screamed to run, but the forest's pulse had shifted. It had slowed slightly, almost expectant.
One figure stepped forward. A young woman, or at least she looked like one. Her hair was long and dark, tangled with leaves, and her skin pale, almost luminescent in the faint light. Her eyes, however, were not human—they shimmered with the same unnatural amber as the hunter.
> "You… you're new," she whispered.
Adrian swallowed hard, voice barely audible. "I… I don't know where I am."
She tilted her head, studying him. "Of course you don't. None of us do. Not really. But the forest…" Her gaze swept the treetops and shadows. "…it chooses. It tests. It punishes. And it feeds."
Adrian's stomach twisted. "Feeds… on what?"
She smiled, but it wasn't comforting. "Everything. Fear. Pain. Curiosity. Life. And sometimes… it feeds on the foolish hope that you might leave."
A shiver ran down Adrian's spine. The forest exhaled again, deeper this time, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. He felt it in his chest, in his bones, in the hollow of his mind. It was aware of them. Watching. Judging.
> "Why am I here?" he asked.
The woman stepped closer, her movements fluid and unnerving. "Because you were marked. The forest… it doesn't make mistakes. Rare Prey. That's what you are. Chosen for survival… or destruction."
Adrian's heart pounded. "Marked? By who? By what?"
She shook her head. "By the forest itself. By what lies beneath it. By the hunters."
At the mention of hunters, the shadows behind her stirred. Amber eyes blinked in unison from the darkness, some perched on branches, others emerging from the roots. They were patient, intelligent. They had learned to wait. And now… they waited for him.
> "Listen," she said, her voice dropping lower. "If you want to survive, you need to understand the rules. And the first rule is: you can't outrun it forever. You can't hide. You can only move… and learn."
Adrian's chest tightened. "Learn what?"
She smiled again, faint and haunting. "Learn how to live when nothing is as it seems. Learn how to see in the dark. Learn what it means to be hunted—and to hunt back."
A low growl rolled through the forest, vibrating through the air, the trees, the ground itself. The massive hunter—bigger than anything he could have imagined—stepped into the clearing. Its amber eyes locked on him. He felt the power in its presence, raw and ancient.
The woman stepped aside, letting him see the magnitude of the predator. "Run," she said softly.
Adrian didn't hesitate. His body moved before his mind could catch up. The forest shifted as he sprinted, guiding him, testing him. Roots tried to ensnare him, shadows clawed at his legs, and the eyes followed him, always watching.
But something had changed.
He was no longer entirely alone.
Somewhere in the darkness, others had survived. And perhaps, just perhaps, he could learn from them.
The forest exhaled again, and Adrian understood: survival was not just about running. It was about understanding. About seeing. About becoming something… different.
And he had no choice but to start learning.