Ambrose travels swiftly. Her steps silent as she bounds across the dirt, weaving between the buildings as she searches. After a few minutes her feet slow, and she launches herself onto a roof nearby. Hands are imprinted into its wood, scratches digging into the surface in the manic way of someone running.

Too small to be an adult. Too strange to be a child. With another few jumps Ambrose sails down to a few boxes stacked near the next house. More claw marks, manic in the way they dig into the wood. A small splatter of blood accompanies the marks.

Her eyes follow their trail to the farmland behind the house. Large brushes of overgrown crops cover the area, tall enough that it almost reaches Ambrose’s height, and numerous enough that her eyes see very little beyond the first stretch of green.

Ambrose hunches down, minimising her figure as she approaches them. The blood follows inside, smearing against the leaves. She disappears into the farmland and weaves through the flora, staying silent.

The trail takes her far from the village, her eyes glancing now and then to check the colour of the moon. After treading the dark farmland for a while, she makes it out of the other side and finds herself facing a forest. The blood has cleared up, but the footprints and claw marks continue into the forest.

Ambrose continues, moving slowly as she steps inside. The trees are dense, the ground covered with heavy foliage, and the moonlight barely filters through. Its sparse light splits into thin threads, the world narrowing around her as Ambrose watches the branches around her warily.

The trail takes her deep inside of the forest. The silence of the forest is uncanny. No critters sing, and no prey dart between the trees. It felt familiar to Ambrose. The decay of nature broken.

The lack of light begins to wear on her, and her steps slow as she carefully studies for the diminishing tracks. The creature she’s hunting grew less rushed the further it came, and became more and more careful in hiding its tracks.

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Ambrose still finds them, and each discovery moves her closer. Eventually she reaches a spot where the trees group into a thick bundle, and the tracks stop. Her eyes trail upward and find the claw markings dig into the tree’s bark, all the way to the canopy. The trees were grouped such that their branches and leaves formed a large platform above.

Ambrose gathers her breath, fixing her weapon to her waist, and jumps. She grabs the branches, and parts were the tree’s bark sticks out, and starts to climb. One bit at a time, listening carefully for the sounds of something moving.

By the time she makes it the top, Ambrose is exhausted. She heaves herself onto the final branch, and tumbles onto the canopy. Ambrose breathes heavily as she looks around. The canopy is mostly empty, except for a small enclosure in the middle.

It’s made of tree branches and thick leaves stuck together with some sort of adhesive. Shoddy, uneven, but a shelter. After gathering her breath, Ambrose steps forward. Her foot crunches into the leaves with the step, and sharp hiss escapes from the shelter.

Ambrose freezes, studying it for any sign of movement, but it remains still. A moment passes. Then another. Then she takes a second step, a second crunch, and a snarl is returned this time. Threatening, but desperate.

Ambrose unties her weapon and grips it tight, stepping closer and closer to the shelter. The voice dies down and only silence fills the space as Ambrose stands a foot from the refuge.

Ambrose stares coldly at the enclosure, before dashing inside and scouring its depths. She comes face to face with a creature. It cowers in the corner, its sharp teeth bared as it screeches at her. Wounds are lacerated across its body, the blood dried around the raw cuts.

Ambrose takes in the tiny figure, its frail body barely larger than a small child. Its ears are cut, jagged in a twisted way, its body grey and wrinkled. And its eyes, staring at her with such anger and despair, appear like splinted glass. Red and black and blue all swirl together in a smattering of colour across its iris’s.

As Ambrose’s eyes trail down its figure, the moonlight filters across the canopy and her eyes catch on a necklace that wraps around its neck. A wolf’s tooth is threaded onto it, with a single initial carved into its bone. S.