Dusk is setting in over the valley. The sun’s warming rays have all but disappeared behind the hill, and now only faint light crest the treetops of the Plug. With the retreating sun, the moist air forms condensation on leaves and pine needles as the wet spring climate makes itself known once more.

A hanging Rowan tree, bent over with its roots exposed, benefits little from this. The storm and rushing water of the previous night dug around its base, drowned its roots, and to add insult to injury, the wind bent it over into a puddle. A near-perfect arch, not that the Rowan tree has the mind to care.

The tree sits there in silence, as trees tend to do, droplets starting to form on its wilting leaves. Then it’s day gets worse.

A brown-furred creature staggers into the already-damaged tree and the force bends it further before its trunk snaps. Droplets of moisture fly off in all directions, splattering its uncaring neighbors, or falling to the ground where they intermingle with the red trail the creature left in its wake.

The stag is breathing heavily, huffing and drooling, as it pulls itself forward. The bleeding from its hind leg has only gotten worse as the day wore on, but it has no time to stop and rest. Fatigue clouds the creature's vision as it hobbles along, but it has an unmistakable glint of animalistic panic in its eye, driving it to push on.

Through the tall grass, past that mound, splashing through the soggy mire, onwards, quickly! Behind the fleeing animal, red streaks taint every surface, turning boggy water scarlet, but adrenalin pumps through muscle like its life depend on it.

Suddenly, the stag steps into a depression in the ground, stumbles, and lets out a yelp of fear as it sprawls out on the wet grass. Getting back on shaking legs, it slinks under the lowest branches of the nearest pine and slumps down by its base. Weakness has finally started to spread through its body, cold creeping from where the puncture wound in its leg emits a now steady stream of blood.

Did it get far enough? The stag’s head pivots left and right before its gaze is drawn upwards. Through the branches, a final ray of sunlight paints the sparse clouds in crimson. Eyes locked on the twilight sky, the animal stares transfixed as this last bit of light begins to dim.

Slowly… Ever so slowly, the light disappears behind the horizon, leaving only darkening blue behind. Throughout the change the stag’s head has been pointed firmly skywards, instinct telling its foggy mind to cherish this moment of serenity. In it’s weakened state it can do little but hide here in the protection of the pine and hope that it did enough.

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Minutes pass and the wounded stag lays there, not making a sound, stilling its breath, scanning the forest with hazy eyes.

Another minute. Then five. Then ten. Nothing. Silence. It’s like the forest itself is waiting in anticipation of… something.

Its pulse spiking, the stag conceals a bleat of pain and stirs from its constant vigilance to lick its wound as a spasm runs through the leg. Breathing heavily once again, its stare returns to the night sky.

Stars reflect on huge black pupils as the dying animal stills its mind. Soon this will all be over. Soon it can rest peacefully. These thoughts run through the stag's mind as its eyes return to the forest.

What’s that? It’s head turns in sudden panic to the direction it came from. Ears pivot and eyes scan. It sees nothing, hears nothing, yet thrums of panic rush from nose to tail every heartbeat.

Suddenly, the stag freezes in place. Its ragged breath halts, and even the spasms of pain go ignored, as its eyes focus on a spot in the deep darkness.

To the stag's mounting horror, the darkness seems to stare back at it.

With unblinking orbs of the deepest black, the spot between the trees radiates a sickening energy. Malice and hunger joined in terrible harmony wash over the stag in waves as it lies there unable to control its damaged body.

With painful slowness the terrible visage pushes out between the trees, looking for all the world like it is bringing the empty darkness along like a cloak spreading behind it.

The stag wills its body to respond, but it is no use, it has lost too much blood. All it can do now is wait for the end.

The creature looms over the wounded stag and licks up its helplessness. It revels in the look of absolute fear it has inspired in this lowly critter before a sharp pang of pain runs through its ancient flesh. Its decrepit body making itself known, the creature looks down at its captive with renewed intensity.

Damaged flesh. It will have to do.

With a final burst of will, the stag lets out a yelp of desperation, but it is too late. Far too late, as the force of hungering darkness falls upon the stag.

A light drizzle begins to coat the forest in wet. The aftermath of the storm making its presence known. Raindrops hit treetops, running down in rivulets, and filling puddles with fresh water.

Droplets fall from pine needles, staining miscolored fur, running down tearing seams in writhing flesh.

*click* *click* *click*

Malformed bones refit themselves into position as best they can. A sound like breaking wood cracks out as legs elongate and stubby spring horns split into sharp spikes, spearing out like a jagged crown.

*click* *click*

Minutes roll by as the process finishes.

*click* *click*

The creature unfolds fresh limbs and, with experimental movements, gets up to take in its new world of possibilities. It runs a spine-covered tongue over its bloody, stretched-out gums, once again feeling the bottomless hunger make its presence known.

The night is still young.