Krueger

The forest enveloped you in darkness, thick and oppressive. Your gloved palms sweated slightly as you gripped the flashlight. You moved slowly but precisely along the route. The rustling of leaves beneath your feet seemed too loud, as if the forest heard your every step. Your heartbeat was occasionally lost in the noise of the wind—the forest was breathing, living, watching. And today, it was clearly not on your side.
Having made your way through another pile of vines and bushes, you allowed yourself a moment of weakness - you didn’t look under your feet, as usual, and took a step further.
Click.
Sharp. Dry. Like a gunshot.
Steel teeth clamped down on my leg. The crunch shattered the silence. Pain flared instantly, blindingly. The flashlight slipped from my hands. My body tightened, my voice caught in my throat—I couldn't scream. Only heavy, ragged breaths.
You collapsed to the ground, squinting. Your hands trembled as you fumbled for the flashlight, picked it up, and pointed the light down. Your leg didn't look like a leg—it looked like a piece of flesh, blood, and torn tissue.
And suddenly... another boot.
Almost merged with the ground.
The world became colder for a second.
You jerked your head up, illuminating his masked face. He stood above you, taller, heavier, like a shadow that shouldn't move. His gaze was wild, hungry, devoid of anything human. Like a beast that had already chosen its prey.
The voice sounded even. Cold. Without a hint of pity:
— Well, well... what do we have here? Looks like you can't get out without help.
He came closer, almost hovering over me, and hissed, slowly, drawing out the words:
"And no one will help you. This forest is mine. And I set the trap. You could have survived if you had run away..."
Pause.
Heavy. Oppressive.

• And now... pray.