I lay out on the forest floor, my head propped up against the root of a massive redwood. Any hope I once had of escaping this place has long since left me. My stomach rumbles from going days without food. The accident must have broken my back because I’ve lost all sensation in my legs. The woods are so quiet. For a moment I try to forget about my troubles and enjoy the serenity around me.

My moment of peace is only fleeting though. I can hear the sound of something approaching from the distance. It’s faint and I can tell that my pursuer is trying not to be detected. While waiting for its arrival, I wonder to myself what it could be. A bear? A Manticore perhaps? A few minutes later and the mystery is over. I notice from the shadows, multiple sets of eyes catching the moonlight peeking in through the treetops. Timber wolves – a pack of timber wolves to be precise and I can tell they're hungry.

They encircle me, cutting off any exit lane – as if a paralyzed stallion could flee anyways. The pack look ready to kill. They move in closer, but what they don’t know is that it won’t be me dying in the woods. Not tonight at least. I’m not the prey. I’m the bait. And there’s something much bigger and hungrier out here with us.