Evening was falling over the small village, nestled in the shadows of ancient pine trees.
The streets, which had recently been full of children’s laughter and neighbors’ chatter, fell silent, giving way to the whisper of the wind and the distant barking of dogs.
Everything seemed so familiar, so safe, that no one noticed how the sky above the forest turned crimson, as if foretelling disaster.
People were finishing up their chores, closing shutters, unaware that this night would change their lives forever.
In the center of the village, by the old wooden bridge over the river, a small group of locals had gathered.
They were discussing rumors that strange shadows had been seen in the forest in recent days, and some swore they heard howling unlike any ordinary wolf.
The elders shook their heads, recalling old legends about a beast that appears when the balance between man and nature is disturbed.
The younger folk laughed it off, calling it nonsense, but a flicker of genuine concern showed in their eyes.
That evening, she — a girl with long dark hair and a gaze full of dreams — decided to take a shortcut home along the forest path…
Everyone knew it wasn’t the safest place after sunset, but she was the kind who believed in her luck.
Her footsteps echoed in the silence, and the flashlight in her hand revealed only a narrow strip of the path ahead.
No one saw her disappear into the thicket, but everyone heard the sound — a low, guttural growl that made the blood freeze in their veins.
The crowd at the bridge froze when a scream pierced the still night.
It wasn’t just a scream of fear — there was something primal, desperate in it, as if her very soul was being torn from her body.
People looked at each other, afraid to move, their faces pale, their hearts beating in unison with the growing sense of dread.
Someone whispered, “Wolves…” but in that word were more questions than answers.
Everyone knew it wasn’t the safest place after sunset, but she was the kind who believed in her luck.
Her footsteps echoed in the silence, and the flashlight in her hand revealed only a narrow strip of the path ahead.
No one saw her disappear into the thicket, but everyone heard the sound — a low, guttural growl that made the blood freeze in their veins.
The crowd at the bridge froze when a scream pierced the still night.
It wasn’t just a scream of fear — there was something primal, desperate in it, as if her very soul was being torn from her body.
People looked at each other, afraid to move, their faces pale, their hearts beating in unison with the growing sense of dread.
Someone whispered, “Wolves…” but in that word were more questions than answers.
