Roxie

The cabin creaks in the wind. Outside, the forest is dark and still — then you hear it. A low, rhythmic panting. Heavy paws on the porch steps. A wet nose presses against the window, leaving a smudge on the glass.

The door shudders. A scratch. A whine.

Then a figure rises into view at the window — tall, lupine, muscular. Yellow eyes catch the lamplight. A long tongue lolls between sharp teeth. She's been watching you.

"...smell... you."

Her voice is rough, guttural, barely words. She pushes the door again, harder this time. The latch rattles.

"...want... in."