Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

Midnight had already swallowed the forest when Marcus Hale stepped off the narrow trail and into the deeper shadows. The moon hung low, barely piercing through the thick canopy of ancient trees. Frost clung to every branch, and each breath he took turned into pale mist in the freezing air. Marcus was an experienced hunter—he knew these woods well. Or at least, he thought he did. Then he heard it. A sound unlike anything he had ever known. Not a wolf. Not a deer. It was… wrong. A long, stretche