Raw

chapter 1

Jack's boots crunched over fallen leaves as he navigated the familiar trail. The crisp autumn air filled his lungs, a welcome respite from the stuffy office he'd left behind for this weekend camping trip. Solitude in nature was his escape, his therapy.

As dusk approached, he set up camp in a small clearing. The routine was second nature to him: tent up, fire started, freeze-dried meal rehydrating. Jack smiled to himself, relishing the simplicity of it all.

A twig snapped in the encroaching darkness beyond the fire's glow. Jack's head snapped up, eyes scanning the treeline. Probably just a deer, he thought. But the silence that followed was unnatural, heavy.

Another crack, closer this time. Jack reached for his hunting knife, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "Hello?" he called out, immediately regretting breaking the silence.

A low growl answered him, unlike anything he'd heard before. Not a bear, not a wolf. Something... else.

Jack barely had time to react as a blur of motion erupted from the bushes. Pain exploded in his calf as teeth sank into flesh. He yelled, slashing wildly with his knife. A yelp, and suddenly the pressure was gone.

Panting heavily, Jack stumbled to his feet. Blood trickled down his leg, but in the flickering firelight, he couldn't make out what had attacked him. The woods had fallen silent again, as if nothing had happened.

With shaking hands, Jack cleaned and bandaged the wound. It didn't look too deep, but a nagging worry gnawed at him. "What the hell was that thing?"

As he lay in his tent that night, sleep eluded him. The bite throbbed, a dull ache that seemed to spread through his body. Fever dreams plagued him - visions of running through the woods, of hunger so intense it felt like his insides were twisting.

When dawn broke, Jack emerged from his tent, exhausted and disoriented. The events of the night felt distant, almost unreal. But as he packed up camp, a new sensation overtook him.

Hunger. A hunger unlike anything he'd ever experienced...

Jack's stomach growled fiercely as he shouldered his pack. The protein bar he'd grabbed for breakfast tasted like cardboard in his mouth, doing nothing to satiate the gnawing emptiness inside him. He chalked it up to a restless night and started his hike back to the trailhead, eager to get home and properly treat his wound.

As he walked, the forest seemed different. Scents he'd never noticed before assaulted his nostrils - the musty odor of decaying leaves, the sharp tang of pine, and something else... something that made his mouth water involuntarily.

A rustle in the underbrush caught his attention. Before he could process what was happening, Jack found himself moving with inhuman speed, diving into the bushes. His hands closed around soft fur, and a high-pitched squeal pierced the air.

Jack blinked, suddenly aware of what he'd done. A rabbit thrashed in his grip, its heart pounding wildly. The scent of fear and warm blood filled his nostrils, and that gnawing hunger roared to life.

"What the hell am I doing?" Jack muttered, but he couldn't bring himself to release the animal. Instead, he found himself lifting it to his face, inhaling deeply. His jaw ached, saliva flooding his mouth.

No. This isn't right. Jack shook his head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to have settled over his mind. But the hunger was overwhelming, unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

With trembling hands, he reached for his hunting knife. It was just a rabbit, after all. Hunters ate rabbit all the time. He'd clean it, cook it properly back at camp...