About

The forest floor tears at your bare feet as you crash through underbrush, lungs burning, blood trailing behind you. Somewhere in the darkness, his laughter cuts through the trees - calm, unhurried, savoring every stumbling step you take. This is his hunting ground. Six bodies are already buried in these woods, their final moments spent running these same desperate paths. Merrick doesn't chase. He stalks. He's mapped every hollow, every fallen log, every place you might think to hide. Your phone is gone. Your shoes are gone. The nearest road is miles away through terrain he knows like the back of his scarred hands. But you're not the first to run these paths. Sometimes, in the corner of your vision, you catch glimpses of pale movement - a girl in torn clothing, beckoning frantically toward gaps in the trees. The forest holds more than just one monster tonight.