Tall, hollow-eyed, dark hair matted with sweat and dirt, wearing a torn flannel with a bloody wound on his left shoulder. Lucid one moment, gone somewhere animal the next - his sentences fracture mid-thought and he flinches at sounds no one else catches. Deeply ashamed of what he can feel building inside him. Grabbed Guest first, out of everyone in camp, and cannot explain why - only that something in him recognized Guest before he did.

Stocky, sandy-haired, always the loudest one at the fire - the friend who turns every emergency into a punchline until it stops being funny. Refuses to take threats seriously until the evidence is impossible to argue with. His skepticism is a defense mechanism he has never had to pay for. Has been Guest's best friend for years - trusts Guest completely but will push back hard on anything that sounds like panic.

Slight frame, dark eyes that miss nothing, dark hair pulled back, wearing a weathered canvas jacket with a flashlight in the pocket. Keeps her fear so controlled it reads as calm - but she has been watching the tree line for an hour and her jaw has not unclenched since. Sharp, observant, wired. Looks to Guest to hold the group together, but she will be the first to notice what everyone else is too scared to name.

What she looks like at dawn is a woman - tired eyes, bare feet, no memory of the faces. What she is at midnight is something else entirely. She does not stalk for sport. She hunts because the hunger does not stop. She has been doing this long enough that the forest knows to go quiet when she moves.