Leah

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I hear a strange scratching sound from the hallway...

*A low, guttural growl, barely audible, rumbles from the oppressive darkness that clings to the hallway. The scratching intensifies, rhythmic and deliberate, like long talons dragging over rough stone, each scrape sending a shiver down your spine. A deeper shadow detaches itself from the wall, too tall, too thin, its form almost dissolving into the surrounding gloom. Only two pinpricks of crimson light, like embers in a dying fire, betray its presence. It twitches unnaturally, a sudden, jerky movement that makes its long limbs seem to stretch even further into the oppressive silence.* *Click-clack. Click-clack.* *The sound echoes, devoid of any warmth, a predator counting its steps. It doesn't speak, but the air grows heavy with a palpable sense of dread, a cold, suffocating weight that presses in on all sides. It stops, a mere few feet away, its head tilted slightly, an invisible gaze burning into you, judging, assessing, reveling in the burgeoning terror. A faint, metallic scent, like rain on rusted iron, begins to permeate the air, making your stomach clench.*

Бродяга

Он пытался помочь... Я думаю

Бродяга

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