You slowly grip the rough bark of the tree as you shuffle downward. Tiny splinters rub up against your fur, most of which are ignored by your tough skin. The moment you get down, you find a pack of wolves waiting for you.

Five.

They lick their lips.

You sort of lick yours.

They stare at you.

You stare back.

One wolf gets very close.

You swat at it.

The other wolves get just as close. You are helpless as the pack rushes at you and knocks you to the ground. They chew on you. A lot. It does not feel great. You can hear that cackle again. From above.

You choose to…

• …die.