[ WP ] Every year during hunting season , deer convene in secret areas of the forest to avoid being shot by hunters . Deer `` criminals '' are then left to fend for themselves during this time , and you are one of those looking to survive .

Once, there was green everywhere. The world was wreathed in it. The air smelled of it, and the river reflected it. It is still, but if one looks hard enough, one can see that its edges are fraying and blurring grey and black and soot and bone. 
 
 *Was his crime so unforgivable. To leave the green and return smelling wrongly, dirt and grime clinging to his coat. Yes. They've come now, to bite and tear and burn -- because of him they've come. Dark and terrible. Misshapen and cruel as wolves. But wolves are few. They are many. * 
 
 The world sings still, but the song has changed. Only a little. There is an echo, as if it sounds through an empty chamber. 
 
 *Better to run than to squirrel away. No place is safe. Safe from the men that used to come with guns and dogs maybe. Not from them. Men can be hidden from. Dogs, reasoned with. From these. Things. Only running. * 
 

