The Hunter's Instinct
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Fortifying the Cabin
Brian sat on his porch, staring into the fire. Something had changed. Not just the forest—him.
The night before, he had fought something wrong. A deer that shouldn't have been standing. A body that had tried to move even after being torn apart.
It wasn't just infected. It was evolving.
And so was he.
His hunger had been ravenous. He ate twice what he normally did, yet still felt hollow. His breath was deeper. His muscles felt heavier. His vision sharper.
Even now, in the still of the night, he could hear the forest in ways he never had before.
Ghost was changing too. He moved quieter, his posture lower, his eyes tracking things in the dark that Brian couldn't see.
The mountain was no longer just home.
It was his territory.
And it needed to be defended.
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Syringe Traps & New Defenses
The wooden spike fence was solid—built to stop bears, wolves, and scavengers.
But what about something that didn't feel pain?
Something that kept coming even after being riddled with bullets?
Brian needed something more.
✔ Syringe Traps
He crafted sharpened wooden stakes—thick, strong, nearly unbreakable.
Drilled into them to insert glass syringes filled with toxins.
Used a mix of poisons, acids, and anything corrosive from his medical kit.
Placed them at entry points, hidden beneath leaves and loose soil.
Anything that stepped on them would shatter the glass, injecting the toxin into the wound.
✔ Tripwires & Barbed Hooks
Thin steel wire, strung ankle-high around the perimeter.
Barbed fishing hooks woven into the lines, designed to tear into flesh.
✔ Kill Tunnels
Narrow pathways made of sharpened branches, forcing anything approaching into a bottleneck.
Only one way forward. No way to turn back.
✔ Fire Traps
Molotov bottles hung from ropes in the trees.
Tripwires attached—anything that triggered them would be doused in fire.
This wasn't just about protection.
It was about killing anything that tried to step onto his land.
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Hunting the Infection
The next morning, Brian packed his rifle, machete, and hunting pack.
Ghost followed at his heels.
✔ Destination: The second impact site, deeper in the forest.
✔ Movement: Slow, controlled, silent.
✔ Ghost: Moving differently, his stance lower, more predator-like.
Brian felt it in his bones.
They weren't just exploring.
They were hunting.
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The Forest is Changing
The further they walked, the more alien the landscape became.
✔ The trees had black veins, pulsing like infected wounds.
✔ The ground was softer, spongier, almost like rotting flesh.
✔ Strange fungi grew along the rocks, bulging, oozing something dark.
✔ The air felt thick, charged, like a storm was constantly overhead.
Ghost stiffened.
Brian followed his gaze—and froze.
A second meteor.
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The Second Impact Site
The crater was smaller, but the damage was worse.
✔ Black rock, still smoldering.
✔ The surrounding trees twisted unnaturally.
✔ A smell—thick, metallic, sour.
And then he saw the deer.
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The Thing That Wouldn't Die
It was the same one. The same bullet-ridden, broken deer he had killed yesterday.
But it was standing. Again.
And it had changed.
✔ New flesh had grown over its wounds—but it was wrong, dark, lumpy.
✔ Its limbs were longer, its joints unnatural.
✔ The black veins pulsed beneath its skin.
Ghost growled.
Brian raised his rifle.
The deer opened its mouth—
And screamed.
Not an animal cry.
Something wet, something broken.
Brian fired.
The bullet punched through its skull.
It didn't fall.
It charged.
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The Primal Kill
Ghost lunged first, his teeth tearing into the creature's side.
Brian threw his rifle aside, drawing his machete.
The deer rammed into him, its strength unnatural.
He rolled with the impact, pivoted, and slashed.
The blade sank deep into its throat.
Black fluid sprayed across his arm.
The smell was wrong. Rotten. Chemical. Alive.
The deer kicked, convulsing—but didn't stop.
Brian didn't hesitate.
He raised the machete—
And brought it down.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until the thing was nothing but twitching, mangled pieces.
His breathing was heavy. His pulse deep, steady.
But he didn't feel fear.
He felt satisfaction.
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The Awakening
Brian burned the remains.
Ghost sat beside him, silent, watching the flames.
✔ His senses were still heightened.
✔ His hunger hadn't faded.
✔ His territorial instincts had sharpened.
He felt calm. Cold. Aware.
And the worst part?
✔ He was starting to like it.
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