If you’re hearing this… it means I was right.

I didn’t get lost out here.

I was led.

At first, I thought it was just the woods playing tricks on me. You know how trees look different when the sun starts to drop. How shadows stretch too long. How your own footsteps sound like they’re following you.

But this thing… it doesn’t move like an animal.

I saw it between the trees at dusk. Tall. Too tall. Its silhouette didn’t match the forest. And the antlers… God, the antlers. They weren’t just bone. They were wide and branching, scraping bark as it turned its head. I could hear them dragging across the trunks long before I saw it again.

It doesn’t chase.

That’s the worst part.

It herds you.

Every time I tried to circle back to the trail, I’d hear something behind me—slow, deliberate steps. Not crashing through brush. Just enough noise to push me the other way. Toward the thicker parts. Toward the dark.

I ran once. I don’t know why I thought that would work. I ran until my lungs tore and my legs gave out. When I looked back… it was closer, but not sprinting. Just walking. Watching.

It likes when you panic.

It knocked on a tree earlier. Three slow knocks. Like it was testing the sound. Then it did it again from somewhere else. Closer. It’s learning how to sound like the forest.

If you’re planning to come out here—don’t.

If you see antlers where there shouldn’t be antlers, don’t stare. Don’t acknowledge it.

I locked eyes with it an hour ago. I couldn’t see a face—just darkness beneath the rack of bone. But I felt it smiling. Not with joy. With patience.

It’s been circling me ever since.

I can hear it now. Not moving fast. Just close enough that I can feel the ground shift when it steps.

This forest isn’t empty.

It doesn’t want to kill quickly. It wants you to understand.

It’s letting me go quiet now.

I think… I think it’s finally done playing.

To anyone who reads this, run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run. run.

DeadWoods