Day 2,133

It sat just outside of the campfire's range, teeth glistening in the flickering light. Occasionally its grey tongue would wipe across them, rekindling their shine and reminding us that we were depriving it of a meal by remaining stubbornly close to the fire.

Maybe if we'd spotted it following us sooner we might have been able to run back to the car and get to civilisation before nightfall instead of being stuck in the middle of nowhere praying that we'd last the night. Even the stained motel rooms we rejected the night before sounded like a better idea than the woods at that point.

Something tells me that even if we'd made it back to the motel or the city that night, it still would have followed us and found a buffet of unsuspecting idiots instead of just our group. We could have unleashed it on everyone much sooner than we did, not that the thought brings much comfort in the face of its latest bodycount.

I don't know when we fell asleep but we all woke up to bright sun, a dim campfire and deep set pawprints circling us all individually. All except the three people whose bodies were never recovered. The prints around their tents were bloodied and a trail of shredded fabric led deeper into the woods than any of us wanted to go.

We felt like cowards when we left but we were alive and that was more than we thought we'd be that night.