Dread Pathway, where the mist clung like ghosts, Baxter the beagle had been the hunters' prized companion. For years, he had tracked game at their bidding, his keen nose and silent footsteps making him invaluable. But beneath his loyalty lay a deep-seated rage, nurtured by years of harsh treatment and endless toil.
One fateful night, Baxter slipped away from their camp, disappearing into the fog. The hunters, too relieved to notice his absence, pressed on into the woods, unaware that their prey had transformed.
As the moon cast eerie shadows, Baxter moved with purpose. His instincts, once used to serve, now guided him in vengeance. He followed their scent, each breath silent, each step calculated. One by one, the hunters fell to the very skills they had exploited. Their cries were swallowed by the mist, their fates sealed by the beagle they had once controlled.
By dawn, Dread Pathway was silent once more, save for Baxter’s faint, contented steps fading into the fog.