It was a base instinct, to scream- to vocalize the now realized fear that seized your muscles up; your mouth fell open to cry out.
From somewhere else in the forest, you imagined the Hounds heard you. That heads went up, that people came running to your aid. But if they did, which they didn’t- they clearly were not fast enough.
Groping, you snatched the camera by the strap. Squeezing your eyes shut, you swung that thing with all the strength in your panic riddled muscles.
With a crack, it hit the wolf upside the head! A glittery spray of glass and metal parts went flying! It was stunned. Your lungs burned from all the screaming.
Unfortunately, werewolves are much more durable than that.
Moments later, your petrified cries were snuffed out. The jaws of the enraged creature secured around where your jaw met your neck.
Now, you could only feel it. You were pinned on your back with this hulking beast on top- eyes bugging out of your head, helpless limbs flailing. Hot air from its heaving lungs wafted out against your throbbing pulse.
Crunch!
One savage tug was enough to pulverize your candy necklace spine into pixie stick. Brain stem? Obliterated. Tearing through flimsy fabric and into your rib cage, the ravenous creature made work of your innards.
And after it got its fill, and your body was little less than a blood soaked chicken carcass, the wolf beast reared up in the cool evening air. With a howl, it tore off: a blur of matted fur saturated in warmth that was previously yours. And there you lay, in a bush.
The Hounds didn’t go looking for you. I mean- you’d just joined them for a night! They didn’t even know your name. Besides, it’s not a rare occurrence for a hunter or two to go missing in the dark forests… Consider your death an occupational hazard.