The sound of snorting. Snuff, sniffle, snuff. Rummaging in the darkness. Shuffle, crunch, shuffle. Moonlight grasps through the trees, It's silver beams acting as searchlights as it tries in vain to find the tan hide of the creature, finding no luck at spotting the camouflaged beast. In her wake, she leaves only a trail of shattered leaves and the sound of her ragged breath against the cold december air. Skidding to a halt, she finds herself in a small clearing, the moon's eye glaring down at her sorry form. Teeth as sharp as broken bottles gnash and glisten in fury at the glowing orb. She howls violently, as if being tortured, as she loses what is left of her grip on reality as her hands mutate grotesquely into large, rather canine paws. Now, bathed in the light of the full moon, the beast has been unleashed.
