The beast of Blackwald forest
It sneered, growled and sniffed in its hunt for the prey. The scent was fresh and strong, as it was the scent of a humanoid. The froth dripped from the creature's maw. Large, wolverine fangs gleamed in the darkness between the great trees. The humanoid had crossed the border gilneans no longer dared to cross: the forestline outside of Duskhaven. Its hunger grew as the scent grew more potent in the dirt, grass, trees and bushes. The prey was slow, it would be easy to feast upon its flesh. Food. Precious and warm meat. Silent paws with great claws gave easy grip in the slick dirt as it turned into a muddy puddle enclosing it. The black shadows would conceal the beast as it tracked its prey. Even if the rain would wash out some tracks the scent was always there. It sprinted onwards, aching for something to feast upon, with a fierce and determined gaze.
The rain kept pouring down. Thin branches accommodated great masses of water which sprinkled down from the smaller trees when Atelniar made his way between them. Blackwald forest was, like much of Gilneas, a land in eternal fog. Night or day, it was always shrouded with darkness. Stars would not be visible on the cloudy sky above his head. It was a eerie place for the night elf. He knew that the vast dark forest could only be Blackwald by now. Which meant that Gilneas city was not that far away, but first the druid had to escape the woods. He had no knowledge of Blackwald forest, other than the rumors which the Sentinels shared on the ship. That was before the storm wrecked large portions of the elven fleet, including the very ship he was on. When he woke up at the shore of Gilneas only splintered planks were to be seen around him, beneath the steep cliffs. Debris littered the coastline where he woke up, along with the fresh corpses of drowned elves, it had been such a dreadful sight.
If I could only find-, his thoughts fell asunder as a frightening howl sent chills down the elf's spine. He had heard wolves before, in many places, but none ever sounded quite so eerie. It was a dark and ominous sound, one which drove fear into the very bones of his being. The elf clawed at the bark on a tree, trying to keep his hand from trembling. It was close. Complete silence replaced the sound in its wake. Only the constant downpour of rain could be heard. There were no crows and no critters. Nothing at all. The forest rustled its branches in a sudden tug of the wind, as if it challenged its inhabitants. Atelniar had never seen a forest so malign before, even his own eyes struggled with making out the contours of far away objects, what seemed like a modest hillside was a mudslide to be with a single flawed step. His hands gripped into slick straws of grass to not slide back down the hill while his feet sank into the moist soil. An unsightly effort that made the elf grit his teeth. Dark mud-stains drenched his feet before he was halfway up the hill. His hands were no better, making it hard to cling on as the hill became steeper. Nonetheless, climbing the hill was a certain shortcut, even if it meant getting a little filthy on his hands. He had seen worse stains than that of moist earth on his hands the last few years.
With a final grunt the elf gripped the top of the hill and hoisted himself up with the strength of his own arms, only to freeze completely before he was all the way up. A low, supressed growl demanded his attention and before him stood a dark figure on all four. Canine teeth flaring a rather effortless threat mere inches away from Atelniar's face. The elf swallowed a lump of anxiety down as his eyes met the creature's own gaze. A cold and murderous stare which was fixated on him. The elf did not dare to blink while the beast bared its horrid teeth at him, the jaw opening as it hunched backwards on its hind legs and leaped at his throat. He ducked and rolled down the hill. The creature slipped despite its great claws, as it gave chase after the elf. Atelniar's vision was a blur, but he could hear the angry hisses and constant breathing of the wolf-like beast not too far behind his back. Its claws gripped at his leg, the druid kicked randomly with his other foot. It struck the creature's skull with enough force to push them both in different directions. The last he saw of the beast was a large tumbling mass of dark fur, which disappeared into a thicket, before his own body slammed into a tree-trunk with full force. The air was knocked out of his lungs and both eyes stirred a little, before he was able to regain his own focus. His head spun about wildly.
Atelniar clasped onto the tree-trunk which stopped his fall. He could hear the creature trash around, branches snapping in the thicket not too far away from him, as it tried to get loose. He began to run. Desperately fleeing through the forest on his light feet. Nimble and swift, he skipped from fallen logs and onto slippery rocks. It was a large creature, even for a beast. There had been stories about such wolf-like beings in Kalimdor as well, but he hoped he was wrong. Panic struck his ancient heart as the distance between the trees shrank and a thick silence filled the air. The sun had set fully, and twilight was no more.