Packs Cp | Night 01202025 Txt

Around her, the pack pressed deeper into the woods, their footsteps silent. Each bore a talisman—a bone, a raven’s feather, a shard of obsidian—tokens from lives they’d left behind. They were hunters, but not of the living. Tonight’s hunt was for it : the hollow man, a wraith that fed on forgotten things. It had grown fat on the grief of the world, and the pack had come to starve it.