(Author's POV)
Anna followed Oliver into the haunted house. The area was shrouded in darkness, the eerie silence enveloped them. It was broken only by the distant howls of wolves. In the distance, they saw the flickering lanterns casting long, twisted shadows on the ground. The path led to an opening with gnarled trees, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands.
Anna couldn't help but be impressed with the way it had been developed. She caught up to Oliver and tried to hold his hand. The dense fog swirled around their feet, obscuring the uneven ground and adding to the feeling of disorientation.
“Let go, Anna,” he yelled in frustration as the air was cold and damp, carrying the scent of decay and something else, something primal.
Suddenly the rogue werewolves appeared.
