While the Fox Tribe were fleeing for their lives, a dark figure arrived at their abandoned tribe.
The old witch doctor stepped into the village square, his face twisting with a look of pure, ugly shock.
He looked around at the silent treehouses and the cold fire pits. He threw his wooden staff onto the ground in a fit of rage.
"Empty?" he screamed at the wind. "How can it be empty?!"
Behind him, the forest was screaming.
A massive horde of death was approaching...the beast tide.
Thousands of evil, ferocious beasts were surging forward, their eyes glowing a deep, bloody red.
Their jaws were wide open, dripping with thick, hungry saliva. They were mad with a hunger that could never be satisfied, and they were only minutes away.
The witch doctor had worked so hard for this.
He had guided the beasts directly here so they wouldn't waste time wandering. He wanted to watch the Fox Tribe be torn to pieces.
"How did they know?" he hissed, his chest heaving.
