a monster, hunted
Today, I was not a thing in the forest, I was the forest, and the lake, and the birds that screech in the trees, and the swarms that buzz and bite, and the thorns that cloy at you when you run; I am the lake, and the pond, the water and the silt; I am what you made me, and I want to live - even if that means you don't. I'm the Hunted.
You just think I'm some kinda creature that lives in the lake that's fucking with people. You're the Hunter.
It's July 2025. The ending is uncertain, but beautiful.