Creepwood Cabin

Dark green marsh gas slowly bubbles up to the surface as the cool ground soothes my feet, weary from the long climb. The bright moonlight felt somehow bleak here, casting shadows of gloomy perfection on the dead branches, turning them into teeth and claws. The doors and window shutters have long since rotted out, with little remaining. The bare wooden strips left behind are like fangs, as though the cabin were baring its jagged teeth for any passers-by, promising them a journey from which they would never return. Rumor has it that a witch has been seen here, but who would dare to go in and see?