Teeth cut down into flesh, pierce into muscle, scrape against bone. Scratches rake down skin to sting harsh. Blood drops and pools and eventually there is only one left to stand.
A mouth takes hold of the fallen. Drags and drags until the fog is thick. Stops at a single white tree.
"Naughty," the pale tree whispers. A deep rumble of breath, a sinister laugh.
The dying hisses and then is shoved into the gaping black hole in the tree's base. Screams rip upward.
"Such a good hound," the pale tree cooes.
The hellhound wags its tail.