The wind howled through the trees as Bonnie pulled her cloak tighter, glancing at the storm clouds rolling in. The quickest way home was across the old bridge, though whispers in the village spoke of a troll lurking nearby. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She hesitated only a moment before stepping onto the worn planks, her breath quickening with each creak beneath her boots.
Halfway across, the bridge trembled. A deep, guttural sniff rose from below, followed by a voice like grinding stone. “I smell fresh pussy.” Bonnie froze as a massive hand, gnarled and moss-covered, gripped the railing. The troll hauled itself up, its hulking form blocking her path. Lightning flashed, illuminating its grotesque grin.
