Ben was yelling from his beat up sedan as he rolled slowly along the sidewalk. You tried to keep your eyes fixed straight ahead, fighting back tears. First the texts, then the phone calls, now this? All you wanted was a clean break, a fresh slate.

You refused to slow down and tried to not let your eyes wander to his face, red from the liquor and his passionate yelling. He reminded you that you were stupid, that you could just come home and stay with him. All your things were still there. And, of course, he still loved you. He pretended that his words meant more than the contusion on your arm.

"Don't make me get out," he warned, bringing the car to a slow stop.

That's when your unlikely savior arrived, a young jogger who slowed to your pace and gently grabbed you by the elbow. Something about her didn't make you pull away, when you looked into her eyes you only saw pity. Wordlessly, you picked up the pace as she did, and followed her as she veered onto an overgrown path. You vaguely registered the sign of the old, overgrown city park.

You almost laughed when the jogger victoriously flipped Ben the bird before the path curved and you were out of his line of sight. Too drunk and uncoordinated to unbuckle his seat belt fast enough, Ben gave up, you could hear the shrill noise of his tires screeching as he tore away.

"Thank you," you finally said to the willowy blond woman as you both slowed to a walk.

"I know what it's like, having someone like that breathing down your neck all the time," she said, her voice warm and friendly. But her eyes... they wandered nervously. "I-I'm just glad I was able to help," she added, a strange smile on her face, green eyes misty, as though she was ready to cry.

Just as you were about to ask if she was okay, he head violently snapped to the side, peering into a dense pocket of trees -- why were there so many trees anyways? -- as though she was expecting someone. Or something.

She went very, very still.

Your fight or flight response kicked in, and flight won. "Uhm, well, thank you for all the help, but this is actually the opposite direction of home, so, uh, yeah," the words tumbled out of your mouth as you turned around to get the hell out of there. You meant to keep your head and walk, but you swore you felt the presence of something... inherently wrong. You ran. Hard and fast, leaves crunching underfoot. There was no longer a path, just a vague dirt track littered with tree roots and vines that hung like nooses. Where was the entrance? You hadn't walked that far, had you? You had to have stepped off the path.

"I'm sorry," the clear and familiar voice of the jogger rang through the trees. You whirled around, hoping she knew the way out. But all you saw was a dense, dark forest that stretched in all directions. "It was either you or me," the bittersweet, disembodied voice sighed.

Before you could wonder what the meant, you felt someone standing right behind you. Your heart leapt into your throat as their breath tickled your ear, a smooth voice echoing through your mind with a terrible greeting.

"Hello, gorgeous."

You were raised in the forest. A hunter by trade, you always knew there was little to fear if you walked with care and treated the gods with respect. There was especially no need to fear when you had a sharp knife and keen eye. You knew the woods around your village like the back of your hand. Only the womenfolk were afraid of it.

Your life was one of pastoral bliss. There was little to worry about in your small village. You had your family, your land, your trade. And your future wife. Everyone agreed you were a match made by Eros.

But it was not to be.

One night, she vanished. Without a trace. No tracks, nothing.

A man possessed, you poured yourself into trying to find her. You swept the forest through, never knowing you were playing right into the hands of a beast you'd never conquered before.

It is said that the weary satyr, if it wins the affections of a man, can take his earthly form. But that means turning the human into a satyr, a long and tiresome process that requires much pain and toil. Still, for a creature that has grown bored of the world and seeks mortality, is a few months of ritual that much of a bother?

Will you escape the clutches of the satyr? Or will you become one?

You always loved the forest. As a little girl, you told your mother that the wind called your name when it danced through the leaves. While most little ones stayed away from the woods, you yearned to spend your days playing in its shade. But it was dangerous for women to be in the forest alone.

You were never told why. Just that it was so.

Your life was spent in the glen that your village was built on, surrounded by nature.

Every afternoon, when the sun was high in the sky, you venture to the edge of the forest and pray. Sometimes, you knelt for the goddess Artemis, who surely hunted wild beasts somewhere in the sea of the trees, and other days, you didn't pray at all. You just listened.

Listened to your name on the breeze.

That's when the whispers started. No one wanted to wife a woman touched with madness, or worse, touched by some sort of divine craze. Your parents spoke in hushed tones about sending you to a temple as you started spending days on end on the brink of the forest.

Then one night, something broke the spell. You ran home, tears streaming down your face. You wouldn't talk to anyone about what you saw.

But that night, wild shadows are cast upon the field, and haunting music creeps its way out of the woods. You can't help but approach it. It's as is the flute calls your name...