They shouldn't have run.

There are three of them, Sam, Lila and Paul—young travellers with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and yet, everything to lose. Their visit to Iceland has invigorated their senses...until the carnival. There, a single punch is thrown. A man lies dead on the ground. Blood speckles Sam's bruised knuckles. In a blind panic, they flee the scene and disappear down an unpaved road, winding through the barren landscape. Soon they find an empty cabin, the perfect place to hide until they figure out what to do. Dead is dead; wrong is wrong—this cruel truth is etched into their minds as though carved with a rusted blade.

Twilight turns to night. All is still. It is then that the travellers realize they are not alone. Something is lurking out there. In the dark. They can hear its growls. And to the creature, the guilty and the innocent taste exactly the same.