It gets darker at night. But when the sun is gone, the predators are around and the jungle is scarier than ever. The jungle demands sacrifice; the jungle has no empathy; the jungle plays you like a puppet.
It gets bloodier as the years pass by. And the food chain churns and spits out all who fell behind. And just when you were sure you wanted to leave, the jungle would conjure up an oasis; short lived but enough to let you prod on for a few more hours.
It gets lonely as you grow old. The pack you grew up with falls apart, the new wolves no longer are your brothers, the world belongs to the alpha male who wins; only for a short while though before his heart gets torn out in a battle. The battle scars are marks of a fake glory to a fake deity.
It gets godless every passing moment. There is a restlessness, not for the presence of evil but because in the jungle, the old gods have left leaving behind a void like no other. And in the godless darkness there are no rules.
It gets restless as time passes by. The world needs to be violent to sustain, a mind numbing posturing is what seems to do the trick for the day and there no longer remains any space for the wide eyed doe. She has to run, run like the wind all day just to survive, till the day evolution gives her fangs.
The jungle waits, quiet and calculating, waiting for the next games to begin.