You trudged through a dark forest, tall douglas-firs blocking the overcast sky. Snowflakes fell heavily from stormy clouds, with no ending in sight. The cold, whistling wind slammed against your back, forcing you to keep moving. With every step you took, your leather snow boots crunched against ice and mud. Besides this, the forest was quiet and serene.
Perhaps, a little too much so.
You let out a heavy sigh. This harsh winter storm was unprecedented, but expecting the unexpected was an unspoken requirement of a hitchhiker. You had trained yourself well; your mother proudly told everyone you were a survivalist. A small setback wouldn’t stop you from reaching your destination by the end of the week.
And even if you didn’t, so what? Adventure was a part of the thrill. It had infected you years ago, like a slow-moving disease, encasing every fiber of your soul. You would always seek it out, no matter what the cost.
After all, that’s how you ended up here.
It was almost eleven. A yawn tugged at the corners of your mouth, reminding you of your fatigue. Setting up camp would be the next top priority. Marching through the night would only exhaust you further.
As you trudged forward, the soft noises of a creek wandered toward your ears.
Excited, you quickened your pace.
Staying near water was the best option, giving you all the resources you would need to survive the night. When the weather was at its worst, nature would always provide you with an exit route. Your goal was simply to find it.
It ran further than your eyes could see, stretching past the forest. A few snow-covered trees stood alongside it, but there was plenty of uncovered space, perfect for a makeshift camp ground. The snow around it would need to be flattened to allow for a tent, but that was a quick task. Excitement bubbled in your stomach; this was perfect.
The soft chittering of woodland creatures ceased as you moved closer. It was smart, for them at least. Maybe if you caught one, you could have rabbit for dinner instead of grainy granola bars.
Strapped to you was a long brown camping bag, hand-crafted for the harshest of winters. It stretched from your head to your lower back, containing all your essential equipment. Its soft exterior and rustic smell reminded you of home, along with the mother who made it.
The thought caused a wave of longing to crash over you. Homesickness was a leech, sucking the spirit out of a wanderer until all they could do was retreat. At times like these, your bag served as a reminder of what waited at the end. Travelling without it would be madness.
“I’ll be home soon,” you thought to yourself.
A plan hatching in your mind, you slowly removed your backpack, placing it on the snowy ground. An ache was beginning to form in your fingers, reminding you of your next task.
Hunching over, you reached into your bag, taking out supplies for a fire. You had been prepared enough to store several dry pieces of kindling. A good traveller could anticipate anything, regardless of the weather reports. Your mother would’ve been appalled if you had made such a critical error, especially in the deep forest.
Collecting the rocks around you, you parted a patch of snow to make way for your materials. Sitting them on the wet dirt, you slowly formed a small fire pit. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do the trick.
You smiled softly to yourself. Day three of this expedition had gone without issue, minus the rather dreadful weather. It wasn’t enough to keep you at bay. You were going to make it home, no matter what.
As you began lighting the fire, your mind wandered towards the next steps. Securing your tent and collecting water to purify would be the best choices to make. After that—
Instantly, the simple tasks ahead were meaningless. The forest had lost its sense of tranquility; death lay thick in the air. The noise of the creek was no longer a welcoming hum, but a distraction to keep your senses away from whatever lied beyond.
Your hands began to shake, sweat beading on your forehead. You had never heard a roar like that in your life, but you knew one thing for certain. This wasn’t any kind of animal you’d encountered before. It chilled you to the bone. You had met creatures twice your size, but you’d always known exactly what you faced. It had never been a nameless terror, hiding in the shadows, waiting.
Move. You needed to move.
The thought snapped you back to reality. Your fire was burning bright, a perfect beacon for anything that wanted to find prey.
You stomped your feet against the fire, extinguishing it quickly. You needed to go somewhere, anywhere else. Whatever that thing was, you were confident it could tear you limb from limb.
Now wasn’t the time to panic. That was what would get you killed, or worse. You had handled all kinds of animals before, this one wouldn’t be any different.
Discreetly cleaning your area, you grabbed your pistol from out of your backpack, along with several bullets. You had brought it along for emergencies only—your hunting knife was typically enough—but this certainly counted. You began moving quickly, putting as much space between yourself and the animal as possible.
Heart pounding, your mind scrambled to put together a coherent plan. If the distance wasn’t enough, you would need to create a new solution. How far had the animal travelled in the time it had taken to clean? The thought made your skin crawl. If it was fast, and it certainly could be, the possibility of it catching up was worth considering. Your gun was powerful, but was it enough?
Scrambling through the forest, you were beginning to wish you hadn’t made this journey. There were simpler ways you could have gone about this, taken a plane or train. Instead, you wanted to show your skills, make her proud—
Its blood red eyes burrowed into yours, as if to peer deep inside you. Its body was skeletal, forming a human shape with claw-like hands and feet to establish a distinct difference. On top, it bore crooked antlers that stretched haphazardly towards the sky. Blood and saliva ran down its mouth, while chunks of flesh stuck to various parts of its form. The overwhelming odor of rotting skin caused your stomach to clench.
What is that?
Body trembling, you stood unmoving, fearing what would happen if you did. How quickly could this monster tear you to pieces?
It growled loudly, causing you to fall backward in terror. Flailing, you pushed backward into a tree, raising your gun towards the monster. It screamed and lunged, its claws and teeth bared.
The monster lay just inches away from you, a claw resting beside your left leg. Blood streamed from the bullet wounds, creating a large pool. One of its horns scratched your cheek, while the others rested against the tree. It’s body twitched for several minutes before laying still, eyes cold.
Hyperventilating, you crawled away from it, fearing it would rise. You had used all your bullets shooting at it, leaving you defenseless. There was no other strategy now but to run, if it came back.
What was it? What kind of creature looks like that?
You needed to run, but found yourself frozen in disbelief. Should you take some sort of evidence with you? It certainly wasn’t a classified species. Stomach beginning to churn, you turned over to vomit. You gripped the dirt underneath your hands as you heaved, the encounter replaying in your mind. Despite its death, the sense of urgency refused to leave, not with so many possiblities. What if there was more?
One thing was for certain: you needed to get home as soon as possible.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you quickly formed a plan in your mind. It was far into the night; you would need a place to rest. Following the river would be the best option. Anything was better than being near this thing.
Wobbly, you stood, one hand still gripping your pistol. Taking a shuddering breath, you took a step forward. Slowly, you advanced, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and the corpse.
The forest was quiet again.
Listening for the sounds of the creek, you pushed yourself forward.
Your eyes darted in every direction, looking for any potential threats. If there were more, they could arrive at any moment. Perhaps using the pistol was too rash.
Tripping on uneven ground, you fell to the dirt, your hands catching the fall. Letting out several harsh coughs, your eyes widened when spots of blood stained your clothing. Before you could gather your thoughts, your throat tightened, forcing you into a coughing fit.
Something was wrong.
Your bones began to ache, their strength seeping out of you. Your breathing was laboring, despite having been fine mere minutes before.
Gasping for air, you outstretched your hands, desperately looking for a savior. Saliva dripped from your gaping mouth, with two small drool lines turning into foam. Your legs writhed on the snowy ground, hoping to escape this nightmare. Your passion was gone; the determination you once carried had faded once that thing had appeared. What had it done to you?
Even though it was dead, you felt as though its presence lingered over you, taunting your sickly body. Consciousness fading, your grip on the earth loosened as your eyes closed.
It was no longer night. The daylight flooded your senses, causing you to bury your head in the dirt.
Your arms were still outstretched, soreness spreading through your muscles. Your throat was dry, while blood and saliva clung to your cheeks.
Trying to regain your thoughts, you sat up shakily. Your head pounded, leaving you with little room for thinking. Despite the leaves in your hair and an unsettled feeling in your stomach, you were unscathed.
Looking around wearily, you attempted to collect your thoughts. Where were you to go from here? How long had you been asleep? Who knew how far off track you had become. It would take several more days to reach home.
Yet, these questions disappeared as quickly as they had revealed themselves. Why did you need to go home anyway? You loved the forest. The trees filled you with contentment; the snow was a soft blanket you could not resist. There was nothing beyond that could make you feel this way.
Smiling softly, you crawled through the snow. You didn’t notice the way your breathing labored or the blood that was still oozing from your mouth. Instead, you focused on the growing sensation of hunger that festered inside. You needed to satisfy this as soon as possible.
The forest welcomed you as you moved, searching eagerly for a meal.