Snaaaap!
A weak twig breaks beneath his foot. The forest around him is dense and dark. The trees themselves seem to morph into monsterous forms in the night time shadows. Their branches twist and tangle together into massive clups of brown leaves that block out his view of the moon. He knows it's full though. After all, he saw it less than an hour ago. When he was running. When he was with her. His mother, he misses her. In this moment, he wants her now more then ever. He's lost and scared, the sounds of the troubled camp are echoing through the woods. He can hear the shouting of orders, men and women yelling for others to fight, shoot, and sometimes run. He can also hear screams. Gut wrenching, horrible screams that seem to never stop. Exhaustion begins to take over as he slides down against a tree. He hugs his knees and hides his face in the fold of his arms. The sounds continue in that not so distant clearing. That beautiful area that his father's friend had picked. Where the grass was relatively short and flowers bloomed like colorful blankets across the ground. The girls and women praised that feature and talked about how wonderful this location was. Little did they know that this stop would turn into a nightmare.
The growls were the first thing he heard. Followed by his mother's voice, "Jason! Wake up!"
Her voice trembled as she repeated those words. As his vision adjusted, he could see the genuine terror in her eyes. She also had a nervous habit of adjusting her baseball cap. Even if it was perfectly fine. She says her Dad used to do it too. Perhaps it runs in the family. Her movements became frantic once he was up. She roughly grabbed a backpack and began stuffing various items from the tent inside. These included a map, some bandages, and even a few candy bars. Then with that same tremble she said, "let's go."
"Where are we going?" He had said, his voice groggy from sleep.
"The road," she said, a new grimness to her tone, "your father said to go to the road and that he'll meet us there."
"But why?" Confusion set in fast for he has no context aside from the strange sounds outside. Some of which were now voices and hurried footsteps. There was an old lantern outside on a table. It's warm yellow light casted the shadows of various people as they moved passed their tent. He recognizes the voices, some of which he's known his whole life.
"The camp is under attack," her tone is slightly inpatient, "by werewolves."
Something in him didn't react well to that. He began to feel sick to his stomach and a growing singe of dread had made its way into his mind. He knew werewolves weren't real and that the creatures his mother was referring to weren't actually werewolves either. It was just a term, a name for something very similar. Something that he remembers hearing about often, but never actually seen. There would be hunting trips over the years. A lot of hunting trips. They did have to eat after all. They had people for that, special people. Duncan's people. Duncan is one of the leaders of the camp. The other is supposed to be his father, but Duncan doesn't listen to John that well. The two have gotten into arguments a lot over what's best for the people. He imagines they'll probably fight again when this is all over with. In any case, Duncan has the strong ones. The men and women who have experience and can "handle themselves."
They'd go on those hunting trips and bring back various animals of all sizes. Deers, rabbits, sometimes dogs. He never liked dog, it didn't taste good and killing dogs didn't set right with him either. The deer was okay, but the best was bird. Sometimes they'd come back with ten or fifteen birds tied in a bundle. Their catch would then be divided up, prepared, and cooked for everyone there. As good as food was, there was always something even better they brought back. That thing was stories. Some were undoubtedly true and others were obviously made up to entertain the kids. It was obvious which was which by the tone of voice. There's one thing that they never told the kids though and deliberately kept from them. That was the dangers of the forest. Sure they might find a pack of wolves or even a bear and have to heroically get by without being attacked. That was child's play though. The real threat lied in a species of creature that rode on the very edge of the supernatural.
The most detailed account of one was from a man named Isaac Cortez. He had spent most of his life on the road and had traveled to America from Mexico. His family died in a freak fire accident when he was only ten years old. Isaac joined the camp back in Arizona. They hadn't planned to stop there, in fact Duncan wanted to ride right on through. The horses had different plans though and got tired fast. So it was decided they'd make camp near a town. Isaac was staying in an abandoned drug store when two of Duncan's men found him. Since then, he's proved himself to be a very valuable member of the group. Which is one reason his story was respected and believed.
The story begins on an ill fated hunting trip he agreed to go on with two others. Their names were Kiley and Miles. They were a couple and that fact was pretty well known by all in the camp. So, Isaac was a bit of a third wheel. The trip started off good, they caught some rabbits and even a couple squirrels. Things began to take a turn for the worse when Kiley and Miles snuck off and left Isaac alone by a creek bed. He wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what they were doing. He let them leave though. After all, everybody deserves a break no and again. Plus, he was fishing and appreciated the peaceful silence. He had already caught one fish, and was hoping for about five more. It didn't look like he was gonna get them though. Nothing was biting, either that or the fish were all asleep. The thought made him chuckle. His smile quickly faded though upon hearing a strange noise. He looked up from the water and scanned the area. Calling out for the other two, but recieving no answer. The woods had become eerily silent and still. Almost like he was inside of a painting. He couldn't explain what the sound was, only that it was nearby and loud. He listened for it again, but instead heard the crunching of leaves on his left. Turning his head, Isaac locked eyes with a strange sight. It looked like a wolf but the fur was coal black and matted in places. It was also much larger than a typical wolf. It seemed unbothered by his presence as it walked up to the water. He watched its every move, staying very cautious. He couldn't seem to look away, especially not from those eyes. The beast had soft red eyes that seemed to glow in the shadow of the tree. They almost seemed human in a weird way. It drank from the creek in swift gulps before looking back up at him. It's head tilted and Isaac got a strange familiar feeling. It was as if he was being sized up by another man. A man who wanted to fight, but didn't want to start it.
Trouble came when Miles and Kiley returned. They froze a few feet away and Kiley immediately shouted, "What the hell?"
"It's one if those wolf things," Miles added, his bow already drawn with an arrow pointed at the creature.
The sparatic acts excited the wolf and it began to stiffen and growl. Its eyes lost their softeness and became sharp. It's teeth bared and Isaac could tell it was ready to pounce. Miles released the string and the arrow flew directly into the creature's shoulder. A loud whimper echoed through the forest. It didn't do much though and the beast became enraged. With a single bound, it leaped over the creek and attacked Miles. His bow slide across the grass and the arrows in his quiver rolled about like pencils on an unlevel desk. Kyile shouted his name and pulled a small pistol from a holster on her side.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Three shots, each one more deadly than the last. The creature stopped growling and fell limp against Miles. Who quickly slung the lifeless corpse aside. Kylie's voice was filled with worry, "are you okay?"
Isaac watched as Miles stayed down, wincing in pain. He was holding his forearm tightly, his clothes soaked in red. Kylie began crying as she examined his wound. The beast had bit him and the skin from his wrist all the way to his elbow was tattered beyond repair. His voice was riddled with pain, "it'll be okay babe, I'll be okay."
Kylie broke out into ugly fits of sobbing, her face buried in his shoulder as she held onto him. The whole ordeal was a nasty one that Isaac already knew the ending too. It took him a while to realize why the beast was so familiar. Then it hit him, he's seen one before. Only that one didn't look like a wolf. It looked like a deer, but the eyes were the same. Red and oddly human.
"We can do something right?" Kylie's voice was shrill and unsure. She wasn't new to this either and knew exactly what that beast was and how it worked. She knew that one bite from the thing was trouble and that there was nothing that could be done. Still, she hopelessly grasped at the idea that Miles could be helped.
"Just wrap it up for now," Isaac responded softly, his hand extended out towards her. A roll of bandages in it. She eagerly took them and begin work on fixing Miles' arm up. It wouldn't solve the problem, but it would keep him from bleeding out.
They returned to the camp shortly after that. Several people went to go check on Miles and talk to him. Kiley shut herself away in her tent for most of the night. Isaac went back to his usual duties and kept quiet about what had happened. He didn't want to cause panic amongst the others. There was talk of arguments between other members of Duncan's men. The details were never known. Then came the next morning.
There was a scream, followed by a panic of voices as everyone rushed out of their tents. Jason remembers that day, and what was seen by everyone there. One of the women, a southern bell type from back east was scared half to death. Her name was Margret Jones and she was pointing at something in the distance. A tree, the biggest one around. It took a lot to calm her down, but her reaction was justified. There was something hanging from that tree. Someone was hanging from that tree. It was Kylie, her body swaying in the autumn breeze. She was buried not long afterwards and Miles was nowhere to be found.
"Jason!" His mother's voice was harsh as she pulled him along. The camp was still in a frenzy. The shouting was still echoing all around and a foul oder began to fill the air. They had already passed by several torn up tents and people. Some alive and scared, others injured. Then there was the dead ones, lots of dead ones. Bodies that were bloodied and beaten. Some cut open in a hundred different places. Organs and bone spilling out onto the grass in a horrifying mess. His mother's yelling was due to him tripping over something.He didn't fall, just stumbled a bit. Upon looking back, he realized he had tripped over an arm. Its body nowhere in sight.
They never stopped moving, the remains of the camp began to fade into the night. Soon they would find themselves surrounded by tall evergreens. Their trunks twisting and leaning like the long legs of giants. It's amazing how night time can morph things into other things. Anything can become a sinister shape or unknown entity. The moon does try to help, but moonlight just isn't strong enough. Jason doesn't remember exactly how he got separated from his mother, but he knows it was in the woods. He's still sitting under the tree, curled up into a ball. He's terrified to move and he just wants this night to end. He would head to the road, but he lost his sense of direction a while ago. He's completely lost and one of those beasts could show up at any moment. He decides to risk it anyway. After all, the farther he is from the camp the better. He looks over at the now dirtied backpack his mother had on. He vaguely recalls her tossing it to him before he ended up alone. With a smooth swing of the arm, he scoops it up and onto one shoulder. He remembers how they lept traveling forward at first and decides to go a different direction to avoid accidently back tracking. Left it is.
God help him and the people of the Wright party.
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