The first snow of winter was settling in as I trudged through the white landscape. My boots crunched the fresh powder beneath my feet, the only sounds in the otherwise silent forest. The pine boughs hung low as burdens of snow weighed heavily upon them. The smaller shrubbery looked like balls of white, crudely pressed together, with the odd twig protruding from beneath the layers. My breath clouded the chilly morning air.
I looked to the sky beyond the break in the canopy and saw that the first streaks of colour heralding the new day were apparent. It would not be long before the forest sprung to life.
I looked down at my feet. A scattering of tracks lay before them. I had been right to choose the game path. It had seen a fair amount of activity during the night.
One set of tracks stood apart from the rest. I crouched down and inspected them. They were larger and held the distinct features of a predator. They were also identical to those left near the farmsteads that bordered the forest.
The beast had roamed for too long now and was growing bolder by the day. The village council had shrugged off the missing livestock as merely a pack of wolves passing by, but when the trapper of our village went missing, all they said was that accidents happened in the forest. We all knew the dangers of venturing too deep, alone, and close to dusk.
I had to take matters into my own hands.
Their excuse did little to comfort me, it was the same one they had given me when my wife had disappeared. I knew this was no pack of wolves that plagued our village. It was something far fouler. There had only ever been a single set of tracks.
I unslung the rifle from where it hung on my shoulder and removed the cartridge, inspecting it. The ten rounds, I had had our smith forge, stared back with a silver sheen. If he thought me mad, he did not say. All in the village left me to my own devices since the ‘accident’. Satisfied, I placed the cartridge back in the rifle and rose. I needed to be on my guard. There was no knowing when I would stumble upon the beast from now on.
The trail continued, moving on into the denser parts of the forest, where the trees pressed close and the light of the new day was sporadic. Less game travelled into this part of the forest and I knew I was getting closer to my quarry’s territory. I slowed to a crawl, growing warier in my surroundings.
A couple of minutes passed before I reached a kill. It was a young buck. I moved up to the buck and examined it. It was fresh, only a couple of hours old, but the icy touch of winter was already setting in. A dark red patch stained the snow around the buck.
The beast had been picky, eating only the soft organs, and leaving the rest to freeze. I shook my head in disgust. Such a waste of good meat.
The beast killed more for pleasure than survival.
I glanced around the corpse of the buck and noticed that the beast’s tracks had stopped. The feeling of something watching washed over me, making my skin crawl. The forest was quiet, holding its breath for what was to come. I loaded a round into the chamber of my rifle as I prepared for an ambush.
A scattering of snow fell from the branches above. I brought up my rifle just as the snarling beast launched itself at me from high in the boughs.
I fired a round.
The piercing sound echoed through the silent forest.
The shot went wide.
I rolled to my left.
The beast crashed into the ground where I had just been. Righting myself, I hastily loaded the next round and put the beast in my sights, getting a clearer look at it.
The beast was wolf-like in appearance, covered in a mixture of thick grey and white fur. Its wolf-shaped head ended in a muzzle lined with razor-sharp teeth. Instead of paws, its forelimbs ended in claw-tipped hands.
The sight of this monstrosity turned my veins to ice and a primal urge to take flight called to me from the pit of my stomach.
The beast rose onto its hind legs and howled. I felt all the hairs on my body stand on end. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from its uncannily human body.
With preternatural speed, it lunged at me.
I fired my second round before diving to the right, but its claws found purchase. As they sunk deep into my side, I felt them scrape against bone.
I rolled to my feet, adrenaline coursing through my body. I loaded the third round.
The beast lunged once more toward me and, with deft precision, I fired my rifle.
The beast stumbled forward, clutching its chest, a crimson trickle running between its fingers. Euphoria rushed through me. I had done it. I had felled the beast. Our eyes met, and I saw a swirl of emotions within the beast’s own. Then, before me, the beast’s form shrank. I watched in horror as the beast that I had slain became my wife, her pale, naked body stark against the blood-soaked snow. I fell to my knees as a fresh flurry fell in silence around us.
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