Alex had learned to trust his instincts. They were sharper than before, heightened by the power he absorbed from the wendigo and skinwalker. He didn't just see things—he felt them. The shifts in the air, the weight of silence where sound should be. It was like his body knew when something wasn't right.
And right now, something was very wrong.
The small Montana town of Red Hollow was too quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn't natural, not even for a place nestled deep in the woods. It was the silence of people too scared to speak too loudly, of doors locked before the sun even set.
He had been passing through when he caught wind of it—rumors of missing people, bodies found half-eaten, whispers of something unnatural lurking in the trees.
A Hunt.
Alex started where he always did: 'research.'
He spent two days talking to the locals, keeping his questions casual. Bartenders, old-timers at the diner, the woman at the gas station register. They all told the same story.
- The disappearances started six months ago.
- The victims had no connection—different ages, different backgrounds.
- The bodies that were found… were barely recognizable.
- No animal tracks, no signs of struggle—just people vanishing, their remains turning up days later.
Alex checked the police reports, but they were just as confused as everyone else. The official explanation? ' Bear attacks.'
Bullshit.
Bears didn't drag their victims away and leave them mutilated in precise patterns. And they sure as hell didn't drain them of blood.
Sitting at the counter of the local diner, he stirred his coffee absentmindedly while pretending to read the newspaper. His ears, however, were tuned to the conversation happening in the booth behind him.
"I'm telling you, it ain't no bear," one man muttered. "A bear doesn't do that to a man."
"Then what the hell is it, Tom?" the other man whispered back. "Because I ain't setting foot in those woods until somebody figures it out."
Alex took a slow sip of his coffee. ' Yeah, neither would I if I didn't have to.'
That night, he packed light—a silver knife, iron rounds, a flare gun, and his usual gear. He took his truck down an old logging road, deep into the forest where most of the bodies had been found.
He left the truck behind and moved on foot. The deeper he went, the more the air changed. It wasn't just cold—it was wrong. The trees felt taller, the shadows stretched too far. The wind barely made a sound through the branches.
Something was watching him.
He pretended not to notice. He kept his pace steady, his movements normal. If whatever this thing was thought he was just another lost traveler, it would make its move.
And it did.
The first sign was the silence.
The second was the sudden snap of a branch, precise and intentional.
Alex spun just in time to see a blur of motion—dark, fast, inhuman. It crashed into him, knocking him off his feet. He rolled, instinct taking over, drawing his knife as he scrambled back up.
"What the hell—?"
The creature stood just at the edge of the moonlight.
Tall. Thin. Its skin was stretched tight over a skeletal frame, eyes black and hollow. Its mouth was wrong—too wide, filled with jagged teeth that gleamed even in the darkness. It smelled of rot and old blood.
Alex's grip tightened on the knife. 'That's new.'
The thing let out a guttural hiss before lunging.
Alex ducked, slicing upward. The silver blade cut across its chest, and it screeched—a sound like rusted metal grinding together.
"Oh, you don't like silver? That's a good start," he muttered, adjusting his stance.
The creature twisted mid-air, landing on all fours, circling him like a starving wolf.
Alex fired his shotgun.
Salt rounds. They hit, but barely staggered it.
The thing cocked its head at him, black eyes narrowing. Then it spoke.
"You should not be here."
Alex's blood ran cold. 'It can talk?'
"Yeah, well," he exhaled, raising his knife again, "I get that a lot."
It lunged again. This time, Alex was ready. He dodged to the side, kicking out at its knee. It staggered, but recovered fast. Too fast.
He reached for his flare gun. If silver and iron weren't doing the trick, maybe fire would.
The creature lunged—just as he fired.
The flare hit it dead center, igniting on impact. The thing let out a scream, thrashing as flames spread across its body. It clawed at its own burning flesh, stumbling backward, its black eyes wild with rage and pain.
Alex didn't hesitate. He surged forward, driving his knife straight into its heart.
For a moment, the world went still.
Then the creature collapsed, its body twisting and convulsing before finally going limp.
Alex stepped back, chest heaving. "Jesus…"
Then he felt it.
The pull.
It was different this time. More intense.
The moment the creature died, a wave of energy hit him—cold, suffocating, seeping into his skin like ink in water. His Power Absorption activated on its own, pulling something dark into him.
His vision blurred. His breath hitched.
Memories—not his—flashed in his mind. Hunger. Hunting. The thrill of the chase. He could feel what it had been, what it had done.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over.
Alex stumbled back, his body shaking. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to steady his breathing.
"What the hell did I just take?" he muttered.
The next morning, he buried the body. Burned what he could. Left no trace that anything had ever happened.
Then he got the hell out of Red Hollow.
As he drove down the empty highway, he kept his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the way his hands still felt too fast.
The hunt had been a success.
But something told him he had just stepped into much deeper waters.
---
To be continued...