While Chris and Ashley were busy staging their dramatic farewell—like a scene straight out of a cheap horror flick right before the hero steps into the dark where monsters lurk—Alex and the old hunter Jack kept their eyes fixed on the forest. The darkness seemed alive: the frozen silhouettes of trees looked unnaturally precise, and every gust of wind stirred the branches as if something… or someone… might be hiding there. Wendigos could be anywhere—perched on branches, crouched in the shadows of rocks, even waiting right beneath their feet—just biding their time for the perfect prey.

Alex stole a glance back and saw Ashley clutching Chris’s hand as if afraid she might never see him again. A cynical thought crept into his mind: why do girls always have to wave that damn “red flag” over the guys’ heads? Jack grunted in disapproval as well, his patience wearing thin.

When Ashley finally kissed Chris, the boy straightened up, filled with some newfound determination. Alex and Jack exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing: if determination alone could kill monsters, Wendigos would have been nothing more than fairy tales by now.

“Come on already, son,” Jack grumbled, unable to hold back. “You’ll have plenty of time to kiss your girl later. Are we going to save your friend or not?”

Chris nodded a farewell to Ashley and stepped toward the exit. Alex just shook his head. Losing a couple of minutes wouldn’t change anything. Josh was no longer in the shed—Hannah, in her Wendigo form, had dragged him to one of her nests in the mines long ago. Alex didn’t bother saying it out loud. Like he always told people: say “don’t go to the dangerous place,” and the first thing they’ll do is head straight there, simply because they don’t believe.

When Chris finally stepped into the yard, Alex and Jack shared a glance before starting down the path toward the shed.

“Alright, you two are the so-called experts,” Chris broke the silence. “What do I need to know about these creatures?”

“Be quiet,” Jack answered without turning. “Any noise, and you’re already signing your own death warrant.”

“Okay… So how many shots with a shotgun does it take to kill one?” Chris asked, tightening his grip on the weapon while glancing nervously around.

“You don’t have enough shells,” Alex snorted, walking in the rear. “Their skin is like natural armor. Getting through it with regular weapons isn’t easy.”

“So… they can’t be killed at all? Then why even bother with guns?” Chris frowned, glancing between Alex and Jack.

“No, they can be killed,” Jack replied calmly. “But that shotgun in your hands isn’t for killing—it’s for buying time. Bullets won’t stop them, but they’ll slow them down. And sometimes a few seconds is all you need to run.”

“But still… there has to be a way?” Chris pressed, gripping the shotgun like it was his last hope.

“There is,” Alex cut in. “Burning them is the best option. Fire—they hate it. If there’s no fire, then take the head off. Worst-case scenario, shove the barrel up their ass and pull the trigger. Doubt it’ll kill ’em clean, but their guts will sure as hell fly like fireworks. And yeah, bullets can hurt them—just not with that pea-shooter. You’d need a much bigger caliber.” He patted Chris on the shoulder.

“The kid’s right,” Jack nodded. “I’ve tried everything. Cut off their heads, smashed their limbs, even tried starving them. Doesn’t work. Hunger only makes them meaner. But fire… fire works. They flee from it like it’s the plague.” He tapped the flamethrower strapped to his back.

“I mean… honestly, I’m scared of fire too,” Chris muttered. “But I need to know more. How do they behave? Is there anything that can help predict what they’ll do?”

Jack let out a rough laugh.

“These bastards have patterns. You think they’re just brainless things driven only by hunger? Believe that, and you’ll end up as dinner. They’re smart. They can wait. They’ll sit motionless for hours, and then—in that one moment you blink or let your guard down—they’ll strike. They only ever hunt at night. And if one of them spots you… then you’d better pray your legs are strong enough to keep running. Because they won’t stop chasing until they’ve got you.”

Chris nodded and was about to ask another question about the Wendigo, but at that moment he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Alex, who raised a finger to his lips, signaling that now was not the time to talk. Chris swallowed hard and forced back the words he was about to say. He had gotten too carried away with the conversation and forgotten that they were in a forest full of creatures just waiting for the right moment to strike.

Old Jack noticed Alex’s gesture as well and gave an approving nod. The closer they got to the shed, the stronger the tension became, as if the darkness itself thickened around them, pressing down with invisible weight. The air was heavy, suffocating, whispering that something was very wrong here.

Walking behind Chris, Alex pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and carefully scanned their surroundings. Somewhere to the right came the crunch of snow, above them a faint rustle, and in the distance something seemed to dart between the trees. It was all too familiar — the Wendigo were close.

A few minutes later, they could make out the silhouette of the shed. A dim lantern flickered by the porch, casting uneven light on the snow. Chris rushed forward, but Alex grabbed his arm, stopping him. The boy clenched his teeth, but remembered the warning and forced himself to wait.

Moving slowly and carefully, they approached the door. Jack went first, never letting his guard down for a second — the old hunter knew these woods far too well to underestimate them.

On the shed’s walls, Alex noticed long claw marks. Faint in the darkness, but unmistakable — a creature had been here. He frowned, wondering: was it Hannah who dragged Josh away… or another Wendigo entirely?

Jack nodded, signaling they could move on. Chris couldn’t hold himself back and almost ran inside. But all he found was emptiness. A broken stool where Josh had been tied, and a pool of blood beneath it — that was all that remained.

Alex’s expression darkened. There was no doubt now: Josh had been taken. But by which one, he couldn’t yet say. Irritation bubbled inside him, so strong he even “prayed” silently to the goddess of Fate, asking her not to screw things up further — and promising that if he ever met her, he wouldn’t hit her. Though deep down, Alex was sure: if things went wrong, he wouldn’t mind turning it into a real hunt.

Chris, meanwhile, searched every corner of the shed in desperation, as if hoping Josh had miraculously hidden somewhere.”Oh, shit! He’s not here… We’re too late!” he nearly shouted, his voice trembling with panic.

Alex rolled his eyes but kept silent. The only thing stopping him from making a sarcastic remark was how serious the situation was. Otherwise, he’d have gladly reminded Chris that the delay was thanks to his dramatic farewell with Ashley.

Crouching down, Alex carefully examined the floor. The blood trail led toward the exit, then suddenly vanished. As if the Wendigo had first dragged the body along the ground, then hoisted it over its shoulder and escaped by leaping through the treetops. Stepping outside, Alex spotted the telltale marks on the trunks — his hunch was right.

He was about to share his thoughts when the forest was pierced by chilling screams. Cold, inhuman, they echoed from every direction at once.

“Quiet!” Jack snapped. “We’re leaving. Now. They’re close. Another minute, and there’ll be no way out.”

“No! We can’t leave until we find Josh!” Chris shouted back, clutching the shotgun so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“He’s not here,” Alex said coldly, pointing at the tracks. “See for yourself. A Wendigo took him. The trail leads straight into the forest, to their nest. If we stay, you’ll be the next one.”

“You don’t understand!” Jack suddenly exploded, grabbing Chris by the collar and forcing him to look into his eyes. “They’ll paralyze you first. Then they’ll start peeling your skin, piece by piece, savoring your screams. And only after that will they feast on your guts. Alive. Wendigos don’t know mercy. To them, we’re just meat — a way to quiet the endless hunger for a little while.”

Chris went pale and swallowed hard.”Th-then… maybe we should just go back to the others…”

“Exactly. But carefully,” Alex said, pulling out the Blue Rose and checking the cylinder. “Chris, be ready to run at any moment. And most importantly: if we say ‘don’t move,’ you freeze. Wendigos can’t see what doesn’t move.”

“Like… like a T-Rex?” Chris asked uncertainly.

“More like frogs,” Alex smirked. “But your version works too.”

“All right, enough talking,” Jack growled hoarsely, moving toward the exit. “They’re already here.”

Alex stepped outside after them and closed his eyes, focusing. A sharp wave of irritation flared in his mind as he caught movement — at least six Wendigos were closing in on their position. Just as he had suspected: the shed was a trap, bait laid out for prey.

Old Jack took point, Chris stayed in the middle, gripping the shotgun so tightly his knuckles had turned white, and Alex brought up the rear. Inside, frustration churned. If he were free to use his full power, it would all be over in seconds. But now he had to play the part of an ordinary man. In this world, any mention of his true abilities would be written off as the ramblings of a madman.

They carefully pulled away from the shed, aiming to reach the path leading back to the lodge. Suddenly, Jack shot up his hand.

“Stop. Don’t move. They’re close,” he rasped in a low whisper.

Chris froze, barely daring to breathe. Alex halted too, spotting a dark silhouette perched high in a tree. A Wendigo clung to the branches with long, clawed fingers, tilting its head as it listened intently to every sound, like a predator sniffing out its prey. Its face, half-hidden by the shadows, looked like a shriveled skull stretched with thin, leathery skin.

More shapes emerged in the darkness. Wendigos whispered to each other in strange, clicking sounds, as though coordinating the hunt. They stood like grotesque statues, frozen atop the trees.

When the sounds faded, Jack carefully moved forward, Chris following. Alex was about to stop them — but he was too late. In the next heartbeat, one of the creatures dropped from the branches with a shriek and crashed onto the path, lunging straight for Jack and Chris.

Alex didn’t waste a second. He pulled a heavy iron coin from his pocket and flicked it at one of the Wendigos still perched in the trees. The coin slammed into its chest with such force it knocked the creature backward. The Wendigo howled in pain, snapping branches as it fell.

“They’ve spotted us!” Jack shouted. “Run! Now! Back to the house!”

“Wh-what the hell?!” Chris screamed, seeing a Wendigo with his own eyes for the first time.

Jack swung up his flamethrower and unleashed a stream of fire on the leaping monster. It shrieked, thrashing and rolling in the snow as flames devoured its body. The other Wendigos dropped from the trees, one after another.

Chris froze in horror, staring at the burning creature writhing on the ground, howling in agony. At that moment, Alex heard a rapid crunch of branches behind him. He spun just in time to see a Wendigo leaping at him, its long limbs outstretched, claws like knives.

Without thinking, Alex drew the Blue Rose and fired. The gun roared, and two bullets punched through the monster’s skull. The Wendigo was thrown backward, crashing into the snow in a spray of earth and ice.

“We’re sitting ducks out here, we need to move!” Jack shouted, gripping his flamethrower.

No sooner had he spoken than another beast burst from the trees on their flank. Alex reacted in the nick of time, grabbing the old man by the collar and yanking him back. Still, the claws raked across Jack’s body. The flamethrower slipped from his grip, and the fuel canisters hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Three deep, bloody gashes stretched from Jack’s shoulder down to his waist. The Wendigo, failing to finish him off in one strike, whirled around to lunge again. Alex raised his revolver and fired. The bullet slammed into its chest, blasting the creature straight through the shed window in a crash of splintering wood.

“Shit, old man! You holding up?!” Alex threw a glance at the bloody wounds.

Jack gasped for breath, coughing up blood.

“Leave me… and run. I’m done for. If I distract them, you’ll make it out alive.”

“Oh, shit… shit, shit! We have to run!” Chris stammered in a panic, on the verge of losing it.

“Goddammit, Chris! Shut the hell up!” Alex barked. “Old man, I’m dragging you back to the house, you hear me?!”

He hefted Jack, slinging the man’s arm over his shoulder, and braced himself to push forward.

Alex hoisted old Jack onto his back. The wound was too severe — blood streamed down, and the old man barely clung to consciousness. Alex gritted his teeth in frustration, especially at seeing Chris completely frozen, unsure of what to do. But even in his panic, Chris managed to pull the trigger — the shotgun thundered, and one of the creatures that had rushed out of the shed took a blast straight to the chest.

“Chris! Damn it! Wake up, idiot!” Alex shouted, keeping Jack on his back. “I’m carrying the old man, and you’re supposed to shoot everything that moves! Got it?!”

“Y-yes… yes! Go! Forward!” Chris nodded, trying to pull himself together.

Alex surged ahead along the path, Chris scrambling after him. Behind them trailed a crooked, bloody streak left by Jack’s wound. The howls and growls of the Wendigos grew closer, tightening the circle around the fleeing trio.

Suddenly, a fallen tree blocked their path, and perched atop it was a monster. It shrieked, and Chris swung the shotgun. The shot hit — the Wendigo was thrown backward. While the creature was recovering, Alex kicked the tree, clearing the way. Chris didn’t care about anything except reaching the house alive.

But the injured Wendigo had already risen and leapt toward them with a wild jump. Chris fired again, but in that same instant, the creature’s claw sliced through his leg. Blood sprayed onto the snow, and he screamed, dropping the shotgun.

“Alex! Help! I’m hit!” Chris shrieked in panic.

“Goddammit, why is nothing going right?!” Alex cursed, spinning sharply toward the injured Chris.

The Wendigo raised its claws to finish him off, but Alex’s boot connected with its jaw. A sickening crunch echoed as the creature flew back, smashing into the bushes.

“Get up!” Alex roared, grabbing Chris like a sack of potatoes. “Hold on, I’ve got you!”

Now he carried two at once: the old man on his back and Chris in one arm. In the other hand, Alex held Ebony, firing at predators leaping out of the darkness.

One Wendigo dropped from above, but Alex met it with a kick to the chest, sending it over the edge. He jumped after it, landing on the creature’s body and crushing its chest with a sickening crack. Another moment, and the heel of his boot smashed down on the monster’s head, pulverizing the bones.

Another scream rang out above. A Wendigo fell onto the canopy with the gas cylinders and shrieked when it spotted Alex.

“Shoot! Quick!” Chris yelled, still dangling from Alex’s arm.

“Shut up, Chris. I know what I’m doing!” Alex growled, aiming.

The shot rang out. The bullet struck a cylinder — and instantly, everything around was lit with blinding flames. The explosion launched the Wendigo into the air, and it screamed in agony, engulfed in fire. Its charred body collapsed deep into the forest.

Meanwhile, in the house basement, Samantha, Mike, Ashley, and Emily waited for Alex, Jack, and Chris to return. Samantha paced nervously in the cramped space. Suddenly — a deafening explosion shook the house.

“Alex…” she whispered, then without thinking, rushed upstairs.

Swinging open the door, she saw the blaze and Alex running toward the house: Jack, bloodied, on his back; Chris in his hand.

“Alex! Over here! Faster!” Samantha shouted, flinging the door wide.

Seeing Samantha fling the door open, Alex sprinted toward the house. He had never carried two men at once while fending off bloodthirsty creatures — every second felt like torture. Glancing back mid-run, he noticed the Wendigos weren’t chasing them. The creatures howled viciously, their eyes gleaming in the darkness, and slowly retreated into the forest, never taking their gaze off Alex and his burden.

Reaching the porch, he practically flew inside.

“Samantha, lead the way! We need a room. Both of them are injured, there’s no time!” he commanded, seeing the girl frozen in place.

“Y-yes… this way, quickly!” she responded, running ahead.

Alex, breathing heavily in irritation, followed her down to the basement. Samantha led him to the room where Josh had once monitored the house. Mike, Ashley, and Emily jumped from their seats — relief at Alex’s return instantly turned to horror at the sight of battered Jack and pale, bloodied Chris.

“Chris! God, what happened to you?!” Ashley screamed, rushing to the boy Alex still held like a sack of potatoes.

“No time!” Alex barked. “Clear some space! Immediately!”

Mike swept everything off the table in one motion. Emily, pale-faced, cleared the other table as well. Alex laid Chris down first. He groaned in pain, and Ashley nearly fainted seeing blood gushing from the torn leg. Chris’s face went chalk-white, and sweat poured from his temples — the adrenaline had drained, leaving only pain.

Alex laid the old man down beside him, and everyone gasped at the gruesome claw marks from the Wendigo, stretching from shoulder to waist.

“Ashley! Don’t just stand there! Press on Chris’s wound or he’ll bleed out!” Alex yelled, snapping her out of shock.

“Ah… yes! Hold on, Chris, it’ll be okay…” she murmured, pressing the wound with both hands.

“Alex, what do we do next?” Samantha asked, turning pale at the sight of the gaping slash across Jack’s chest.

“Listen carefully. Take Emily and search for the first-aid kit. The most important things — needle and thread. If you don’t have them, use dental floss. Mike, find alcohol, any strong alcohol will do. We need to stitch and clean the wounds. And fast! We don’t have time, they’re losing blood!” Alex ordered sharply.

The trio hesitated, stunned by his intensity.

“What are you waiting for?! MOVE!” he roared, sending chills down everyone’s spines.

After his shout, they immediately sprang into action.

Alex tore the bloodied clothes off the old man and quickly examined the wound. It was massive, but fortunately not too deep — there was a chance to save him. He breathed a small sigh of relief. The thought crossed his mind: not long ago, he could have just healed the wound with magic, but now it all depended on skill. Luckily, he had the gift of quickly mastering new abilities — see it once, and he was already proficient.

“Damn… thanks, old man. Didn’t think I’d be playing surgeon today,” he muttered through gritted teeth, holding the wound and preparing for improvised surgery.

Turning to Chris, Alex noticed the boy starting to lose consciousness again. Ashley pressed on his leg, but panic had her movements stiff.

“Ashley! Rip open his pants and check the wound. Remove all the debris. Move!” Alex barked sharply, still controlling the bleeding from Jack.

Ashley nodded and tried to tear open the pant leg on Chris’s injured leg, but the fabric stubbornly resisted. Gathering her strength, she finally managed to rip it, and as the material spread apart, revealing the wound, she froze and then recoiled in horror at what she saw. Tears welled in her eyes, and she began sobbing again.

Alex just hoped that Samantha, Mike, and Emily would return as soon as possible with the supplies they needed. He glanced at old Jack’s face and let out a heavy sigh. After all the years the man had survived battling Wendigos, it took a group of teenagers for him to nearly die. Jack was already almost unconscious from blood loss, muttering something incoherent.

“Alex! We found the first-aid kit, but there were no threads! But I found a needle!” Samantha shouted, running in with the kit in her hands.

“And I found dental floss! You said it would work!” Emily added, rushing in and handing over her set.

“Where’s Mike?” Alex asked, taking the supplies from them.

“I’m here!” Mike called out, holding two bottles. “Found only whiskey and tequila. Hope that works?”

“Perfect, that’ll do. Excellent. I’ll take care of Jack, and you clean Chris’s wound. Pour it directly on the leg and press immediately with a clean cloth. We need to disinfect. Who knows what filth Wendigos keep under their nails, but better safe than sorry.” Alex grabbed the whiskey bottle.

Mike nodded, opened the other bottle, and poured it onto Chris’s wound. Chris screamed in pain and jerked so violently he almost knocked everything over. Samantha, Emily, and Ashley piled on him to hold him still.

Meanwhile, Alex turned to Jack. When the whiskey touched the old man’s wound, he didn’t even flinch. He just slightly opened his eyes, coming back to reality. Alex carefully set the bottle on the table, grabbed the needle, and began preparing it. Jack meanwhile took the whiskey and took two large swigs.

“Damn… excellent whiskey,” he rasped. “Such a waste on my wounds.”

“Glad you came to, old man. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but I’ll patch you up now — it’ll get easier,” Alex said with a faint smile.

“You should’ve left me, kid… I’ve been fighting these creatures too long. Knew someday I’d become their food. Maybe if you’d left me, this guy wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Jack muttered, taking another sip.

“You think too much, old man. Maybe hunters rarely die peacefully in bed… but who said it’s impossible? I’m not the kind to abandon people in trouble,” Alex replied firmly.

“Suit yourself… do what you must. I’ve lived long enough anyway,” Jack exhaled, closing his eyes.

Alex understood his feelings perfectly. In Jack’s eyes, he saw the fatigue of a man who had fought for too long and no longer wanted to continue. With a sigh, Alex disinfected the needle and got to work. Jack didn’t make a sound—he just gritted his teeth and endured as the needle pierced his skin.

Alex worked quickly and with focus, and under his hands, neat stitches gradually formed. His fingers were already stained with blood, but he didn’t blink or get distracted, completely absorbed in the task.

Samantha, Mike, Emily, and Ashley watched with wide eyes, shocked.

When the last stitches were in place, Alex straightened and allowed himself a relieved breath.

“One done. Now Chris. Hold him tight, he’ll struggle,” Alex said as he approached the table.

“Go ahead! I can take it!” Chris muttered, trying to sound brave.

“You may think that, but believe me, it’s going to hurt like hell. Don’t compare yourself to old Jack: for him, that kind of pain is part of life. Better bite down on this cloth. And you, hold him.” Alex shoved the cloth into Chris’s mouth and prepared the needle.

Alex looked at Chris. He nodded, clenching the cloth between his teeth, bracing for the pain. Alex gave a short nod in return and carefully removed the blood-soaked fabric from his wound. The moment the leg was exposed, Ashley turned away again—she could barely watch.

Mike held Chris’s head to keep him from thrashing, Samantha and Emily gripped his arms, and Ashley pressed his legs to keep them still. Alex raised the needle—and in that instant, Chris let out a muffled, desperate cry and started struggling, trying to throw them all off.

Emily’s hand slipped, and Chris accidentally hit her right on the wound—where the Wendigo had bitten her. She groaned, her lips paling from the pain, but she still grabbed his hand, gritting her teeth, and didn’t let go. She knew that if he broke free, Alex wouldn’t be able to finish.

For Chris, those minutes stretched into a torturous eternity. Every loop of the needle seemed to tear at his very soul. Sweat, blood, and screams merged into a single nightmare. Only when Alex finally placed the last stitch did Chris collapse backward, spent, drenched in sweat and trembling as if he had just walked through hell.

“Drink,” Alex said, pulling the cloth from his mouth and handing him a bottle of tequila. “This will ease the pain a little. Shame my first aid kit is still in the car.”

Chris grabbed the bottle and took several large swigs. The bitterness and burning taste hit his throat, making him cough, but the pain at least eased slightly.

“We’re done with these two,” Alex said wearily, turning to Emily. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I’m fine,” she waved him off, covering her shoulder. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Maybe just a scratch. But a Wendigo bit you,” Alex’s voice was calm but firm. “You won’t turn into one from this alone. But remember: these creatures eat raw meat. There could still be infection in the wound. So stop being stubborn and show me your shoulder.”

Emily exhaled in relief—so she didn’t have to fear turning into a Wendigo. She removed her leather jacket, revealing torn, blood-soaked clothes beneath that exposed the bite mark.

Alex took the bottle from Chris and gestured Emily over. She sat on a chair, and without warning, Alex poured tequila directly onto the wound. Emily screamed so loudly the basement walls echoed.

Alex quickly rinsed her shoulder and applied a bandage. He moved so confidently and efficiently that Emily barely realized it was over. He handed her the bottle, and she took a few sips, coughing before letting out a tired sigh.

“Good work,” Alex muttered, lighting a cigarette with bloodied hands. “And I just wanted to check and go home… life sucks.”

“You should change… you’re covered in blood,” Samantha said, worriedly looking at him.

Alex just nodded silently but stayed seated. His thoughts were elsewhere. Everything had turned into a problem again simply because he chose not to stay out of it. And he had to restrain himself from revealing his powers. Chuck, that self-proclaimed “god,” could notice even the slightest spark. If he did—he’d run. And Alex would have to chase him across worlds, never knowing when this so-called director of horror would escalate to something far more dangerous.

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep