A few short days after the incidents began, the first snowflakes began to fall in the night, just before the early Wednesday morning. The ground was already coated in a thin layer of white, but over time it was destined to become thicker. The people of New Hope began to feel uneasy as the days persisted. Hunting during winter was difficult, but for every animal they killed, they would find several that had been ripped asunder and coughed up into the large pellets. The people were beginning to worry as they desperately tried to hunt. Thankfully, if hunting failed then the village could turn to old man Connor’s farm. He had a few heads of cattle that could be used in emergencies. They were mostly used for dairy, but everyone knew that when winter became all the more cruel and oppressive, then you had to do everything in your power to survive.
Christopher was eating his breakfast that day. Bacon and eggs with rye with a warm cup of coffee that went down his throat and soothed his body and spirit. Elisha was drawing by the fireplace. He had multiple drawings placed in his room. He used everything he could get his hands on (mostly pieces of charcoal saved from the fireplace) to draw his masterpieces. Annie sat at the opposite side of the table as she ate her meal. She suddenly perked up and looked down at her belly, making a loud gasp. Christopher looked at her with concern.
“Annie? Are you alright? What's wrong?”
“Nothing darling.” She smiled brightly and looked up at Christopher. “The baby’s just kicking.”
Christopher smiled and went over to her, rubbing his hand on her belly and feeling the baby moving around inside her. He smiled and placed his ear to her belly. She responded by gently combing her fingers through his hair. After a moment or two, Christopher stood up and checked on Elisha and his drawings.
“Alright boyo, what do you have today?”
He knelt down and saw the different pieces of art on the floor. Most of it was the usual kid drawings: drawings of stick figures depicting the family; pictures of the house; pictures of animals, yet one picture stood out that alarmed Christopher. It was a mixture of the charcoal from the fireplace and some chalk of varying colors from the general store. It depicted the house from an outdoor point of view. Elisha’s little face poked out from the single window. The house was at the far left of the drawing while the majority was depicting the forest. Between the tree lines was an odd shapely figure. It was taller than the house, had long gangly arms, large deer antlers and pitch black eyes.
This drawing unsettled Christopher and he held it to the light to get a better look at it.
“Elisha, what's this?”
“That's the pale man, Da.” Elisha spoke in an innocent, unworried tone, unbothered by the sinister looking figure.
“The Pale Man?” Christopher repeated, any trace of a smile having left him as he examined the picture more closely.
“Uh huh. I saw him out of the window last night. He stood there looking at me.”
Christopher wanted to calm himself down. A child’s overactive imagination was as beautiful as it was unpredictable.
“Well-ahh… if you see the ‘pale man’ again, then let your da know about it, alright?”
Elisha answered with a short “mhm” before returning to his carefree drawing. Christopher stood up to hand the drawing over to Annie. She covered her mouth, clearly disturbed by the image. Christopher held her hand and looked firmly in her eyes.
“If…you see something out in the woods, I want both of you to hide in the cellar for me.”
“But Christopher, it's just a drawing.” She shook her head trying to reassure her husband.
He held her hands tightly.
“Promise me, Annie. Promise me.”
Reluctantly, Annie nodded and caressed his cheek.
Striding into town were three hunters. Each carried one or two Beavers with them to sell. These men were of the Cherokee village that lived near New Hope, and had come to trade their kill for valuables. They spoke to each other as they walked into the village.
“I’ve never seen the village so quiet before.” Kanuna spoke in his native language of Cherokee as the others did when they wanted to share their thoughts to each other and none of the villagers.
“Just because our tribe is peaceful with them does not mean they don’t hold prejudices.” Said Degotoa: the elder of the three brothers. He always was the most calm and level headed of the three, and bailed his brothers out of trouble more than he would care to admit.
Diwali, the youngest of the brothers spoke up next. He believed himself to be just as clever as the coyote, but never truly matched that level of wit.
“I agree with Kanuna. Something has them scared.”
Degotoa turned to the side to look at Diwali with a disapproving glare.
“That's enough. Just follow me and do what you’re told. I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be.”
The three men arrived at the butcher area who flagged them over to him. Max O’Lynn smiled brightly as he saw them.
“Well, If it ain’t my favorite hunters in the land. Got some nice beavers on ya.”
Degotoa took charge of the situation and laid his beavers on the table in front of the butcher. His English was more forced and broken than his native tongue.
“Took all day to hunt. Trapped them in den. What offer?”
Max chuckled and shrugged.
“Aye, not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how do ye do.’ You’re straight ta business. That's why I like ye.”
The well trained butcher looked over all of the beavers and examined them one by one.
“Good catch as always. This will feed quite a few hungry mouths, I’ll tell ya that. What do ye want fer them?”
Degotoa answered quickly without missing a beat.
“Ammo. Medicine. Things to protect tribe.”
“Aye. Just go to the general store. Tell em Max sent ye. I’ll cover any damages.”
Degotoa immediately pushed himself away from the counter. Diwali nervously hesitated before he followed, but Kanuna stayed behind. He spoke much clearer than Degota and with a greater vocabulary.
“Thank you very much, good sir. Have a good day.”
Max smiled and thanked Kanuna for the effort with a silent nod and a wink. As Kanuna returned to his brothers, Degotoa rolled his eyes and shook his head. Kanuna took offense and would speak to his brother in the native tongue.
“Oh I’m sorry? Was that not good enough?”
“I have no idea why you would choose to degrade yourself like that.” Degotoa didn’t look at Kanuna, instead choosing to walk to the store.
“And what you did didn’t degrade you? You sound so angry when you speak to them. ‘Ahh, give ammo and medicine. Protect tribe we must. Future of tribe depend on Degotoa.’ That's what you sound like.”
Kanuna made exaggerated gestures and made an emotionless stone-like face as he mocked Degotoa. The elder brother quickly turned and gave his younger brother an angry glare that felt like daggers ready to knife him.
“You insult me, little brother? You are a child. You need to grow up.”
“Oh, look at you,’old man.’ you’re three years older than me and five years older than Diwali. That does not give you the right to order us around like your servants.”
“And you have a fascination with the white men that I don’t like, little cub.”
Diwali placed his hands on his brothers shoulders and tried to get them to calm down.
“Easy, brothers. Easy. No need to rip at each other like starving wolves. Besides, Kanuna has a point. You need to be a little nicer to the people we are trading with.”
Degotoa snapped his vision to Diwali for a moment and then returned to keeping an eye on where he was going.
“I am nice enough as it is.”
The brothers would be here for a while in order to get their equipment. Degotoa was not a fan of New Hope -its people mainly– and desired only to get his business done and return to the tribe. Kanuna on the other hand had business here, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t be late.
Christopher went out hunting again and found a scene much like the one he saw on Sunday. The remains of a deer —or rather what was left— had the familiar gag inducing smell that invaded his nose before. This had been here for a while. A swarm of flies buzzed and ate what little remained of the deer. It was the same owl pellet-like remnant that he had seen before. He looked around to see if there was any trace of the event.
He examined a nearby tree that had blood stains on it. Much of the bark from the tree had been removed as if struck by something hard. He traced his hand on the tree and found it sticky. He sniffed his hand, but it didn’t have the same smell as tree sap, nor did it have the same consistency. It felt like drying saliva. Something licked the blood from the tree. He crouched down to try to find some tracks and found something strange.
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The creature seemed to switch between four and two legs. Even stranger was that it appeared to have two sets of feet. One set of tracks resembled that of an elk’s hooves yet somehow larger. The other set appeared to be more wolf-like in nature, though something was odd about these tracks. He hovered his hand over the track to see how large it was. The paw was extremely large compared to his hand. He estimated that the paw was larger than his torso. He squinted his eyes at the track, and could see something very faint. It stopped looking like a paw print and looked more like a handprint.
He stood up and ventured deeper into the woods, trying his best to take his mind off of the situation. He rubbed his arm on his brow to dry sweat coming down into his eyes. He then froze and saw something. A White tailed deer stood a fair distance away from him, and it hadn’t noticed Christopher.
He carefully moved closer to a tree to shield himself from the deer’s view. Slowly and methodically, he pulled his rifle out and would gently aim down the sights. He had a very clear shot of the deer. It was very simple. He breathed in to calm himself and held his breath to be steady. He aimed right for the deer’s heart and waited for the perfect moment to strike. Just before he could fire, the deer heard something and ran away. Christopher sighed and rolled his eyes. He was about to walk away when he heard movement behind him. He turned and saw what would be his worst fear. The beast stared at him with focus and hunger in its yellow eyes and growled at him loudly. It flexed its razor sharp claws and flashed its sharp sword like teeth. It was a mountain lion and it saw Christopher as its meal.
Christopher responded the best way he knew how. He pointed the gun at the animal and pointed the trigger.
Click…
He blinked, frozen in place and a cold sweat running over his body. The rifle misfired. He saw the cougar’s unimpressed glare staring back into his soul, and Christopher could swear he heard himself screaming violently as he would be torn limb from limb. He slowly backed up and prepared to make his exit, but the large cat kept getting closer to him. It hisses loudly and let out an ear piercing shriek as the hair on its back stood. It positioned itself and would be mere moments away from pouncing upon Christopher.
The mountain lion was just about to leap when an arrow came flying out of nowhere and hit the cat in its chest. The cat fell to the ground and writhed, kicking and screaming before falling limp, dead from the heart shot. Christopher realized he had held his breath and finally took in some much needed air before looking to his savior.
“Now that's the second time you owe me your life, brother wolf.”
Kanuna lowered his bow and walked over to Christopher. Christopher smiled in shock and surprise.
“Kanuna! You son of a bitch!”
The two men shook hands and hugged it out. Christopher pulled away and shook his head in disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving you, among other things. What's wrong, you’re not getting old on me, are you?”
“Alright, smart ass.”
Christopher gently punched Kanuna’s shoulder before looking over the mountain lion kill.
“Good shot as always. Right through the heart. Guess that means it's yours.”
“Oh please, my only reward for this is that your debt to me has just been raised, old friend. Next time, bring a bow and arrow with you. They don’t jam.”
Christopher shook his head and nodded, hoisting the cougar up on his back and carrying it with him with medium effort. He strained for a moment or two before walking towards his home.
“I don’t owe you for that other time, remember? I had that bear completely under control.”
Kanuna chuckled and crossed his arms, giving Christopher a sly and cocky smirk.
“Oh sure, you clearly had the bear under control. Tell me, how is that bite scar treating you? How about the large claws on your legs?”
“You made your point. I was wanting some deer, but I guess we’ll be having mountain lion stew for the next few days.”
“And you will make sure to use every part of the animal, will you not?” Kanuna said as he tilted his head downwards and looked at Christopher’s face.
“Yes yes. I’ll use every part of it and give the damn cat an honorable burial for nearly ripping my throat out.”
“Good. So how is your wife doing?”
“Near the final days of being pregnant with weird food cravings and mood swings. How do you think she’s doing?”
“I wouldn’t know, that's why I asked.”
“You still haven’t spoken to Ayita? She’s not going to wait around for you forever, you know?”
“No, she’s…well. I’m not good enough for her.”
Christopher stopped in his tracks and turned to Kanuna.
“Not good enough? Kanuna, you just shot a mountain lion and killed it in one go and didn’t show any hint of fear. You’re more than qualified.”
“It's not that. Her father… he disapproves of me.”
“Disapproves? Why on God's green earth would he disapprove of you?”
Kanuna looked Christopher directly in the eyes and stared blankly into his gaze. In that moment Christopher understood that Kanuna’s relationship with him was what caused the animosity.
“...Oh. Well, ah… I think you should forget what that old blighter thinks and just do what makes you happy.”
“I-I can’t just sweep her in my arms and carry her off. We would get disowned!”
“Look, you like this girl, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“She likes you, yes?”
“I think so…”
“Then what's the issue?”
“What’s the issue? She’s the chief’s daughter! I would bring shame to her and her entire family!”
“You’d stand unashamed under the eyes of God.”
Kanuna rolled his eyes and grumbled.
“Oh here we go again.”
Christopher began to walk towards his destination again and moved the heavy mountain lion on his other shoulder to give the first one a break.
“Yes, here we go again. Look, forget what your chief says, take the girl, come to the church and get baptized, and then both of you get married here.”
“And then I truly emulate your God when her father comes and nails me to a cross.”
“Just a suggestion~.”
Kanuna grumbled and followed him all the way to Christopher's house. Chris made the entire thing sound oh so simple. There were hundreds of years of tradition and practice to think about. How could he hope to even consider brushing all of that aside? He grumbled and would go inside to the house, being welcomed by Annie.
Old man Connor was working on his carpentry in his barn. He wanted a brand new table and would craft it himself. Even in his decrepit old age, he was still very skilled with his tools. He stepped away from the table and sat down, becoming tired more quickly as he went on throughout the years. He took a rag out of his pocket and dried his balding head. He opened up his waterskin and took a big drink of water before exhaling and leaning his head back.
He heard a strange noise coming from outside. It sounded like the cry of an elk, but distorted. Like something trying to pretend to be an elk but fails. Its screams were warbled and fluctuated in their pitch. One might even hear other animals screaming in that horrible roar. He went outside of the barn and tried to get a look at what was making that noise. He scanned through the entire woods as far as the eye could see, yet he found nothing.
It couldn’t have been far, but he had no visual on where the noise was coming from. He marched over to his house to grab his rifle, running as fast as the old man could physically be capable of. In the house, he grabbed his rifle and began to load it in the painstakingly slow method. He started by pouring a small portion of black powder into a small pan on the rifle. The hammer of the rifle had a bit of flint attached to it, and that would strike and go into the pan, the little sparks igniting the powder and firing the weapon. He gently loaded the right amount of black powder into the muzzle. Too much and the rifle would be nothing more than a hand grenade. Too little and the led muzzleloader ball wouldn’t travel far. Once the powder was placed inside, a small piece of cloth was placed into the barrel. He pulled the ramrod off of the gun and rammed the ball and piece of cloth into the very bottom of the barrel as hard as he could. With all of that done, all he needed to do was pull the hammer back from half cock to full cock and the gun was ready to fire. Connor could not only do all of this quickly, even in his old age, but in his youth he would be able to fire four times in one single minute and could even do so on horseback.
He stepped out of his house with his fully loaded rifle and peered out. All he could see was the white of the snow and the darkened color of the trees. He took a deep breath as he tried to follow where the noise was coming from. The screaming had not ceased during all of the time he went into the house to load his rifle.
The noise stopped abruptly, and everything became quiet. No animal noises could be heard whatsoever. All Connor could hear was the sound of his own breathing. He saw something moving amid the snow. It was just as white and blended in with the surrounding. He couldn’t get a good look at the creature and lost sight of it as quickly as it first appeared. He kept his finger off the trigger until he was sure that he had the beast in his sights.
He gripped his rifle tightly, falling back into the memories of his past as a soldier. It was then that he saw it. His eyes widened and he could feel the all consuming, inescapable dread washing over him. The only reason he could see the creature now was that its hands and mouth were stained with the blood of a deer. It ravenously consumed the deer and licked its bloody fingers. The beast was pure white save for its horns. Its antlers were gnarled and had the same color and appearance of tree branches. It was inhumanly tall, and the very sight of it repulsed him.
Connor felt the tinge of fear in his heart but steadied himself. He had faced the horrors of war, and this thing was something not of this world. To Connor, this thing was a demon. A spawn of Satan that needed to be slain. He took aim directly for the creature's heart and fired. The shot rang out into the woods like thunder and punched a golf ball sized hole into the chest of the beast. It dropped its meat and let out a loud screech, yet still lived. It roared loudly and looked around. Connor blinked and saw that the creature was not only still alive, but angered, and it saw him. Connor ran deeply into the house and locked the door. After making it only a few feet from the door, a large arm burst through the wall and started searching for Connor.
The old man screamed and ran quickly, going down to the basement of his home and locking the door. He nearly tripped down the stairs as he struggled to get down. He heard the beast ripping his home apart. He looked around in his basement and tried to find a hiding spot. His aged eyes spotted an old wooden barrel and knew it was his salvation. Connor dove into the barrel and shoved the lid over it, and then punched a cork out from the side of the barrel, giving him limited access. As the creature rampaged throughout the house, The lights from the cellar grew dim and the lantern went out. After a while, the door to the cellar was thrown open and cast aside, tumbling down the steps of the basement.
Connor held his breath, keeping his hand over his mouth as he waited to see the creature. He saw it slowly crawling down the stairs, but could only see its darkened silhouette. It crawled around and tipped over tables looking for Connor. He went on the ground on all fours and sniffed. It growled as it licked the ground. It was so hungry that it was torture. So terribly hungry. It dragged its tongue all around the room, hoping for just a little taste of the old man. The creature stared at the barrel, and the old man whimpered lightly. Its large hand went over, getting ready to try to pry the lid off. The old man could see his life flashing before his eyes. The hand drew closer to the barrel. It would be all over in just a moment.
Then, the most unlikely sound came. The cows mooed. The beast stopped and lifted its head up as the cattle made their distressed noises. The monstrous beast roared loudly and charged up the stairs and went outside. Connor could hear the cattle being slaughtered, screaming loudly as the beast tore into them viciously and mercilessly. Connor covered his ears, trying not to hear his cattle being butchered so cruelly yet he dare not make a sound or sudden movement. He whimpered lightly as the cattle slaughtering lasted for a small eternity. After the last cow was killed, a great and heavy silence filled the air. Connor waited patiently, thanking God that the senseless violence had ceased. His ears were nearly pierced by the loud, guttural cry of the beast and heard it gallop away from his home. Yet he dare not get out of the barrel. Not yet. What if the creature came back? What if it was only trying to trick him? So many questions arose.
So he simply stayed within the barrel, cowering in the dark like a frightened child. He placed his hands together and mumbled a prayer.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me into the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil… I will fear no evil… I will fear…no…”