Now none of this probably would’ve happened if it wouldn’t the dead of winter.  Old man Kenny-Ray had been bachin up in his cabin on his property in the middle of the woods for nye on 50 years, and anybody would think that he’d have had sense enough to put back some stock to see him through, since he had to know there wouldn’t no way he could have got to town even if he’d had the money to buy supplies.

    Back in those days there wouldn’t no grocery stores, not like we have now.  The closest anybody got was probably down at Eddie’s at the head of the holler, but he had to order in his stock, and the whole town traded there, so come the big snows, he’d get cleaned plumb out.  Once the ice set up on the roads, most folks just hunkered down and waited out the two months that got real bad, living off the canning they’d done at harvest, and the game that could be found running through the hills.  Them jackrabbits would still come out, god knows why, at dawn and dusk, and if a body got desperate they could probably scrounge up enough to see them through till the snow thawed.

    Kenny-Ray lived up there in that cabin all alone, no wife to cook for him, no younguns to help with the hunt, and come the end of December he’d got through everything he’d managed to raise in that little garden.  He was getting pretty hungry as he tried to stretch the last of his cured venison, and it was on one cold day that it run out completely.

    Now he had three old hounds that had been with him as long as anybody could remember, Youknow, Iknow, and Calico.  He swore that as old as they was, they could still flush rabbits or tree coons, and he wouldn’t about to let them starve to save himself.  He shared everything he had with them dogs, and must have loved them like they was his own kin. He knew them hills, having lived there so long, and he knew that there had to be rabbit warren close by- the critters had got into his garden in the spring and near destroyed his greens.

    So with the snow soft on the ground he put on his thickest coat, his winter boots, and grabbed his rifle, and went out to see what he could find.  He was surprised when he had been out for hours, and the sun started to set, and none of the dogs had even caught the scent of a rabbit. There had to be a warren somewhere.  He knew it. The critters weren’t going to travel for miles and miles just to get into his garden.

    He was a little more hopeful as the sun set- rabbits tend to come out at dusk, and the rumble in his belly spoke of desperation.  He didn’t need to find the warren tonight. If he could get one jackrabbit he could stew it down to a broth and keep them alive to hunt another day.  So he was as happy as could be when Calico put his nose to the ground like he’d finally caught something.

    Soon the other two latched onto the scent as well, and as they walked through the woods, darkness fell around them.  Kenny-Ray lit the old lamp he had brought and closed the tin around it so that it would only give off the faintest light- just enough to see by, but not enough to alert any critters that he was coming.

    He was surprised when the dogs started whimpering.  They were brave hounds all three, and never gave him no trouble.  He’d seen all manner of critters out in them woods- bears, cyotes, wolves- and them dogs never did back down.  They’d defend their property with their lives, and their dedication was enough to scare off any critter that caught sight of them.  So when their ears and tails drooped, he knew something was wrong.

    Kenny-Ray raised his lantern to follow the dog’s eyeline, and his blood froze in his veins.  He suddenly knew why there were no rabbits anywhere to be found.

    Sitting in a tree was the biggest mountain lion he had ever seen, easily as tall as a man if it stood on its hind legs.  The thing wasn’t gold like most of them cats, but so jet black that it blended in with the shadows and the night sky, and only the glint of its glowing eyes and the white of its teeth were visible in the lanternlight.  It was halfway through the corpse of a rabbit, and the blood from the kill dotted the thing’s teeth as it opened its mouth and let out a terrifying hiss.

    Kenny-Ray wasn’t stupid.  He knew better than to run from a big cat.  If you run, the logic went, the thing would chase you down.  It stirred up their predator instinct. No, what you had to do was convince the thing that you weren’t worth their time, that you would be so hard to catch that the thing might get hurt or die in the chase, and it would move on to easier prey.

    He saw how big it really was when it moved.  The cat dropped the rabbit, which fell into the snow in a blood soaked heap of flesh, and hunkered down as if it were going to pounce.  It made a sound like a whine deep in its throat, and it’s long tail curled over its back for balance. Kenny knew that if the thing caught him, his life would be over.  It was the biggest he had ever seen, and those claws and teeth sparkled in the lantern light, sharp and deadly.

    He knew he had one shot.  He dropped the lantern in the snow, raised the rifle, and the crack of the gunshot filled the air.  Usually, that would be enough to scare off any critter, and he didn’t know how good his aim was, but he must have hit it, because a bloodcurling shriek filled the woods.  The dogs caught up with the noise, filling the air with their own barks, much more confident now that Kenny-Ray had shown that he was willing to protect them.

    They say that the sound of a painter is just like the scream of a human woman, and if Kenny-ray hadn’t known that, he would have thought he had killed somebody.  He heard the rustle of the trees as the scream died away, and knew that the cat had fled. But he wasn’t stupid enough to stand there and wait on it to come back.  He grabbed the lantern, happy to see that it hadn’t gone out, and went to collect what remained of the rabbit.

    Lying near the carcass was a long black shape, almost a tube, dripping blood.  As he approached, he could see the fur, and figured he knew what it was. He had shot the cat’s tail clean off.  If he wasn’t so hungry, wasn’t so desperate, he probably would have left it there. He’d never heard of nobody eating painter meat, but half a rabbit wouldn’t stretch very far between a man and three dogs, and he was hungry, was desperate.

    So he picked up the tail with the rabbit, and with his dogs on his heels, he made his way home.

    His little cabin had been well put together when he built it, and it kept out the biting cold as he built his fire.  He set straight to work skinning the rabbit, and the dogs made a meal of the innerds. For his part, he dressed the meat and set it in a pot over the fire to stew.

    Skinning a tail was about like skinning anything else, and he left the meat on the bone as he threw that, too, into the pot to stew.  His stomach growled as he prepared the pelts, getting what he could from both kills, and thought over how lucky he was to have survived the encounter.

    Once the loyal dogs had had all there was to eat, they laid down by the fire, stretched out in the warmth, and Kenny-Ray stretched out the pelts to dry.  He thought over how he’d never seen a painter pelt, and wondered if, little as it was, he couldn’t still get a pretty decent price for it down at Eddie’s once the snow thawed out enough to make it down the mountain.  If he could make it down there and get a couple sacks of taters, he could probably make it through the rest of the month without putting himself in danger. Plus, he didn’t like the idea of a big cat like that just running around out there.  His closest neighbor was old widow Hutchison, and her old man had died three summer’s back, and with their littlest married now, she didn’t have nobody to stay with her. If that thing came down to her house, lured there by the chickens she kept, it was likely she wouldn’t be able to fight it off.

    No, he’d have to try to make it down to Eddie’s and warn the others that the cat had left its den.  Folks needed to know. And he was sure he could sell that pelt, just for the novelty if nothing else.  As much as he hated to go to town, he’d have to try it. There just wouldn’t nothing else for it.

    He thought over this trip as he ate his humble stew, and wondered just how much anybody could expect to get for a piece of fur so small, given what a rare kind it was.  He let his mind get away from him when he remembered that all root vegetables tended to be pretty affordable, and would keep pretty well. He never was much for gardening, but he made up his mind that come spring he was going to set up a good one this time, rabbits be damned.  He was dipping the last few dredges from the pot when the dogs all three jerked awake at the same time and sat bolt upright, ears and tails twitching.

    Kenny-Ray followed their eyes to the door, but he heard nothing.

    He drained what he could from the bowl and set it down to see if the dogs could get something he had missed, and walked to the window.  He lifted the curtain and looked out at the soft snow falling, coating the ground in the darkness.

    There was nothing out there, but the dogs began to bark as if there were someone at the door.

    “Yhall settle down,” he told them, “There ain’t nothing-”

    A loud BANG came from the door, and he jumped.  He looked out the window again, but he couldn’t see the porch, the door was on the other side of the house.  There was no way someone had come all the way up there this time of night, not in the snow. There was no reason for it.

    Another bang came from the door, and all three dogs stood, hair on end, faces low to the ground, haunches raised, growling so loudly it was difficult to think.  Whatever was out there, they didn’t like it.

    “Who’s there?” Kenny-Ray asked as he took down his gun from where he had placed it over the door.

    To his surprize, a woman answered.  Of all people, there was absolutely no reason for a woman to be wandering the woods, alone, this time of night, in the snow.

    “Let me in,” She said with authority, as if she owned the house and he had no business there.

    “Who are you?” He asked again.

    “Let.  Me. In.” She ordered.

    “Who are you?” he demanded.

    “Taily-po,” The woman said in a voice that implied she thought it was an explanation, “Taily-po.  You have got my taily-po.”

    Kenny-Ray had heard tell of women who could do all manner of black magic.  He knew what a witch was. He hadn’t been to church in some time, just couldn’t get down to town, but now he wished he had.  He had an old wooden cross hanging up beside the door, to ward off witches and demons, and he stared at it as he answered.

    “I ain’t got your taily-po,” he said, and willed his voice not to shake, “I suggest, mam, that you just be moving right along.  These woods ain’t no place for a lady to be wandering at night.”

    There came another loud BANG on the door, and the whole cabin shook clean to its foundation.

    “Taily-Po!” The woman demanded, “Taily-po!  Give me back my taily-po!”

    The dogs lit in with a cacophony of barks and howls and growls, but still the woman shook the door, and still she screamed, trying to be heard over them, demanding to be let in.  Kenny-Ray knew that if he didn’t do something, she was liable to burst the door down, and woman, witch, or demon, he was not going to let that thing in his house.

    He threw the door open and raised his gun, but there was no woman.  There was nothing outside but the freshly fallen snow. He dropped his eyes to the ground, and saw the pawprints that circled the house, that ended at the door, and that doubled back to lead into the woods.  Before he could stop them, all three dogs bounded from the house, following the tracks for the treeline.

    “Yhall get back here!” Kenny-Ray hollered as the yipping and barking of his dogs faded away to nothing.  He stood in the doorway looking down the sights of the rifle for some time, but there was nothing but the wind in the trees and the cold of the snow, and eventually his fingers began to go numb, and he stepped back inside and closed the door.

    Kenny-Ray had an old bible that had once belonged to his mother.  He wasn’t much for reading, but he pulled it out, and pulled his chair up to the fire, and listened as best he could.  His dogs were smart, and he figured that they’d chase the critter, whatever it was, until they were sure they had run it off, then they would turn around and come home.

    They wouldn’t fight it.

    They had more sense.

    He opened the good book at random and tried to read.  It was getting late, but he knew he wouldn’t think about a bed, not knowing that his dogs were out there in them woods with god knows what.  He had just about made up his mind to put on his coat and boots and go after them when he heard the scratching at the door.

    He picked up the gun and moved cautiously, but the scratching continued as he made his way slowly to the door.

    “Who’s there?” He asked in a shaky voice.

    Whimpering answered him.

    He threw open the door, and Iknow and Calico stared up at him with mournful eyes.  They limped into the cabin, and Kenny-Ray stared out at the trail of blood that dotted the snow from the treeline to the porch.

    “Youknow!” he hollered into the wind, “Youknow!  C’mere boy! C’mon! Youknow!”

    Calico’s heartbroken whimper convinced him to shut the door.  He had limped to the hearth, and was lying in a puddle of blood.  KennyRay took one look at him and grabbed the soup pot. He darted outside and kept his eyes on the woods as he filled it with snow.  He thought he heard a voice, far away and on the wind.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    “Taily-Po...  Taily-Po... Give me back my taily-po...”

    He filled the pot quickly and rushed back inside.  He set the snow on the fire to melt and boil so he could clean the dog’s wounds.  Calico was licking at a giant gash in his side, and Iknow was hiding under the table, whimpering in such pain that Kenny-Ray was scared he was dying.  He gently coaxed the hound out, only to discover that his tail had been bitten clean off.

    He boiled rags from his ragbag until he was sure they were clean, and cleaned and wrapped the wounds as best he could, but Iknow was bound and determined to rip the dressing off no matter how Kenny-Ray tied it, and he eventually left him to tend himself when he was sure that he had gotten the bleeding to stop.

    They passed a few more hours in silence, Kenny-Ray trying to read and the dogs dozing lightly by the fire, when Kenny decided he wasn’t doing himself no favors by staying up all night.  The best thing to do would be to try to get a few hours sleep before dawn, and then in the morning he would lock the dogs in the house and take himself down to Eddie’s. He’d let everybody know about the wildcat and get himself some supplies, and maybe he wouldn’t need to go out for a couple more days.  He might even see some kind of game on the way and get them a few days worth of meals out of it.

    He turned down the covers, added more fuel to the fire, and the three of them snuggled down to sleep.

    He woke up to a loud banging on the door.  The house was lit only by the flickering firelight, no hint of sunshine came in through the window, so it had to still be the middle of the night.  Kenny-Ray sat up and grabbed for the rifle, and both dogs rose with him, hackles high and fur stuck up all on end.

    Another bang shook the cabin and Kenny waited for the rumbles to stop before he asked:

    “Who’s there?”

    “Taily-Po,” there was an animalistic growl to the voice now, not exactly human, “Taily-Po.  Give me back my Taily-Po!”

    “I ain’t got your Taily-po!” Kenny-Ray swore, and held the rifle high, “I ain’t got it!”

    “Taily-po!  Taily-po! I know you’ve got my taily-po!”

    “I don’t have it!” Kenny-Ray promised, “And if you don’t move yourself on along, I’m gonna be forced to defend myself.”

    The house shook with the force of the pounding, and Kenny-Ray threw open the door.  The porch was empty, but he thought he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, scampering up to the roof.  Both dogs darted out the door and began sniffing around, and no matter how Kenny hollered and called, they ignored him, and barked and growled and threw their heads back to look up, or pressed their noses to the snow.

    The biggest painter Kenny-Ray had ever seen jumped from the roof and took off into the woods.  He shot at it, but it was as black as the shadows that covered it, and he heard no scream. He cursed as the dogs took off running after the creature, and spun around to get his coat and boots on before he ran after them.

    He held the lantern in one hand and the gun in the other as he ran in the direction he thought he had seen them go, but it was no use.  He hunted around those woods for hours, calling their names, whistling, promising them food and warmth and love, but he never saw either of those dogs again.  Eventually, he had to give up and go home. He knew they were gone, and he knew that if he didn’t secure himself, he very well could be gone too.

    It was with a heavy heart that he locked the door and rebuilt the fire.  He got back into the bed, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. His poor dogs had been so loving, so faithful, had been just like family to him, and in one night that thing had come out of the darkness and taken them from him as if they were nothing.  He would have given anything to have never set eyes on the demon.

    He sat there, trying to remember a real prayer, as the snow fell softly from the blackness above to the blackness below.  The clouds blocked any light that would have come from the stars or the moon, and the silence made him uneasy. It was as if nothing existed in that sheet of white but him and his crackling fire.  It was as if this little cabin was all alone in the world, the one thing on a white canvas.

    Another loud BANG shook the cabin, and Kenny sat bolt upright, clutching the gun and trained it on the door.

    “Go away!” he begged, “Go and leave me in peace!”

    “Taily-po,” the monster reminded him, “Taily-po!  Give me back my taily-po!”

    “I can’t!” Kenny explained, “I would if I could but I can’t!”

    There came no answer.  There were no more knocks, and no more force shook the cabin.

    For a blessed moment, Kenny-Ray thought the creature had left him.

    Then he heard the scratching on the roof.

    The scratching quickly turned to clawing.  He heard the rip of shingles being pulled free, and watched the wood above him splinter.

    He raised his gun and fired, and thought he saw the glint of one shining eye through the hole.  But there was no scream, no yelp, nothing to indicate that he had hit his target, so he fired again, and again.  He heard the scampering as the thing darted around the roof of the cabin, and tried to anticipate its movements, but it’s hard to do anything with a cat on a roof, and he was kneeling back on the bed when he heard the trigger click-

    And nothing happened.

    As if it knew what was happening, the creature chose that second to leap in through the window.  The glass shattered and went flying through the cabin, and Kenny-Ray jerked open the cabinet, moving quickly, fumbling for the bullets, but one giant paw dug itself into his back and dragged him to the floor.

    “Taily-po,” The thing was no longer pretending to be human, its voice held no trace of humanity, “Taily-po.  Give me back my taily-po!”

    “I can’t!” Kenny-Ray felt death pressing into him and watched the razor sharp teeth move in the creature above him as it growled in response to his answer, “I don’t have it!  I don’t have your taily-po!”

    “Taily-po,” the monster argued, “Taily-po!  Give me back my taily-po!”

    “I ate it!” Kenny cried, “I can’t give it back!  It’s gone!”

    The creature threw back its head, and the cabin shook with the roar it let out.

*    *    *

    Eddie looked up from where he had been standing at the counter, comparing what was written on the invoice to what he had actually unloaded from the crates when the bell above the door tinkled.  It was old widow Hutchison and her youngest boy, Bobby-Gene.

    “Now you get whatever you want, mama,” Bobby told her.

    Eddie thought of how Mrs Hutchison had looked in her youth.  She had been beautiful, but that beauty had left her after twelve children and a difficult life.  Her back bent, her hair had once been black as coal but now was grey and coarse, and much finer than it had been.  Her tanned skin had hardened from years under the sun, and age spots covered her hands and face, the only parts of her that weren’t covered by thick layers of fabric to keep out the cold.

    Eddie supposed he shouldn’t judge.  He probably didn’t look much different.  Used to be, he could jump a fence without trying.  Now he’d be lucky to jump an inch. Just unloading those crates had killed him.

    “Hey, Bobby,” he nodded in his direction, “How’s your wife.”

    “Big as a house!” Mrs Hutchison proclaimed proudly, “I think she’s due in February, ain’t she, boy?”

    “That’s what she says,” Bobby agreed, looking more frightened than proud.

    “It’s going to be a boy!” Mrs Hutchison proclaimed.

    “Now how would you know that?” Eddie asked.

    “She did that ring thing,” Bobby explained, “I told her it was just an old wives tale.”

    “It ain’t just an old wives tale!” Mrs Hutchison spat at him, “I done it with all twelve of my younguns and I was right every time.”

    “Alright, Ma,” Bobby rolled his eyes.  He approached the counter and lowered his voice, “I’m trying to get her to come and stay with me.  Lilly tried to get her to come up her house, too. She ain’t needin’ to be out there in that little house all alone for the rest of the winter.  People said that they spotted a whompas cat up that way.”

    “Have they?” Eddie’s eyes widened, “Well you can’t leave her alone up there then!”

    “She won’t come, and I can’t leave Abbie and her in the way she is.” Bobby-Gene explained.

    “Well no, you can’t do that,” Eddie agreed, taking in the expression on the boy’s worried eyes.

    Bobby ran a hand through his coal black hair and traced those eyes to his mother, pottering around the shop.

    “Can you talk to her, Eddie?  Tell her to come stay with us?”

    “I reckon I could try.” Eddie shrugged and put on his best fake smile as Mrs Hutchison stepped up to the counter with a full basket.

    “Now I’ll be needing some flour and sugar too,” She said, pointing at the sacks behind the counter, “And some yellow corn meal.  My corn just didn’t come in real good this year. Then rabbits got to it, I reckon.”

    “Now Mrs Hutchison, your boy here tells me that you ain’t willing to spend the winter with him?  You know this is that girl’s first youngun. She’s gonna be needing you to help her through it.”

    “Well, now, honey I would,” She said sincerely, “But I hate to leave the house alone up there.  I got all them chickens and the dogs and my poor little cat, and you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve had with thieves.  I’ve caught people up hunting on my property and I just know it’s only a matter of time before they break into the house.”

    “Ma, you can’t be fighting off hoodlums by yourself,” Bobby said with annoyance, “You need to come stay with us.”

    “Honey, I would, but I ain’t gonna lose everything I own,” She sighed, “Been a tough winter, ain’t it?”

    “Sure has,” Eddie agreed, and leaned in to whisper to Bobby, “You oughta go by ol’ Kenny-Ray’s place.  Tell him he needs to come over and check on her. If you absolutely can’t get her to leave.”

*    *    *

    Bobby and his brother Billy decided to hike up to old Kenny-Ray’s when neither of them, nor their sister, who lived by right close, nor any of their other kinfolk, could convince their mother to stay out the winter with them.  They reckoned they could maybe trade out staying with her, but all of them had families that they needed to be watching, and the snow just wouldn’t let up long enough for anybody to do anything. If something happened, and the system they had worked out fell apart somehow, it couldn’t hurt a thing to have old Kenny-Ray stop in and check up on her.

    Old Kenny-Ray had been baching so long it probably wouldn’t hurt a thing for him to spend some time with a lady like their mother, though neither brother mentioned that as they made the hike to his cabin.

    What they saw froze them to the spot.

    The cabin was gone.  Nothing was there but a pile of rubble and a chimney.  It didn’t look exactly like it had burned down, more like it had been torn apart.  They had heard stories of twisters tearing places up like that, but twisters hardly ever touched down in the mountains.  The roof was completely gone, and only a few support beams stood, and the porch threatened to collapse when the brothers stepped on it.

    They made their way into the house, and noticed that something had gone through there.  The table and chairs were broken and splintered, the mattress had been ripped apart like someone took a knife to it, and all the furniture looked as though someone had shattered it with an axe.

    “Oh my god, Bill,” Bobby said, and his brother came running over.

    What was left of old man Kenny-Ray lay on the floor.  Something had ripped him open from throat to groin, and his torso was left flayed open like a deer.  His sternum had been splintered to fragments, and his ribs were pried open. His intestines had been drug out and partially severed in several places, and his stomach was straight- up missing.

    “Lord have mercy,” Billy covered his mouth with his hand.

    “Recon it was that painter?” Bobby asked.

    “Maybe?” Billy shuddered, “Or a bear?”

    The boys pulled their coats closer and huddled in their body heat, watching the snow land on the corpse.

    “What a way to go,” Billy lamented.

    “I reckon,” Bobby agreed.

    “We oughta call the law,” Billy said, after a few minutes of silence had gone by, “There’s a phone down at Eddie’s.  They need to look at this. Let folk know.”

    “What happened to the house?” Bobby said as if it were a proper response to what his brother had suggested.

    “You recon a big bear could rip a house apart?” Billy asked.

    “I don’t think so,” Bobby rubbed his gloved hands together.

    “We need to get outta here,” Billy reminded him, “We don’t want to be around this kinda stuff come nightfall.”

    Both brothers turned their eyes to the sky, where the sun was dipping below the hilltops.

    “You’re right as you can be about that,” Bobby agreed, and turned to leave.

    Billy stared down at the corpse until his little brother tugged on his arm.

    “Poor feller,” Billy mumbled.

*    *    *

    The police figured that some kind of wild animal probably did all the damage.  Folk had been seeing a painter up that way for the last little bit, and it’s possible that if Kenny-Ray was cooking, the creature could have smelled the meat and sensed the heat and come in after both.  The cops found an empty rifle and a spilled box of bullets, so it’s possible that Kenny-Ray tried to defend himself, but there’s just some things that there ain’t no defense against.

    There was nothing to be done about it, Kenny-Ray didn’t have no kin, so when the taxes came due, the government went up and repossessed the land, but they didn’t never do anything with it.  It wouldn’t a big enough plot on its own, and everything else round that way is owned by the Hutchinson clan. They say that the chimney and part of the porch is still up there if anybody cared to look at it, but there wasn’t really no reason to.

    The younger children say that though their family forbids them from playing near the old cabin, they often do.  They say that sometimes, especially in the winter, if you go up there at night, and the wind blows just right, you can hear the voice of a woman, a voice that they all feel they almost know.  But the thing it says makes no sense to any of them.

    “Taily-po.  Taily-po. I went and got my taily-po.”