The crisp autumn air bit at Jake's cheeks as he trudged through the fallen leaves. The woods were eerily quiet this deep into the wilderness, the only sound the crunch of debris under his boots. He pulled his flannel jacket tighter against the chill and glanced up at the canopy of yellowing leaves above. Jake and his two cousins, Ty and Cole, had driven up to the remote cabin in northern Michigan for their annual hunting trip. They'd been coming to these woods every fall since they were kids. But this year felt different. An ominous feeling hung over the forest, like a storm brewing on the horizon.
The boys had risen before dawn to get an early start on their hunt. But they'd been out all morning without spotting a single deer. As the sun crept higher in the pale blue sky, Jake suggested they split up to cover more ground. The three of them often hunted alone, using whistles to communicate if they took down a buck. Yet when Jake whistled for the third time in the last hour, signaling the others to join him, only the echoes of his call reverberated through the trees. Unease prickled at the back of his neck. Where were Ty and Cole?
Jake slung his rifle over his shoulder and hiked uphill, retracing his steps. He paused every few yards to whistle and listen, but heard nothing except the wind rustling the branches around him. Then a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, raising every hair on Jake's body. He broke into a sprint, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under low-hanging branches. That was Ty's voice, Jake was certain of it.
He found Ty crumpled at the base of a large oak, clutching his right leg as dark blood seeped between his fingers. Jake dropped to his knees beside his cousin, ripped off his bandana and tied it around the gaping wound in Ty's calf.
"What happened?" Jake asked.
"I saw something in the bushes watching me," Ty gasped through gritted teeth. "I thought, It was a deer so, I lined up a shot. But when I pulled the trigger, this thing just tore out of the brush straight at me. It was so fast, Jake. It ripped right through my leg before I could even swing my rifle around."
Jake helped Ty stand, letting his cousin lean heavily against him. "Where's Cole?"
"I don't know. We got separated an hour ago."
Jake swallowed hard. If that thing had attacked Ty, chances were high it had gone after Cole too.
They hobbled along together through the woods, calling Cole's name. Jake's heart pounded against his ribs. Where was Cole? Was he lying out there injured like Ty? Or worse?
Finally, they came upon Cole standing motionless in a small clearing. But something was wrong. His face was frozen in a mask of sheer terror, his rifle dangling useless in his grip. He stared straight ahead but didn't seem to see Jake and Ty approaching.
"Cole!" Ty shouted. "Cole, are you okay?"
Their cousin remained rigid, oblivious to their presence. Jake followed Cole's fixed gaze, then pulled up short. Crouched at the far side of the clearing was a hulking creature unlike anything Jake had ever seen. It appeared vaguely humanoid, but its slender limbs were impossibly long and tipped with vicious looking talons. Coarse brown fur covered its elongated limbs and torso. But its face was the most terrifying — a skeletal snout with rows of jagged teeth jutting from a lipless mouth. Deep-set eyes glowed red, boring into them with predatory hunger.
The wendigo.
Jake had heard the chilling legends around campfires, but never imagined the mythical beast was real. Yet here it was, coiled and ready to strike.
Jake raised his rifle, aiming right between its glowing eyes. But before he could fire, the wendigo shot forward with stunning speed. Jake shoved Ty out of the way as razor-sharp claws sliced through the air, missing his face by inches. He tried to swing his gun around, but the creature was too fast. It swiped again, ripping Jake's rifle from his grip and sending it flying into the brush. Defenseless, Jake scrambled backward as the wendigo stalked toward him. It let out an unearthly shriek that filled Jake with bone-chilling terror.
This was it. The wendigo was going to end him, just as it had poor Cole. Jake braced himself for the killing blow.
Suddenly a gunshot exploded through the trees. The wendigo jerked as the bullet tore into its torso. It let out an enraged howl and whirled toward the source — Ty propped against a tree, gripping Cole's smoking rifle.
Ty fired again but missed. The wendigo crouched, ready to pounce on the injured boy. But a third deafening crack split the air before it could move. The creature's body went rigid, then toppled over into the leaves.
Jake gaped at the felled beast, then over at Ty who gave a pained grin. Ty had made an impossible shot with his non-dominant hand while badly injured himself.
Jake rushed over and pulled Ty into a fierce hug. "You did it! I can't believe you killed that thing!"
Ty nodded wearily as Jake helped him up. "Let's get the hell out of these woods."
Together, they stumbled away from the grisly scene. Jake cast a final glimpse over his shoulder at the wendigo's lifeless body. He had no doubt the legends were true. But at least now there was one less monster lurking in the northern wilderness.