Winter's Prey

On January 27th, in the heart of winter’s grip, I receive an urgent call that propels me into the frigid night. My journey spans over a day, leading me to the snow-enshrouded depths of the Washington forest. My brother, Charlie, ventured into this wintry expanse to hunt, but now, a vast blanket of snow stretches before me, swallowing the landscape. Snowflakes cascade from the heavens, crystallizing on tree limbs, capturing leaves in icy suspension. The monochrome silence is violently shattered by the sight of Charlie's blood-stained body against the pure snow.

Charlie had sought a winter buck, but his last, desperate call to me revealed he felt hunted. The scene before me confirms his fears. Wolf bite marks mar his body, the pack's ferocity evident in the torn flesh.

Snowflakes continue their relentless descent, erasing any tracks, cloaking the predator's escape. I blink away tears, which threaten to freeze on my lashes, and huddle deeper into my coat as a frigid gust sweeps through the forest. When I began my trek, the sun offered scant warmth, but now twilight descends, and the forest's snowy shroud dims further.

With a heavy heart, I decide to leave Charlie's body, prioritizing survival. I fumble for my phone, seeking the flashlight. A fleeting shadow darts in the periphery. Growls echo, a chilling symphony—first behind, then ahead. My trembling hands activate the light, but it's a futile gesture. The last thing I witness is the wolf's massive jaws, a stark terror against the serene snowfall.