Blood and Rain

All around her the fog swirled, thick and foreboding. No birds sang. No rodents chattered. It was as though they stood as silent witnesses to some horror she had yet to stumble upon within the shadows of her home. Her nose twitched. The scent of woodsmoke began to drift through the air, tinged with just the faintest hint of blood. Soon she would be able to smell roasting meat, she was sure of it. If she approached the right way, she might be able to win some food for herself.

Above her, the caws of a conspiracy of ravens shattered the silence of the damp valley… no doubt they thought to steal themselves a bite to eat from the wasteful human, too. Yet, no other bird moved or made a sound. The seemingly endless cloud of black-winged birds passed over her, bravely shouting out their message as she watched in surprise. Perhaps they weren’t planning to snatch at scraps, after all. They flew by in groups of tens and twenties, all in the same direction, only one pausing to circle and look below.

The pine needles deadened the already soft tread of her footfalls as she pressed on, allowing her to pass unnoticed through her territory as she continued to stalk closer to the fire and its occupant. The scent of cooking meat finally reached her, getting stronger with every step. The play of light, shadows and fog obscured the outline of her form, camouflaging her should anyone or anything look her way. This was why she had chosen to make her home here among the ancient pines: ready cover, plentiful food and blissful isolation. Coming across a person this far out was unusual. People feared getting lost in a wilderness like this. The winding mountain paths and twisting rivers and creeks could take you miles out from your intended path while the canopy could darken late afternoon into an early night. One wrong step could send you off a cliff or twist your ankle. No, most people stayed to the well-worn paths and out of the wilds.

The sounds of the fire spitting and crackling each time fat dripped from the roasting meat onto the logs below now reached her ears, the scent of meat and smoke hanging thick and heavy in the damp air. Somewhere very nearby was the human who had decided to encroach on her territory. The real question was how worried she should be. Was this person friendly and lost? A poacher? She had no way of knowing and, regardless, caution was always wise.

She paused again to survey the area, keeping herself well-hidden at the same time. She was so close now that the flames caused the shadows to lurch and shift, the fog to roll away as if it feared the drying heat of the fire… but where was the human? She heard no voices, no crunch of ground under a heavy foot or rustle of items being shifted. None of the usual human sounds. She saw no figure bustling around preparing the meal.

A squirrel, startled, scurried up a nearby pine yet refrained from squawking its aggravation. Something wasn’t right. It was still too quiet in her forest, tense. The soft patter of rain started as she crouched deeper into the shadows, her eyes drifting left to right and back again. She lifted her gaze into the trees then swept them low again, lifting her nose to the air for another careful sniff. That was definitely the scent of cooking meat and only humans did that…

She shifted from her hiding place and paced cautiously around what could only be a camp, her eyes alert for any movement or sign of the human who had to be there… somewhere. Then she saw it. Swinging slightly from the low hanging limb of one of the ancient pines near the sputtering flames was a large carcass. It hung by its feet and had clearly been gutted and skinned already. It looked as if part of it had been cut away and, most likely, that piece was now cooking over the fire on a heavy iron spit. She shifted around to get a better look at the kill and froze as she saw another carcass hanging near it, also gutted and skinned but slightly smaller. Her eyes narrowed, her nose twitching as if the scent of the cooking meat was irritating. This wasn’t right. Those shapes weren’t right. She sank back into the shadows, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Both shapes were human.

Her eyes flicked nervously around the camp, still not seeing what had done the killing and cooking. It had to be a human. Only humans cook their meat. But… they don’t eat their own. They’re not supposed to. Cannibalism wasn’t unheard of, but cannibals were dangerous, no matter what species they came from. Her skin prickled, every hair stood on edge, her muscles tense and quivering in preparation to either fight or run for her life.

Somewhere to her left a twig snapped and pebbles crunched under unhurried steps. A soft humming reached her ears over the otherwise still, thick air. It sounded calm… happy, even. A self-satisfied song to accompany a self-assured stride. Her eyes narrowed again as she pressed back into the shadows and crouched as low as possible, willing her breathing to steady and her heart to calm. The man stepped into the light just then, a bundle thrown over his massive shoulder and a hood obscuring his face, but it was clearly a man. Huge and thickly built. Rusty red wires peeking from beneath the hood hinting at what must be a full, red beard.

The man shrugged the bundle off his shoulder and it landed with a heavy, wet thud on the forest floor near the fire. He took his time moving to the spit and giving it a turn as he inspected the meat. Blunt, calloused fingers reached up to push back the hood and she recoiled more at the sight. Bands of scar tissue twisted one side of his face, the eye so badly mangled she wasn’t even sure there was one in that socket but the other… oh the other was sharp and clear. A sickly hazel that was almost yellow, the eye raked over the camp making her think of a hawk looking for a mouse in a field. She wanted to move but knew she couldn’t without being caught.

The monster of a man turned away from the shadows to stoop over the bundle, peeling away the layers of filthy cloth to reveal two small carcasses, gutted and skinned like the first pair. He snagged an ankle and hauled the little thing up to hang it from the same tree as the first two. Humming again. Happy and relaxed as he went about his grisly work.

While he was turned away, she slowly slunk backward, bumping into a tree and almost hissing in fright before she managed to control her reaction. Again, she froze, watched and waited. The man made no motion to indicate he had noticed her, so she began her retreat anew. His humming followed her every step, bringing her eyes back to him, gaze locked on the sight of him hanging two small bodies next to the two larger ones.

When the man returned to the fire and drew a large knife from his belt to slice away a hunk of meat from the spit and popped the meat into his mouth, chewing and slurping noisily, she thought she might be sick. She turned in the shadows, her muscles trembling as she launched herself up from the crouch she had held for so long and ran. She kept her head down, her body angled for speed as her legs pumped, fueled by an instinctual fear of a beast that eats its own kind. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, muscles working to carry her as far away as they could as quickly as possible.

The man had not looked hungry. He wasn’t starving or sick. He had hunted not one but four of his own to feast on and at least one had been as large as him in life. No, he did not eat his own because he had to. He ate his own because he enjoyed it. Her little valley was no longer safe. The other animals seemed to know it, as well, and the world around her held a horrified hush as she fled. Still, she had to wonder where the man had come from. What brought him all the way out into her little valley? Why was he defiling her ancient pine forest? She had seen others pass through, even hunt in the area, but this was different. She would have to leave, to find a safer place to call her home.

With her lungs burning and her limbs aching, she slowed to an easier lope before settling to a lazy walk and finally collapsing into a heap of exhaustion. She listened for any sign that she had been followed but heard nothing. The birds in this area were quietly chirping and hopping along the limps of the trees. A mouse scurried over twisting roots and a squirrel squawked in annoyance above her head. Life was going on as normal around her. That, alone, allowed her to relax some. Still, leaving her known territory would not be easy or enjoyable. Here she knew where the best shelter was, where clean water could be found and what was best to eat. If she had to move on… The idea of it began to anger her. Why should she leave her territory because a monster had decided to eat there?

But if she didn’t leave, she would have to be extremely careful… or she would have to get rid of the man. Could she? He was clearly capable, strong and easily three times her size. Could she fight him? Should she try to frighten him away? It was too much for her to worry about in her fatigue, so she carried herself to the nearest shelter and curled up to rest. She told herself that she would come up with a plan when she woke.

The rain increased as she slept. The soft patter that had lulled her to sleep became a pounding roar that woke her from her restless slumber. All around her the world was black and wet and cold. Fear trailed its fingers along her spine and sharpened her senses again. Surely, nothing would be out stalking in this weather, but the disquiet would not leave her. She knew something had to be done and nature had provided the perfect cover in which to do it.

She crawled from the little den she had curled herself into and shuddered as the cold rain instantly soaked her. She knew areas around her would be flooding and the ground would be slick and dangerous. The fact that she could just barely make out the shapes of the trees around her only made her more anxious but, she told herself, he man would be worse off in these conditions. At least she hoped so.

Gingerly, she picked her way back toward where she thought the cannibals camp was. She had run long and hard earlier and hoped she had not gotten herself turned around but believed she knew her territory well enough that traveling blind would only be a minor hinderance. She tried to listen for sounds of movement around her but could only hear the roar of the rain and the occasional squelch of her own feet sinking into the mud and the slurp as she pulled her foot free again. Slowly, she made her way back. All scent had been washed away. The fire drowned, ash washing from the pit to form gray rivers that tumbled down the gentle slope of the hillside.

Somewhere above the canopy, lightning flashed, and she could just make out the shapes hanging from the ancient pine. Only three remained, swinging in the wind, the fourth lay on the ground and coyotes snarled and snapped as they tore at the flesh. Somewhere to her right there was movement. More coyotes but also a larger animal… perhaps a coywolf? It had its jaws clamped around the neck of the man though he was no longer moving. The other coyotes tore at his clothes, chewed at his hands and were clearly trying to open up the man so they could feast on his offal.

The pack was huge, she could never outrun them. Fleeing into the wet darkness would be suicide but staying put was out of the question. She did the only thing that a black bear could do in this situation… she climbed the biggest tree near the camp and went to sleep in its branches.

Miles away, in a small mountain town, a television flickered as the satellite lost and regained its signal in the heavy autumn rain. On the screen a reporter stood on a dirt path with his rain slicker pulled tight around his ears, squinting at the camera before him, “So far no sign has been found of the missing family and the search has been called off until the morning when we all hope the weather will improve. Searchers fear for the worst, however, as reports of bear attacks have increased in recent weeks. Reporting from Action Television WPKM31, I’m Rick Neville. Wishing you all a goodnight.”