Bound to Earth

19: My Blood Is De-F*cking-Licious

"Fuck my life." I tripped over another root. When I had last glanced down seconds ago, it hadn't been there. The sun hung low in the sky, piercing through the canopy of the trees with a blinding brightness. Yet, my toes and fingers were numb from the chill of the air.

I shielded my eyes and scanned the ground once more, looking for something. What exactly I was looking for, was a mystery to even me. I'd never hunted before, at least not in the wilderness. I preferred to hunt the monsters that blended with society, exposing them for their true selves.

This wasn't working. I wasn't a fucking hunter. Kudos to the four men living with me for their hunting abilities because mine were shit. Hell, I was sure shit could track better than me.

Thank fuck I had a back up plan.

I roamed around the forest, until the sun dipped dangerously low in the sky, until four distinct scents barely tickled my nose. At least I could find my mates. 

I paused before a small clearing of trees. The area, large enough to expose even a small rabbit if it past through. A Wendigo would be entirely vulnerable. The trees around were close enough to keep me hidden if I positioned myself right.

Out of everything I planned, bringing a knife or any sort of weapon slipped my mind. A mistake that wouldn't ever happen again. I spent the next ten minutes shifting through the forest debris, finding the sharpest rock. I had to press the rock over my forearm twice before the skin broke. Wincing, I let the blood drip down my hand and onto the forest floor. Even to my own nose, the scent was pungent, bitter.

My skin itched, the wound slowly knitting together. It'd be a few hours before the wound was completely healed. A few hours of that torturous itching. I clenched my fists to keep from scratching, else the wound would reopen and take longer to heal.

I refrained from wiping my bloody hands on my clothes and dusted them off in the soil instead. I found a tree with sturdy branches and denser leaves, and climbed it for coverage. I tucked myself close to the branch and wrapped my magic around myself, blending with the forest around me, invisible to all who relied on sight.

It was something that'd bite my ass later if the Wendigo didn't hurry. There wasn't a source of food to fill me for miles and I'd be here for another day or two. I was already beginning to tire from the overexertion.

Now came the hard part—waiting. I waited and waited and waited. I waited until the sky blended from amber to navy. Until stars and moonlight peaked through the open canopy. My muscles cramped in protest and my bones stiffened with the need to move, twitch. I was so still, so quiet, I wasn't sure I even breathed.

Out of nowhere, the forest seemed to freeze. Not a single animal, insect hummed, shifted. The breeze seemed to stop swaying the leaves of the trees and the air seemed to thicken. 

It made the first snap of a forest branch all the more exciting. 

From deep within the woods, a silhouette appeared. The figure, so frail and tall, I mistook it for another tree. Then a thin ligament moved, and another. The Wendigo weaved through the shadows of the forest at an alarming, silent pace.

If I had any common sense, I'd run. But I threw that bitch out the door decades ago. Instead I stayed put and watched, hoping my small set up would attract every creature I wanted it to.

The Wendigo stopped at the edge of the clearing, out of the light. It's emaciated arm reached to the center of the clearing, where my blood lay. Vines entwined up its arm and through the bones, like muscle, providing coverage for the bones peaking through. There was no flesh, as if it'd peeled away as the ligaments grew and stretched.