deer hunter, how i became a skinwalker in a world of animal people.

just a mask

The girl's body lay crumpled on the wooden porch, her head tilted awkwardly to one side, eyes wide open and staring up at nothing. Her blonde hair spread out around her, catching the pale moonlight, while her white antlers gleamed like polished bone. He couldn't stop staring at her, his breath shallow and quick. Why did it feel like this? He tried to shake off the guilt gnawing at him, but it clung to his skin like a second layer, a cold and clammy reminder of what he'd done. He had to get away from here — quickly.

He crouched down, grabbing her by the leg. His hands trembled slightly, his fingers brushing against her fur. It was soft, softer than he'd expected, and that only made it worse. He yanked her hard, dragging her down the steps. Her head bumped against each step with a sickening thud, but he didn't pause. He couldn't afford to think about it — he just had to move.

Into the woods, he thought, trying to drown out the whispers that began to stir at the back of his mind again, low and unintelligible. The wind rustled through the trees, and the sound seemed almost like hushed voices, murmuring secrets he didn't want to hear. He pulled her into the undergrowth, the brush thick and unyielding, catching at his clothes like grasping fingers. His muscles burned from the effort, sweat trickling down his back despite the cool night air.

He felt a strange sense of urgency, a need to hide her, to cover up what he'd done. Someone might come looking soon — someone who would see the blood, the disturbed earth, and know what he was. He couldn't let that happen. But as he dragged her deeper into the woods, that hunger from earlier gnawed at him again, more intense this time, like an emptiness that stretched on forever. He swallowed hard, feeling bile rise in his throat. He'd eaten just a few hours ago, but it felt like his stomach was a bottomless pit.

"What is wrong with me?" he whispered, more to the darkness around him than to himself. There was no answer, just the rustling of leaves and that low, almost imperceptible hum that he now realized wasn't the wind. It was as if the forest itself was whispering to him, trying to tell him something he didn't want to understand.

Finally, he came to a small clearing, surrounded by thick, gnarled trees that seemed to form a natural barrier against prying eyes. He stopped, panting, and dropped her leg. Her body lay there, limp and lifeless, like a broken doll. The moonlight filtered down through the leaves, casting strange, shifting patterns across her face. For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at her, feeling something cold twist in his gut.

He needed to cover her, but the brush around here was too thin, too sparse. She'd be found too easily. His gaze flickered to the trees around him, then back to the girl. Her antlers caught his eye again, and he felt that odd, insistent tug in the back of his mind. A mask, he thought suddenly, almost without realizing it. He could use her antlers to craft something to hide his face. It felt like the idea had been planted in his head, not his own thought at all.

He hesitated, then shook his head sharply. "No, focus. You need a fire. You need to make a camp," he muttered. He needed to work fast; he couldn't afford to let his mind wander. He forced himself to turn away from her and started gathering sticks and dry leaves, anything he could use to start a fire. The night air was cold, biting at his skin, and he could feel the fatigue creeping in, his limbs heavy and sluggish.

He worked quickly, his hands moving almost automatically as he built a small fire pit, arranging the sticks in a rough pyramid shape. He reached into his pack, pulling out a lighter with shaking fingers. The flame flickered to life, and he held it to the tinder, watching as the tiny spark caught and began to grow. The fire crackled, the flames licking hungrily at the wood, casting flickering shadows on the trees around him.

He kept glancing back at the girl's body, unable to shake the feeling that she was watching him somehow, even though her eyes were closed now, covered by a fallen leaf. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, dancing in the firelight like dark figures. Every creak of the forest, every rustle of leaves, made him jump, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt like he was being watched, but there was no one here, nothing but the trees and the wind.