Ethan barely slept for the remainder of the night.
After discovering the mutilated deer on the porch, every sound outside the cabin seemed amplified. The creaking of tree branches, the distant rush of Black Creek flowing through the darkness, and even the occasional gust of wind scraping against the cabin walls felt threatening. Several times he caught himself staring toward the windows, expecting to see glowing red eyes watching from beyond the glass.
Morning finally arrived in a dull gray haze.
The storm had passed, leaving behind a cold mist that hung low over the forest floor. Ethan stood on the porch with a cup of coffee in one hand and a growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.
The deer remained where he had found it.
Daylight made the scene even worse.
Deep gashes covered the animal's body. Bones protruded through torn flesh, and the wooden planks beneath it were stained dark with blood. Ethan had seen the aftermath of bear attacks before. He had hunted long enough to know what predators could do.
This wasn't a bear attack.
The wounds looked too deliberate.
Too violent.
Almost angry.
A sound behind him caused him to turn.
A sheriff's SUV pulled into the driveway and came to a stop beside his truck.
Moments later, Sheriff Mason Reed stepped out.
The older man's face immediately darkened when he saw the carcass.
"Dear God."
Ethan folded his arms.
"Looks familiar?"
The sheriff approached slowly.
For several seconds he examined the remains without speaking.
Then he sighed heavily.
"We need to get rid of this."
Ethan studied him carefully.
"That's your response?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"The truth."
The sheriff straightened.
His expression grew tense.
"I don't know the truth."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Mason rubbed a hand across his beard.
"No."
The honesty surprised Ethan.
For a moment neither spoke.
The mist drifted silently through the trees surrounding the property.
The forest felt strangely quiet.
No birds.
No squirrels.
Nothing.
As if every living creature had decided to stay hidden.
Finally Ethan broke the silence.
"My father told you something before he died."
The sheriff nodded.
"Yes."
"You said he believed something was watching him."
"I did."
"What exactly did he say?"
The older man's gaze shifted toward the woods.
"When Samuel came to my office, he looked terrified."
The admission immediately caught Ethan's attention.
His father wasn't the type of man who scared easily.
"He said he'd been hearing noises around the cabin every night."
The sheriff paused.
"He thought someone was trespassing at first."
"And?"
"He started finding dead animals."
A chill ran through Ethan.
The deer suddenly seemed far more significant.
"How many?"
"Three deer. Two coyotes."
The sheriff looked uncomfortable.
"And a hunting dog."
Ethan stared.
"A dog?"
Mason nodded.
"Belonged to one of the farmers outside town."
Neither man spoke for several moments.
The implications were difficult to ignore.
Whatever was responsible had been active long before Samuel Carter died.
Long before Ethan returned home.
The realization made his stomach tighten.
A sudden buzzing interrupted the silence.
The sheriff's radio.
Mason immediately grabbed it.
"Reed."
Static crackled.
Then a panicked voice erupted from the speaker.
"Sheriff, we've got a problem."
The urgency in the voice was unmistakable.
"What happened?"
A brief pause followed.
When the dispatcher spoke again, her voice trembled.
"It's Tyler Jensen."
Mason's face went pale.
Ethan noticed immediately.
"What about him?"
"His truck was found near Pine Hollow Road."
The dispatcher swallowed audibly.
"He's missing."
The sheriff closed his eyes.
For a moment he looked exhausted.
Not surprised.
Exhausted.
As if he had been expecting this call.
"Stay there," he said. "I'm on my way."
The radio went silent.
Ethan's pulse quickened.
"Who's Tyler Jensen?"
The sheriff looked toward him.
"Twenty-three years old."
His voice sounded grim.
"Works at the mill."
The older man hesitated.
Then added quietly,
"He disappeared sometime last night."
The words hung heavily in the cold morning air.
Neither man needed to say what they were both thinking.
A missing man.
Another attack.
Another victim.
The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.
An hour later, Ethan found himself standing near Pine Hollow Road alongside half the town.
Police vehicles lined the narrow dirt road.
Several volunteers searched the surrounding woods.
The atmosphere felt tense.
Fearful.
Whispers spread among the crowd like wildfire.
Everyone knew something was wrong.
No one wanted to say it aloud.
Tyler Jensen's truck sat abandoned near the edge of the forest.
The driver's door remained open.
Mud covered the tires.
At first glance, it looked as though the young man had simply stepped away.
Then Ethan noticed the blood.
Dark stains covered the driver's seat.
More stained the ground nearby.
His stomach twisted.
Search teams moved carefully through the woods.
Sheriff Reed organized volunteers while deputies photographed the scene.
Ethan remained near the truck, studying the surrounding area.
Something felt off.
Then he saw it.
Tracks.
Large tracks.
Pressed into the mud several yards beyond the vehicle.
His heartbeat immediately accelerated.
The prints looked exactly like the one in the photograph.
Canine.
Massive.
Impossible.
For several moments he simply stared.
Then another searcher's voice suddenly echoed through the forest.
The scream froze everyone in place.
People turned toward the sound.
The man emerged from the trees moments later.
His face had gone completely white.
"What is it?" the sheriff demanded.
The searcher struggled to speak.
Finally he pointed into the woods.
"Over there."
Nobody moved.
Nobody wanted to.
The fear spreading through the crowd had become almost tangible.
Eventually Sheriff Reed started forward.
Ethan followed.
The group pushed through dense undergrowth and crossed a shallow ravine.
Then they entered a small clearing.
The sight waiting there silenced everyone.
A torn flannel jacket hung from a broken tree branch.
Blood covered the ground beneath it.
Deep claw marks scored the trunk itself.
The cuts stretched nearly six feet above the ground.
As though something enormous had risen on its hind legs.
The forest remained silent.
Completely silent.
No birds.
No insects.
Nothing.
Ethan slowly looked around.
Every instinct told him they weren't alone.
That something was nearby.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then he noticed something attached to the bark.
A single strand of dark fur.
Long.
Coarse.
Almost black.
Sheriff Reed noticed it too.
The two men exchanged a glance.
Neither needed to speak.
Because they both understood.
Tyler Jensen wasn't lost.
He had been taken.
And somewhere deep within the endless forests surrounding Black Creek, the creature had just claimed its second victim.