Page 64 of Finding His Fox

Instinctively, I reached for my bangle, but it was gone. Shit. Did I leave it in my truck? Fall off my arm? I looked around frantically and couldn’t seem to find it.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling sound above me. I shielded my eyes against the sunlight, trying to get a better look, but I couldn’t see anything.

I tried to recall if Cal had mentioned anything about wendigos being active during the day, but my mind drew a blank, clouded by fear.

Think, Nate. Think!

Night. All the attacks occurred at night. I took one last look at the canopy overhead before continuing my search for the bangle, desperately hoping it was on the forest floor.

Still nothing. I cursed under my breath.

Cal’s cabin shouldn’t be that far away. I was pretty sure we walked through this path the other day, after the camp. I needed to get to Cal’s place fast, to get me and Max to safety.

Max! Where was he?

I spun around, scanning the surroundings for Max. I felt a shudder of fear shoot through me.

I smelled the wendigo before I even saw it, a vile, putrid stench that sent shivers down my spine.

I heard Max hissing from somewhere, sensing danger.

“Run away, Max!” I tried to scream at him, but the words couldn’t come out.

Slowly, the wendigo emerged from the thicket of trees. Its single eye fixated on me, glinting with bloodlust.

Panic surged within me. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to escape, but I tried to steady myself and remembered Cal’s words.

Assert your presence. Show confidence. Look formidable.

Sweat trickled down my forehead and my hands felt clammy. I didn’t matter.

I clutched my camera tightly, the strap firm in my grip. My eyes focused on the wendigo’s every movement.

Adrenaline coursed through me as I swung the camera like a flail, striking the wendigo’s shoulder.

It snarled in response. That only seemed to annoy it. It came closer, forcing me to take a step back, carefully maintaining a safe distance between us.

I struck again, aiming for its head this time. The wendigo growled louder. I tried to keep it at bay with my swinging camera, but it was too fast.

In a blur of movement, the wendigo snatched the camera from my grasp, which left me stupidly holding just the strap.

Why wasn’t any of this working?

Because this wasn’t just some wild animal, you dolt.

This was a wendigo, a supernatural entity with its own set of rules and abilities. I needed to change my strategy.

This time, I planned to misdirect it somehow. Kick some dirt or fallen leaves in its face.

If this worked, I could then sneak up from behind and use the camera strap to strangle it.

The wendigo, as if it knew what I was planning to do, changed tactics and went for my legs, sinking its claws into the flesh of my thigh.

Agonizing pain surged through me. I let out a piercing scream. Max’s distressed yowls echoed behind me.

“Run, Max!” I managed to shout, finally finding my voice.

The wendigo’s grip tightened, digging its razor-sharp claws deeper into my thigh, causing the pain to intensify.