Five  Years Ago

(Jenny's P.O.V.)

It was cold and windy, a fire danced in the hearth, warming the house. I stumbled towards the kitchen and reached into the fridge. I grabbed the milk and poured a glass. Mom and Dad hadn't come home. Although I was eighteen already I couldn't help but be worried. Brushing it off I walked over to the couch and pulled out my book of mythical creatures. The wind howled outside and the pitter patter of rain started to fill the quietness. A creak on the stairs caused me to turn my head. Chris, my sister, stood at the top. At sixteen she still seemed to act like a child.

"Hey Chrissy," I muttered turning back to my book.

"I told you not to call me that!" She snapped sleepily. I chuckled and continued to read. Chris sat at the opposite end of the couch and turned the T.V. on.

"You do know that it is nearly midnight and there will be nothing but junk on, right?" I caught her roll her eyes and lean back into the couch.

"There's bound to be something on." She countered. I glanced up from my book when I heard a strange howling sound. We lived in the countryside about and hour away form Killinghall. Standing up I padded over to the window and peered out. Trees surrounded us on all sides and I was starting to get a chilling feeling. Something darted towards the front door and I screamed. Chris was off the couch in a second.

"The door! Block the door!" I shrieked, but before I could get there the door was smashed to pieces. Before us stood a strange mutant orc looking thing. It had long bony fingers and I tried to dodge it as it swiped at me. It grabbed my leg and I screamed. Not a second later Chris had kicked it in its face. I scampered towards the fire. Surprisingly it didn't come anywhere near the fire and stayed in the darker parts of the house. A moment later a loud bang ricocheted off the trees and the creature jerked sideways.

"Gun." Chris whispered. Chris and I had taken our hunters safety course in America when I was fourteen. Since then we had gone hunting hundreds of times. I motioned to the stairs that led upstairs and to the attic where we stored out guns. Chris nodded and started to crawl to the stairs when the creature fastened his eyes on her. I sucked in a breath of air and grabbed the fire poker. I placed it in the fire. As it heated up I gently pushed her to the stairs. She was halfway there when the creature ran to her. Fast as lighting she bolted to the stairs while I yanked the fire poker out and stabbed it.

I was struggling with the strange creature when I saw our mom and dad stumble through the front door shouting, covered in blood and wounds. Fear and horror registered on their faces and they both raised guns. The creature retaliated and turned on them. I watched in misery as the creature ripped them apart. A strangled cry escaped my throat as I slumped against the floor. Two shots rang out and the creature ran out of the house. Chris stood at the top of the stairs holding a Remington Model 1100. Her face was pained and twisted in anger upon seeing out parents.

Later we found out that the thing that had killed our parents was called a wendigo. We would grieve, we would search, and we would hunt.