That's the point of everything, right? Love?

The words keep rattling in her skull. Skull, because it doesn't feel like she has a brain anymore. Anything she feels is so deep in her chest, it weighs in her stomach, bubbles up into her throat. 

Maybe she does love him, in her own convoluted, twisted way. Maybe it's co-dependency. Clinging onto the life raft closest to her so she doesn't drown.

The raft must be deflating. Here they are, driving towards her imminent death, and he doesn't even know it. He knew the dark places she'd been, but never the extent. How long her stay in the shadows was...how its fingers keep reaching towards her to drag her under.

Will I see Dean in Hell?

Tears spring into her eyes. No way she'd be admitted past the clouds into Paradise to be reunited with Charlie and her dead family. She's done too much bad.

The drive to Jackson, Russell laid out their game plan. Hit the wendigo tonight, go for a hike tomorrow, spend the rest of the week in the valley, then pop back home. He was giving the restaurant thing a serious thought. Why didn't he ever think of it before?

"Why's your friend think there's a wendigo in Jackson, anyway?" Russell asked. They took his truck, and the drive was free of music. His hand was on her thigh, and neither of them thought twice about it. Of course not. But the silence was sparse, as Russell hadn't stopped talking since his boot touched the accelerator. 

Katherine was reading the material her "friend" had sent her. He was an acquaintance of her father, which naturally meant everyone funneled to her when they didn't hear back from him.

No one ever said they were sorry for her loss. So everyone else thinks he's dead, too. Maybe he is this time.

She couldn't find a feeling within her stirred enough to feel sorry for him.

"Some pretty generic details," Katherine says with furrowed brows. "Hikers keep reporting weird noises in the woods, finding shredded carcasses, seeing a tall white creature. They're calling it an albino Sasquatch." She looks to Russell with dubiously-raised eyebrows. He glances at her, smirking, and snorts as he looks back to the road. Her expression turns into one of humored disbelief, eyebrows raised and corners of her mouth turned down. "I'm serious, Russ."

His fingers squeeze just a little around her knee. 

She shouldn't be letting him touch her like this. Come tonight, he'll be mourning another woman. 

She never does the fair thing.

"Bet I can find a word that starts with 'Z' before you can," he says.

Katherine scoffs and slaps her computer shut. "Bull-fuckin-shit."

Russell's laugh fills the truck cab, and in a glance, he can see competitiveness etch itself into the features of her face. 

"Albino Sasquatch," he mutters. A grin splits across Katherine's face.

"You better stick to drivin', Russell," she warns. "You drive, I do the research. That's how this shit goes."

"Oh, really?" He chuckles. "This gonna be a regular thing?"

Her expression sours a little, and her nose twitches. With a small quiver of her lip, she looks out the windshield again.

"You're not focused on finding your 'Z'."

✕

Why can't a hunt ever go the way it's supposed to? Super fuckin easy, by the book, how it went last time, all that. 

The stench of a rotting animal dragged them to a cabin. A huge, rotting cabin in the middle of the woods. The damn blow torch didn't want to blow or torch. It spat sparks, and Katherine was forced to try to use that to light some wood up and javelin the ugly thing.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins the moment they pulled up to the woods her friend directed her to. It soured to nausea when she smelled the rotting carcass. Anxiety. Maybe I shouldn't do this.

Dying was definitely on her mind while they were trying to avoid the clawed, long reach of the wendigo, but more in the light of trying not to.

Whatever suspicions Russell had solidified in his gut with one change in her body language. He saw it from across the room.

She stopped, holding an ablaze, broken piece of wood just arm's length from her body. In micro-seconds, he watched her eyes stare into that fire, watched her whole body soften, watched the determination leave her body. And when she turned, she looked right at him. 

Scared. Resigned. Remorseful. 

She looked at the wendigo, the one advancing towards Russell, and threw her silver knife at it. It lodged in its bony body, right between its ribs, and the creature let out an awful, ear-piercing shriek before turning on her. 

And she just stood there. Feet planted, arm raised, holding the fire that could kill the creature, but instead...

She was going to lose this time.

"No!" She heard Russell's roar of anguish, but she kept her eyes open, willing herself to meet the fate she decided rather impulsively, and watched that wendigo storm across loose floorboards towards her. She wasn't going to turn back. She didn't deserve it.

A jet of black bolted from the floor just before the great hand of the wendigo struck her. She only had a split second to see it before she hit the ground. 

Dizzy, disoriented, she could make out the shrieking wendigo. Snarling, growling, barking. A dog? Had to be a coyote or a wolf...what dog would be this deep in the woods. 

Her arm feels heavy as her fingers fumble for the wooden plank she torched. Katherine pushes herself across the floor by the heel of her boot to reach it, but she's just so winded. 

That's what you fuckin get.

There's a whimper, belonging to the dog-like animal she heard a moment ago, and a heavy thud across the room. The wendigo shrieks, claws curling into fists as it looks across the room. 

This stupid ass wooden plank isn't gonna do shit.

Katherine hurls it at the wendigo, javelin-style, and sprints for the blowtorch on the other side of the heath. Its roar shakes the cabin, vibrates in the air by her ears, as she tries the switch again and again and again. 

"Russell, it isn't going!" She shouts. No answer. Then, a spark. "Come ON!" A small flame. Katherine opens up the flow valve and it spits out a flame a foot long. The wendigo shrieks at her. Katherine turns on her heel and rushes the creature. She watches its massive clawed hand reach up, preparing to swipe through the air again. Aiming for the head, she pushes her weight through her feet and propels herself towards the creature. 

It knocks her out of the air, but not before the flame catches its slick skin. 

Its shriek is unlike before. Pained, panicked. Absolutely ear-splitting. 

Her elbow hits the ground first, and pain shoots up into her shoulder and collarbone, zaps into her fingers. 

With spotty vision, she watches flame engulf the tall, bony creature. Part of her heart sinks, a missed opportunity, failed objective, and then she briefly remembers the black blur she saw just moments before claws shredded her to ribbons. When the creature falls, she lets herself hit the ground, too. It's hard to breathe. Her chest feels too heavy, lungs too full.

"Russell," she croaks. 

A soft noise on the other side of the cabin.

"We've gotta get out," she says in a breath. "Before the whole thing goes up." With closed eyes and through a spinning world, she rolls onto her side and pushes herself halfway up. Her left side feels weak. It's harder to breathe. "Russell."

A small, dark mass emerges from shallow shadows on the other side of the cabin. Once firelight hits, she can see it's a dog. Dark in color, but not black. Its fur glints oddly in some spots, throwing the light off like a wet mark. It's a relatively tall dog, one that would maybe hit her knees, and slender, with a soft face. 

Katherine stares at it for several long moments, burning wendigo forgotten. The floorboards are catching. Her whole world is crashing, watching that dog stare at her, seeing Russell's clothes on the floor, watching blood slowly drip from the dog's side.

A fucking dog.

"No," she whispers. It lowers its head and starts, like it's surprised to see its legs. It lets out an odd noise. Like it's trying to talk. "No." Katherine shakes her head. Tears are filling her eyes, but she isn't quite sure if they're tears of rage or tears of betrayal. 

Russell is a shifter. 

"Get away from me," she whispers, reaching for her spare knife at her thigh. 

Silver.

The dog just stares, opening its mouth and letting out a pained noise. She'd never seen a dog look so sad before.

Her heart clenches. Sadness. Such a familiar feeling. An old friend of hers, come back for more.

Breath leaves her mouth too quickly, her heart races as she tries to stand up. Pain shoots through her left shoulder, and she rolls onto her right. That hurts less. 

She gets to her feet, bloody hand clenching her last knife, as she stares down at the dog. The dog that doesn't look like any dog she'd seen before. 

Her world spins just before it goes black.