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.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He needed to eat, to keep his strength up. He dug through his pack again, pulling out a can of beans and a small pot. He set the pot on the edge of the fire, pouring the beans in and watching as they began to bubble and hiss. The smell was sharp and metallic, but it was food, and that was all that mattered right now.
He tried to calm himself, but every time he looked back at the girl's body, his stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. He felt that strange pull again, that urge to reach out, to touch her, to…
He tore his gaze away and focused on the beans, stirring them slowly. "What am I doing?" he whispered. "This place… it's messing with my head." He needed to keep moving, to find somewhere more secure. Somewhere he could hide until he understood what was happening to him.
The sun would be up soon. He felt its coming in his bones, a creeping warmth that made his skin itch and burn just at the thought. He couldn't stay out in the open when the sun rose; he had to find shelter, something more permanent than this makeshift camp. He glanced around, his eyes searching the darkness for anything that might offer more protection.
Then he saw it — a dark shape at the edge of his vision, half-hidden by the shadows. A cave, its entrance yawning wide like a black mouth. His breath caught in his throat. It was perfect. It would keep him out of the sun, hidden from prying eyes. He could stay there until he figured out his next move.
He grabbed the girl by the leg again, dragging her toward the cave. The whispers grew louder, almost insistent, and he felt a chill run down his spine. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He had to get away from the sun, away from the light.
The cave loomed closer, its entrance a dark gash in the hillside. He pulled her inside, the darkness swallowing them both whole. The air was colder here, damp and heavy, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The whispers seemed to echo off the walls, growing louder, more distinct. He felt something brush against his ear, like a breath or a voice, but when he turned, there was nothing there.
He dropped the girl's leg and stepped back, breathing hard. The darkness pressed in around him, thick and suffocating. He needed to set up camp, to make a shelter. He fumbled through his pack, pulling out a small tarp and some rope. He worked quickly, his hands moving on their own, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't quite grasp.
Every noise seemed amplified in the cave — the crackle of the fire outside, the drip of water from the cave ceiling, his own ragged breathing. He kept glancing over at the girl, her body lying there like some offering to a god he didn't believe in. Her antlers seemed to glow in the dark, catching the faintest hint of light.
He felt that pull again, stronger this time, and before he knew it, he was reaching for his knife, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. The idea of the mask came back to him, more insistent than before. He needed to hide his face — needed to look like them, to blend in. The thought felt like his own and not his own at the same time. He knelt down beside her, his knife in hand, and began to see.
in the shadow of the cave
The knife bit into the base of her antlers with a grinding sound, the metal scraping against bone. He gritted his teeth, sawing harder, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. The work was harder than he'd expected — the antlers were thicker, more solid than they looked. He felt his hands start to ache, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
The whispers grew louder, surrounding him like a chorus, murmuring in a language he couldn't understand but somehow felt deep in his bones. The shadows seemed to dance at the edges of his vision, flickering in the dim light from the mouth of the cave. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and for a moment, he wondered if the shadows were moving on their own.
The first antler came free with a snap, and he stumbled back, almost dropping it. He stared at it in his hands, feeling its weight, the rough texture of the bone. It felt strange, holding it like this. A trophy, maybe — or a tool. He set it aside and moved to the second antler, his movements mechanical, almost automatic.
As he sawed, his mind wandered back to that moment in the porch light, the way she had looked at him before he pulled the trigger. Her eyes had widened, not with fear, but with something else — recognition, maybe, or disbelief. It was as if she had seen something in him that he hadn't seen himself, something monstrous.
Am I a monster? he thought, and then shook his head, trying to clear the thought away. It wasn't his fault. He was just trying to survive, to get home. But the thought lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind like a hungry animal. The second antler came loose, and he set it down next to the first, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
He picked up one of the antlers again and studied it in the dim light. It was heavier than he'd expected, the curve of it was smooth and elegant. He could almost see the girl in his mind again, her head tilted back, the moonlight catching in her blonde hair. He shook his head sharply, trying to dispel the image. He didn't need to think about her now. He had work to do.
He pulled a wooden bowl from his pack, one he'd taken from a house days ago — it would have to do. He took his knife and began to carve into it, his hands moving almost of their own accord. The wood was old, dry, and splintered easily under the blade. He cut out two eye holes, jagged and uneven, and then paused, frowning. He would need a strap to secure it, something to hold it in place.
Digging through his pack, he found an old leather belt and cut it into strips, fashioning a makeshift strap. He attached it to the mask with a few crude knots, pulling it tight until it held. But it wasn't enough. He needed more — a mouth, a snout. Something that would make him look more like them. He would have to work on it later, when he had more time, but for now, it would do.
He held the mask up to his face, staring through the uneven eye holes. The wood was rough against his skin, the smell of it sharp and earthy. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction, a flicker of pride. This was good. This would help.
He lowered the mask and turned his attention back to the cave. He still needed to set up the rest of the shelter, to make sure he was secure. He found some stones and arranged them in a rough circle, making a fire pit in the center of the cave. He gathered more sticks and leaves, anything that would burn, and piled them in the pit. His movements were hurried, frantic — every rustle of leaves outside, every distant crack of a branch made his heart skip a beat.
He took out his lighter again, the flame flickering in the dim light, and held it to the tinder. The fire caught quickly this time, flames rising up, casting long shadows on the cave walls. He watched them dance, his eyes flicking back and forth, his hand resting on the handle of his knife. He felt a chill run down his spine, and he turned quickly, scanning the darkness for anything that might be lurking.
He was alone. He knew he was alone. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him, something just out of sight. He tried to ignore it, trying to focus on the tasks at hand. He took out his sleeping bag and spread it out on the cave floor, far enough from the fire that it wouldn't catch but close enough to stay warm.
He rummaged through his pack, pulling out the food he'd scavenged earlier — some jerky, a few cans of vegetables, a half-eaten loaf of bread. He picked at the food, not really tasting it, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't quite hold onto. He kept glancing over at the girl's body, still lying there in the darkness, her empty eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"Should I bury her?