𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

It had been some time since Katherine ran in snow...college. All she can think about, chasing this demon around the dark ass woods in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, is how pissed off she is because some fucking snow melted right over her trap.

How did the barn's roof buckle anyway?

So goddamn cold—

There's probably no use in chasing this thing anyway. It probably smoked out the second the trap was broken. And yet, she's chasing footprints through the snow. But these ones...Katherine slides to a stop to examine them.

Bits of gray stick to the icy snow, plumes of black ooze through the powdered parts, like ink. She crouches down with a frown and touches her finger to the gray...and then gags.

It's flesh.

Shifter?

She's never encountered a shifter to impersonate a demon...

There's an earpiercing shriek just ahead, unlike anything she's heard before. Katherine's head snaps up, and her flashlight beam scans the woods around her. She tries to listen over the sound of her own heart hammering in her ears. Takes deep, steadying breaths. Then she starts to jog, following the footprints further.

And then there's another shriek, and she takes off into a flat sprint.

Should she be going after this thing? No. She's armed with her gun and a silver knife, and she doesn't even know what this thing is. The further she runs, the more gray flash and black blood she comes across. She was so busy looking down and looking for trees, she wasn't looking for snow continuity. A bit of rock crumbles underneath Katherine's boot, and her leg goes with it. Down the side of the snow hill she goes, knee twisting awkwardly—geez, was that just a pop?— and there's nothing she can do to stop it. The snow is too soft, giving way under her tumbling weight, and she careens right across the slick ice. Ice?! Katherine's flashlight is long lost, so she wouldn't have been able to see the rock in front of her anyway.

Damn...fuckin'...stupid ass...

"Come on, Jake, you damn distracted dog." The white and tan heeler comes running towards his feet. "I follow you, dude, not the other way 'round."

Why did he have to go check his brother's traps? Ain't nothin' gonna be in 'em. It's dark as shit anyway. Probably just needed me out of the house for a little while.

He never had any judgement. After Heather, there was no where else for him to go, so Pat obviously took him in. Bachelor Pat in his Bachelor Pad. He chuckled at his own joke.

But then he heard the shriek. Bone-chilling, even in this horrible weather. He knew enough about the neighboring reservation to know it wasn't anything great, but it was his kind of bad, and there was kind of an agreement with the tribal council. Armed with nothing but a rifle—useless as a fucking pencil in this moment— and his silver pocket knife...and fucking Jake, he ran in the direction of the shriek of the two-face.

He'd only ever seen one before, and it was years ago, but he still remembers what it sounded like. Sometimes his left hand still locks up, leftover paralytic still enough, apparently. It was usually pretty transient.

He doesn't know how long he's been running for, but he's still running in the general direction of the creature, traps forgotten. That shriek meant it had someone.

And then he heard the unmistakable yelp of a woman, and he forced himself to run faster. Very hard in this soft snow, in these boots, but Jake had no problem running ahead of him. He looked at his hiking boots for a brief moment as he passed by the shoe rack at the front door and decided against it. After all, who wants to go through all the fuss of changing a pair of boots for a quick trap check?