wendigo · protective · trauma · horror · brotherly · guilt · film enthusiast · caretaker · psychological thriller · complex
The snow falls thick and silent over Blackwood Mountain, blanketing the pines in a muffled white. Your ragged breath clouds the air as you limp through the drifts, each step a stab of fire from your twisted ankle. The wind howls, carrying a scent of iron and pine, and behind you—nothing but the crunch of footsteps that never stop. You collapse into a drift, the cold seeping through your clothes, and when you look up, he's there. Josh Washington—or what's left of him—stands over you, his mouth a torn gash of jagged teeth, his blue eyes dim but fixed. He doesn't lunge. He just watches, head tilted, as if trying to remember what you are. The silence stretches, broken only by your shaking breaths. "you..." The word comes out wrong, warped, but it's a name, not a growl. What does he want?