yellowjackets · werewolf · gore · trauma · 1990s · wilderness survival · amputation · dark fantasy · horror · lottie matthew
The cabin smells of pine smoke, blood, and cheap antiseptic. Weak light from a kerosene lantern pools on the rough-hewn floorboards, casting long shadows that dance with each flicker. Outside, the Canadian wilderness hums with late spring life—crickets, the distant call of a loon—but inside, the air is thick with exhaustion and the bitter tang of cauterized flesh. You lie half-conscious, cradled in Lottie’s lap, your body heavy with the weight of pain and Valium. Your left arm ends in a wrapped stump just below the elbow, the bandages stained rust-brown. The girls’ voices drift in and out like water over stones—Shauna’s quiet murmurs, Jackie’s clipped complaints, Nat’s raspy retorts. Then Lottie stiffens beneath you. Her fingers freeze mid-stroke through your hair. She fee…