A Gnawing Ache

I hold higher the torches I grip in each hand, driving the encroaching darkness back a bit farther. I peer into the surrounding shadows, holding my breath to hear better. The night-bound forest around me is still and silent, ominously so. I see nothing but the pale trunks of trees and thick brush, all of it patchworked with new-fallen snow. No small creatures rustle through the undergrowth between the tall oak, maple, and pine trees. No birds flutter through the cold, dark sky or cry out. The only motion is the slow fall of heavy white flakes sifting down from the blackness overhead, to vanish with the merest hint of a hiss where they touch the flames.

I draw in a lungful of the frigid air, sniffing for that strange smell, of damp moss and stone, of something slick with cold and slime, something from the deepest parts of the woods. But the only scent I can detect is the stink of rancid blood.

Transferring both torches to one hand, I reach back to adjust the ropes tied about my shoulders, tethering me to the rude travois I have fashioned. A glance at its contents reveals that my cargo is still securely lashed in place. My face falls in a scowl of bitter regret. I failed my brother, and so I bear his corpse as my burden.

We set out from Fort Pit not two weeks ago, into a stretch of the frontier that is well known, if still far from tamed. It is a journey I have undertaken every year for nearly the last decade, ever since Empire and its allied native tribes drove the French from the region, allowing men of fortune such as myself to reap the treasures of the wilderness untroubled by the conflict of European interests. Game and furs have made many of my fellow frontiersmen wealthy, though it is still far from a safe profession.

As well I now know.

On this venture, I finally allowed my younger brother, barely fifteen, to accompany me. He is… was… young for the hardships of the task, but eager, and I imagined I could look after him well enough and teach him my trade. I wish now that I had denied him, but what is done is done, and I cannot change the past. I do not even know if I can affect the course of my own future.

Somewhat reassured for the moment, I lean into the ropes, and push forward once more. I cannot say what it is that follows me, having gleaned only brief glimpses of the creature. I will say this, that if it is a natural beast, it is unlike any that I have ever heard of. Its manlike form, so strangely tall and spindly, with pale skin mottled and rough as the bark of a tree, eyes that glow from within like a fox in the firelight….

But to see it crouched over my brother’s body, its carious fangs dripping with his blood… and turn to meet my gaze with the cold, unfeeling insolence of the lowest brute animal…

I did not hesitate to unship my rifle, which I keep loaded at all times when trapping. Even so, before I could even take aim, it was gone, with barely a ripple in the foliage to mark its passage.

Were it not for my slain kin, I might have conjured the thing from my imagination.

My feet break through the hard crust of snow with each step, sounding as loud as a pistol shots to my raw nerves. The frosted undergrowth seems to cling to the rough poles of the travois, making it a struggle to keeping moving forward. The only comfort I have is in the light of the torches, the burning glow of fire. I cannot be certain, but I think the fire keeps the beast at bay.

It has been three days since that first encounter with the beast, and it has tracked me all that time. I have seen it, small glimpses, only in the darkest hours of the night. All trace of it vanishes with each sunrise, but somehow it is there again, dogging my steps, when night falls once more. I must admire its perseverance, though I am at a loss as to why it continues this pursuit. These parts are full of game, and there must be easier prey to be had. I can only assume that having tasted the flesh of a man, it hungers for more, and will not stop until it is sated.

I understand hunger. That deep, gnawing ache. When I think of what this beast has taken from me, I feel a hunger for vengeance. Even more keenly, though, I feel the guilt. Had I not given in, and allowed my brother on this journey, he would still live. In that way, I am as much my brother’s killer as is the creature that slew him. And so I will see my brother home. I will not leave him to feed this monstrosity. Then will come the time for vengeance, to sate that gnawing ache.

With a sputtering hiss, one of my brands dies out, the oil-soaked rag consumed to the point where the falling snow has extinguished it. With a muffled curse, I stagger to a halt, grunting with the effort of reaching into my pack to retrieve another torch. Some quality of the firelight frightens this creature, gives it pause, and so I prepared as many torches as I could carry. Now I am glad that I did so.

I hear a noise, the faint crunch of a footstep on hard snow. I whirl towards it, nearly losing my balance, holding my remaining torch aloft, a talisman to keep the dark at bay.

Nothing reveals itself to the light.

After a moment, I lower it again, once more scrabbling for a second brand.

Something hurtles out of the night, a blur of motion, so fast that my eyes barely register it. It strikes me, hard, sending me sprawling. The ropes fall from my shoulders, and tangle about my feet as I try to scramble back upright. The lit torch flies from my hand, lands in a snowbank, and goes out with a puff of steam.

Lying on the cold ground, face stinging from the icy snow, I sense a presence looming over me. Ever so slowly, I lift my gaze.

The creature stands there, tall and gangly, overlong limbs held utterly still, silhouetted against the snowy forest behind it. I cannot see its face, but I can only imagine that it is staring straight at me, as if daring me to make a move, to contest its right to its kill. With a swift, lurching motion, the towering form bends over the fallen travois. I hear cords snap and cloth rip. Then the creature straightens again; now it grips my brother’s body by one leg, thin fingers clutching it tightly. It moves away, dragging the limp corpse along behind it.

Hot rage boils in my veins. Will this monster give my poor brother no rest? Will it not cease to hound me until it has consumed the boy utterly?

I will not let it.

Pushing myself to my knees, I unshoulder my rifle, perform a quick check to make certain it is clear to fire. As always, it is.

Taking careful aim at the beast’s bizarrely manlike head, I cocked the hammer, and then squeeze the trigger, averting my gaze and shutting my eyes at the last possible instant to avoid the powder burn. The weapon kicks with a roar, and I swiftly look to see the results.

The creature is gone, vanished into the night once more. Again, it has left its prize behind.

I take no time to reload, nor do I bother to return the body to the ravaged travois. Casting my rifle aside, I hoist my brother’s corpse onto my shoulder, and hasten away. Perhaps I have wounded the creature, or at least frightened it with my shot. Perhaps I have bought myself enough time to gain some ground.

I am back in familiar territory, and know the lay of the land around me now, well enough to traverse it even in the dark. I am close to a deep, narrow gorge, barely a ten paces across, but miles in length. In ordinary circumstances, I would go around it, but I recall a place where a fallen tree spans the gap. It is not a safe option, and perhaps not a wise one either. But if I can reach it ahead of the thing that pursues me, I may have a chance to escape it for good.

I am breathing hard, staggering under the weight of my brother’s body. I know that I could leave it, and perhaps the creature would be content, and not hunt me further. After all, it is only a body, an empty vessel, the spirit that animated it long gone and beyond harm.

But I feel the gnawing ache. The guilt. It drives and compels me. I can no more leave my brother here to feed that creature than I can hew off my own limbs.

My stumbling flight comes to an abrupt halt: what little moonlight filters through the thick overcast shows the ground falling away before me. I have found the gorge. Now I must find the way to cross it. For that, I will need more light.

Hastily, I set my brother down. Pulling a fresh torch from my pack, I produce my flint and steel. I swear that I can feel the beast drawing swiftly closer, speeding towards me like an arrow, as I strike a spark. The oiled rag catches, and the torch flares to life. I brandish it aloft.

Not an instant too soon.

In the flickering glow, I see the creature. Not ten paces away, it stands among the trees, utterly motionless, nearly invisible with its rough, mottled skin. It seems wary, as if fearful of stepping into the full light. I see its eyes, glowing as they catch the fire of my torch. Even without making a sound, I can feel the menace coming from it, the cold, implacable hatred. And the desire, the longing. The hunger, the need to consume.

Careful to keep the torch between us, I lift my brother onto my shoulder once again, and back away. I glance behind me, checking to see that I am not about to step over the edge. There is the fallen trees, not a dozen feet away. I look back toward the creature.

It is gone. Vanished again.

I turn in a circle, waving the torch, desperate to hold the beast back, even as I make my way to the tree. With the greatest care, I step out onto the weathered wood. It settles under my boot, sagging ever so slightly with a faint creak, before stopping, firmly in place again. I can only hope that it will bear the combined weight of my brother and me. One cautious footfall at a time, I edge out over the gorge. It is difficult going, hard to keep my mind on the task, with the terrible fear of what lurks behind me.

I look back swiftly, brandishing the torch. A flicker of motion greets my gaze, right at end of the log, as if something was there one instant, and gone the next.

Turning away, I let my gaze fall on the far end. Only it is not so far now, and growing closer. I let myself believe I will make it, that I will succeed.

The log gives an ominous creak, shuddering beneath me. I wobble for a second, then find my balance again, glancing down as I do so. Far below my feet, I see the very tops of the trees that fill the floor of the narrow defile. It is a fearfully long drop, one that I would not care to experience. Breathing out a slow sigh, I look over my shoulder.

The creature stands before me, not an arm’s length away.

For what seems an eternity, we simply stand there, staring at each other. The edge of the gorge is only a few steps away, but it might as well be a mile. The beast is too fast; it will have me in a heartbeat.

The creatures shifts its weight, readying to attack, reaching out for me. The fallen tree gives another crack, then a long, grinding groan.

I cannot wait for it to strike. I whip the torch around, swiping at the creature. My attack catches it off guard, and the blazing brand explodes against the beast’s outstretched arm, sparks and fiery globs of oil spattering in all directions, sizzling as they cling to its pale skin.

Now it does make a sound, the first I’ve heard from it, a high, thin cry, a shriek of surprise and pain. It lurches backwards, twisting and writhing, long-fingered hands slapping at its burning flesh.

The fallen tree groans and shudders. Whirling, I hurl myself toward the lip of the gorge, barely clearing the end of the log, as with a final splintering crack, it comes loose. I hit the ground hard, my breath blasted from my lungs. Behind me, the log wrenches free and tumbles down into the defile, carrying the creature with it.

Gasping for air, I lever myself into a sitting position and peer over the edge into the gorge. For a moment, I see the faint glow of the flames… then all disappears into the thick tangle of trees far below, and darkness swallows everything.

Perhaps I have slain the beast; perhaps not. Either way, I must believe that I have bought myself time. I will use that time to return my brother’s body to our home, to lay him to rest.

I do not know what the creature was, or why it pursued me so long and so far. I do not know what drove it, what gnawing ache consumed it. Perhaps it was simply hunger; perhaps it was something else.

I do know what drives me. And I know that I will return to this place, to assure myself that the beast is dead. Guilt compels me to leave now; vengeance will bring me back.

To satisfy my own gnawing ache.