The conversation died in the wind and Ashley backed away from the pit.

It’s better this way. People complicated things. No matter how many times she tried, the more people there were, the harder it was to survive.

She tugged her sweater closer and let out a steady breath. Head southeast, follow the river. Hole up by the lake then keep moving. If her pursuers kept up she hoped she might be able to lose them deeper in the valley, maybe make it all the way to the water. Ashley could guess where a few boats might be tucked away. It was a risk, but something to work towards, somewhere to run.

A snap crackled the air behind her. Ashley stopped. It wasn’t the wind, as nothing else around her moved.

Waited too long.

In her dawdling, her pursuers must have picked up their pace and closed the distance. There were mere moments to weigh her options and she reviewed her mental map. _East side of the river? _She traced the lines from memory; seven months prior, she’d trudged through the Green Belt. Seven months was a long time and the landscape could have changed. River’s didn’t move but ridges, paths, bridges, and trails could be remade and overgrown.

She heisted and her fingers flexed. All directions in the dark would prove perilous in a hurry. Her mental map useless, she couldn’t keep lying to herself. They wouldn’t give up. She wasn’t going to make it to the lake, not easily.

“Don’t move,” the man barked from ahead.

While Ashley had watched from the shadows, she’d memorized their names and faces. The big one was Laurence and she guessed he was their leader from the way he talked to the others. Laurence issued orders and his words were final. He’d seemed comfortable in the wilds, and only two types people ever were: the cautious and the callous.

Tish pushed through the brush to stand next Laurence, machete in hand. A smile glimmered on her lips barely visible in the dark. Though thin, she was a wiry knit of muscle. Fast, Ashley guessed. Lethal, more likely.

Behind Ashley, there was more movement. Two more makes four. She didn’t turn to know it was Reid and the mouthy one, Shannon. Would it be easier if I didn’t learn their names?

“Hand’s up.” Shannon inched towards her, his gun level with her shoulders.

“Ashley fucking Cazalla.” Laurence chuckled with his shotgun dangling limply from his arm. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I thought I was pretty clear.” She turned to glare at Reid, who lingered behind Shannon. “You won’t find what you’re looking for. Go the fuck home.”

“You don’t remember me.” Laurence stepped forward without an ounce of hesitation. He clearly wasn’t scared of her or her threat by proxy. Maybe Reid didn’t sell it enough. Maybe I should have cut him a bit to convince.

Ashley sighed. “I’m not-”

“Six months back I was out this way. Little further East if memory serves.” He went on as though they weren’t in the thick of the Rouge, as though there wasn’t any threat in the green around them.

“Pretty sure I don’t give a shit where you were six-”

“Teag was leading us then. Tall guy, big ass shoulders, and a scar running here to here.” Laurence dragged his finger down the left side of his face and it conjured a man from memory. Tall, like he said. Didn’t talk half as much as Laurence, though.

“He was smart. He could take a hint.” Ashley narrowed her eyes and faced Laurence head-on.

He chuckled and inched closer. “He was a coward. A few gruff words at the edge of a knife isn’t enough for me to scamper off.”

“What, think we wouldn’t call your fuckin’ bluff?” Shannon laughed with Laurence, though his voice remained significantly lower.

Laurence motioned at Tish. “Cuff her.”

The young tracker fished out a pair of cuffs from her jacket and approached Ashley. “Not interested in this going hard,” Tish said. The anxiety that Laurence lacked oozed from the woman, though she still inched closer. “So just do us all a favour and don’t-”

“Hurry the fuck up,” Shannon bitched behind them.

He was right. Laurence was completely right. Ashley had flashed a knife and hoped they’d run, but why? What was one person compared to the things everywhere? And what were they promised this time? How high did the reward go? A sick curiosity gnawed at her and fixed Ashley in place. Deep, far below the curiosity, the fear, something else stirred. Maybe it’s finally time to just give-

A scream cut through the trees and everyone froze. Not the howl of a wendigo, not the cry of a man. A child, a shrill scream of sheer terror.

“It came from the east,” Reid said, almost as though he didn’t know he spoke.

The river.

A breath followed, the quick intake of shock that she held onto. They’re just kids. The embers burned in her memory with little smiles circling. It’s not my fault. I can’t…

She sucked in a second breath. Ashley needed the oxygen, needed the cool to fill her. There was no way she was going to pass this chance up.

With a sidestep, Ashley evaded Tish and the cuffs. Before Tish could pull the machete from her belt Ashley pushed her back into Laurence. The gunman at her back swore but didn’t pull the trigger.

A pair of hands reached for her but she was fast, faster than they could have guessed. She ran full tilt into the dark of the brush. Paying no mind to the path, tree branches slapped and sliced her cheeks and tugged at her clothes. Though the brush remained thick, debris littered the ground. But still, she ran hard and fast, away from the sounds of screams.

Can’t save everyone.

The sturdy root caught the toe of her boot and shattered Ashley’s balance.

Falling, down a slope no less, she blindly tumbled through the brush. When she finally came to a stop, Ashley curled to a ball on the ground. Everything ached, head to ankles, but she managed to right herself. Her clothing matted with leaves and dirt but she didn't waste the time in dusting herself off. Pushing to her feet she turned and swore.

Four wendigos lumbered from the sparse tree line toward the river bank. Though the things were cast in the shape of man, so little of what was familiar remained. Skin hung loose and sagging from desiccated muscle. Flesh was rent and torn in all manner of fashions and the angles at which bones were bent was sickening. Each one decayed differently, but the stench remained the same. Mouldering tissue that, even after years of exposure, still oozed and dripped. What made them people was gone from their eyes and only that hunger, that infectious mission, spurred them on. To consume. To consume everything.

The wendigos drew nearer the flames. The fire was brighter than she was used to and it cast large shadows on the trees. Like a signal, it called the creatures but with squealing people close, there was something more alluring within grasp.

Two grown men stood with weapons, two women behind them with blunt tools. Beyond an older man, another woman, and the collection of children cowered on the edge of the river.

I can still run. Ashely checked for her pack, its weight temporarily forgotten. It was still there and in it she carried all she would need. I can still get away.

Shouts on the ridge above her told her the trackers weren’t far behind. No time to waste on those that can’t be saved. But fresh blood on her cheek worked against her.

Two of the creatures turned from the morsels by the river.

“Fuck.” Ashley reached to her pack and pulled the hatchet free. With a few swings to loosen her wrist, she slowly led the two wendigos from the pack, lest they double.

The closest on the left made a staggering lunge for her. It was slow enough that, even disoriented from her tumble, she swiped her foot out. Her boot met the creature’s shin and it tipped over. Its leg bent in the wrong direction and the snap of its brittle bones breaking crackled. Loose flesh clung with clothing to the degrading muscles. The face of a woman, distorted by decay and violence, looked back with empty inhuman eyes. It gave a brutal howl of pain that Ashley quickly silenced with the blunt end of her hatchet and a single sickening crunch of its soft skull.

The sound of a wendigo dying turned another of the creatures. The one remaining by the bank grappled with the tallest man.

I could run, she told herself, but Tish emerged from her last open flank and rushed the wendigo nearest Ashley. Tish’s machete sung in the air, swiping into the creature’s leg. Blood hit the sand and stones, thick clotted lumps dripping from the stump where a leg had once been. It teetered and decaying hands reached for Tish, but she evaded its grasp.

Ashley brought the hatchet down onto the second skull, silencing its mashing maw.

In silent agreement, Tish moved onto the third creature as her three partners emerged behind. But north of the fire pit more wendigos lumbered, drawn to flame and sound. In a matter of minutes, there would be half a dozen more.

Those armed on the bank tried to block the beasts that made for the children, but they were clumsy and ill-equipped. And a horde threatened to form.

A shot thundered beside her and Ashley’s ears rang. Laurence’s double-barrel blew apart one of the creatures that came too close. He grinned and reloaded his gun.

“Steven!” Ethan’s mother screamed, her voice barely heard over the ringing. Ashley turned in time to see one of the creatures grasped tightly onto the tallest man in their group. Though muffled by the wendigo’s body, his wail echoed on the sandbank. Ethan’s mother ran for the thing, metal shovel brandished in hand. She brought it down hard on the rotting skull, a crack breaking through the agonizing scream. Over and over she hammered down until nothing moved. Not even the man.

The screams were too loud. Her voice, his cries, the gunshot. The colour drained from all their faces. While Laurence cursed beside Ashley, the woods began to groan.

There were more in the trees. There were always more.

Ashley looked between the faces around her. Children. Families. Trackers. Even if chaos broke out, a horde descending, there was so little chance she could survive. Not alone.

“Fuck…” She looked to the kids and sucked in a breath. “Get in the river!” Ashley yelled and a few of them looked in her direction.

Ethan and Wendy stood frozen, eyes looked with the lump of flesh beneath their mother’s shovel.

“Ethan!” Ashley used his name and the teen looked up. “Get them in the fucking river!” The shock drained from his face and he rushed the kids into the water until they were all waist-deep in the swift current.

Tish, Shannon, and Laurence finished off the creatures nearest Ashley with a skill almost matching her own.

“Behind!” Reid shouted from beyond the fight.

Ashley frowned. Why the hell isn’t he helping?

The breath, stinking of rot, exhaled from useless lungs. It brushed on the back of her neck and the icy grip of sticky, bloodied fingers reached out hungrily. She spun, hatchet in hand, and hacked through the arm of the creature. Instinct had her push the monster away with her boot but she teetered in failing balance. Too far back.

By the dying fire, she stumbled into the waiting wendigos arms. Their hungry hands clutched at her. She swung her hatchet and it dug into the skull, pulverizing what was left of the brain. It was dead, truly dead, yet her weapon got stuck in the meat and bone.

The second wendigo took hold and bit down.

Ashley's eyes widened. There was pain but more than that, a primal fear. She managed to stifle her cry by biting her lip hard. Chipped teeth ground into her shoulder and ripped at the flesh. The wendigo pulled to take a chunk with it, to eat what bled between its teeth. Ashley’s fist slammed back into the skull and her fingers pried the jaw from her shoulder. The wendigo staggered and a shot split the creature's head. Blood, brain, and skull showered on her pack.

Fighting dizziness and shock, she tried to catch her breath. The sounds of the other wendigos dying faded against the heartbeat pounding in her head. Blood seeped from the torn flesh into her dark sweater.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Shannon yelled.

“Reid, get the girl. Shannon, make sure the rest are dead. And be quiet about it.” Laurence sneered in her direction.

Reid finally entered the fray. He ran to Ashley’s side and pressed his hand down on her wound. She couldn't help but groan at the pressure. What little energy she’d had was already draining. It would be a matter of minutes before she passed out.

Shovel in hand, Ethan’s mother approached with crazed eyes. “We have to kill her,” she demanded through silent tears. Her shovel, stained with blood and hair, trembled in her hands.

Have to get away. The thought urged Ashley to move but Reid kept a firm grip on her shoulder.

Laurence lifted his shotgun and stepped between Ethan’s mother and Ashley. “That's not your problem, Mam. We can handle this.”

A quick shout from the vulgar Shannon brought all eyes on him. He pried one of the wounded creature’s fingers from his arm. “Goddamn wendigos,” he hissed.

“You got that, Shan?” Laurence nearly yelled.

“Yeah, I fucking got this!” Shannon grunted with each swing of his baseball bat until the body no longer stirred.

“She's infected. In no time she'll be like them.” Ethan’s mother inched nearer. That look in her eyes, that unsettling and familiar mania frightened Ashley more than the exhaustion that waved from her shoulder. “We have to-”

“Lady’s not wrong. We should get the hell out of here,” Tish warned. Cleaning off her weapon in the water she looked ready with her eyes locked on the trees.

“You can't leave us.” Ethan stepped forward but was quickly hushed by one of the women.

Reid’s grip tightened on Ashley’s shoulder. “We need to move, Laurence. No telling how many more will show.”

Laurence closed his eyes tight before shaking his head. A weighted sigh escaped him. “Tish, pack them up.”

She hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between Ashley, Laurence, and the children. When he didn’t correct her Tish shrugged and turned to the survivors.

“What the hell, Laurence, fuckin’ tourists? Might as well paint ourselves red and play tag with the hungry fuckers.”

“Shut up, Shan. You're not here to think.”

Shannon opened his mouth to protest but shut it. He gathered up the packs and supplies.

“She has to be killed,” Ethan’s mother started again and Ashley wondered if her voice could get any louder. The infection was spreading as tendrils of sick coursed under her skin with aims of sapping her strength. Need to get away from these people. Need to…

“Now is better if you want your friend to-”

Laurence spat and shook his head. “She's not our goddamn friend.”

His discerning eyes inspected Ashley’s shoulder like she could see the wheels in his mind turning. If Laurence wanted her dead they wouldn't have brought handcuffs, but the thought wasn't much comfort. A shiver shook her and her knees started to buckle. Thankfully, Reid slipped his arm under her shoulder and took the brunt of her weight.

“She's already turning!” The woman pointed with the shovel. “Just what the hell do you plan to do with her if she turns?”

“She's not your problem,” Laurence snapped. He looked passed Ethan’s mother to the kids behind. “If you and yours want to live, you follow our rules. Rule fucking 1: She doesn't die. Go it?”

Ethan’s mother followed Laurence’s eyes to those still alive in their group. With a silent nod, she lowered the shovel.

“Smart choice.” Laurence lowered his own weapon. “Clean yourselves off, fill up on water, and be ready to go in five. Before we go, you give us your weapons or we leave you here.” He was blunt and cold but Ashley knew they had little time. The scent of blood would travel and, with the screams and gunfire, any wendigos that could move would come. They always came.

Reid held a cloth to her shoulder trying to staunch the blood. First the weakness. Then the vision. She blinked through the encroaching blur.

“It doesn't look good, Laurence.” Reid held up her face to his. The last thing she saw before her lids shut tight were Reid’s blue eyes, cold as ice.