![]() Out of all three options, the rock outcropping would provide the best shelter from the storm. Studying wildlife activity and prints left behind by the beast, Carter had determined that he mainly resided in sector C- the meadow-, sector B- a rock outcropping at the start of the mountain- and sector D- a creek leading down to a larger lake. Time to examine checkpoint B.Ĭarter was no geographer, but he had roughly sketched a map at home, dividing the forest and hunting grounds into different sectors. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder and spat into the snow. Carter prayed that his hiding spot was nearby. Perhaps he had evaded the storm elsewhere. However, his search ended up less successful than he had hoped. He had seen the beast once, so he knew that it was no fairy tale, and ever since then, it had become his unhealthy obsession to find and kill the bastard. With a disappointed grunt, Carter stood up and continued along the meadow, scanning his surroundings again. None of them seemed to have been in a rush. A few young elks must've crossed the meadow earlier. After he checked his surroundings one more time, Carter made his way onto the meadow to examine them. The meadow was barren, though Carter could see a few spots in the snow, indicating that there had been some wildlife around. He stayed in the cover of the trees, slowly making his way to the steep side of the meadow. He left massive paw prints in the snow, deeply embedded, already demonstrating just how big- and thus dangerous- the wolf was. Not that the meadow was usually considered particularly dangerous, but before the storm, the meadow had been the most recent location of the wolf's whereabouts. At times the investigation was over quickly if a bloodied boot was still left behind, but other times, all that remained was a bloody mess, a skeleton picked bare or worse.Ĭarter pulled the rifle off his back. The beast took the bodies apart so badly that no one was able to identify who the body belonged to. Only if a hunter would not return were they able to identify the carcass. It wasn't unusual for a group of hunters to go out for a week, without a warning, but in most cases they tended to return. Usually it took a week-long investigation to identify the deceased. None of the victims seemed to have stood a chance. The most recent victim was a wanderer who had strayed into the wolf's territory. Seven hunters- a number which intimidated even veterans such as Carter- as welll as a mother with her child. So far, he could still count the number of casualties on both hands. Now after the snow storm, all previous tracks had been covered, meaning that if he should be lucky to find the wolf's paw prints, they'd be very very recent. With a grumpy snivel, Carter wiped his hand over his nose and studied the forest ground. His sturdy coat was doing a good job keeping the cold at bay- tailored from tough bear skin, a beast he had shot a decade earlier and still the coat served him well. It wasn't particularly windy, but the cold was numbing his hands and face to the point that he could barely feel anything anymore. The forest was quiet, the only sounds Carter heard were the crunching of snow beneath his boots and the occasional chirping or fluttering of birds. "It won't be long," he repeated, kissed her on the forehead and slipped out of the door, rifle on his back.Ĭarter brushed his hand over his moustache, trudging through the snow with slow steps. "Fine," she said but kept her frown on her face," But if you're still out at sundown, I'll lock the door and then you can sleep with the pigs." Carter knew that she wasn't exaggerating. No matter how hard she tried, she could never convince her stubborn, thick-headed husband to stay at home. Mathilda sighed and stared at a spot on the ground beside Carter. "It won't be long," he said instead,"Just a quick check of the area and I'll be home for dinner early tonight." He stopped talking when Mathilda raised her brow in disbelief. "Nah, I just," he fumbled with the words and cleared his throat," I spotted a herd of. He stopped and sighed, putting on a thin smile. "Don't tell me you're going out hunting that damned fabled wolf again," Mathilda lamented, crossing her arms as he headed for the door. The snow storm receeded and Carter picked up his rifle, swinging it over his shoulder in one smooth, experienced motion. ![]()
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