BloodFang

[ItsFulgrim]

Spring had finally arrived, shaking off the eerie remnants of winter with its crisp, chilled winds. The biting cold no longer echoed through the trees. Instead, the air carried the perfume of fresh flora, and the rhythmic songs of birds perched high in the branches. Peace had returned to the woods, drawing visitors from all corners of the country. Each came for different reasons, some to hunt, some to camp, others merely seeking the simple pleasure of a nature walk.

But tonight, the forest rangers faced something far graver than an untended fire or a lost hiker.

Jeremiah Sanders, veteran ranger of Fire Tower 5, had left his post in the dead of night after reporting screams deep within the forest. He was no rookie. The years had hardened him, carved instincts sharper than most. Suggestions that the cries were nothing more than a mountain lion or some stray wild animal held no weight. Sanders knew better, to his own doom.

He searched, combing the darkened trees for hours, long enough for the stars to trade places, long enough for exhaustion to gnaw at his bones. Then, as the first glow of dawn shined in the horizon, his frantic voice rang through the radio, calling for help. A desperate plea, cut short.

When they found him, they found the camper too, the one screaming for help. But neither had been left in one piece.

The scene was something beyond description, the kind of horror that made stomachs turn and voices falter. The gore was too vile for words, so instead, the rangers called for their own help. Whatever was out there, whatever had done this, was not an animal.


-


Hours later, the Chief had secured the area. No hikers, no interference. Nothing had been touched. Now, in the quiet confines of her office, she sat across from the one person she could trust to lead the investigation through the forest.

The kid looked like a younger version of herself, sharp eyes, determined posture. She stared at him, cool and unreadable, a silent warning in her gaze.

"You understand your assignment, yes?" Her voice carried a firm edge, respectful but firm. "No heroics. No talking more than needed. No opinions unless asked. And for the love of the Almighty in Heaven, absolutely none of that ghost nonsense. Is that clear, kid?"

The young man nodded, hazel curls swaying with the motion. "Crystal clear, ma’am. But, if I may, I do have a few questions."

She sighed, arms crossed, already knowing where this was going. "Go ahead."

"You saw the scene, right? I mean, is it really that far off to think it might be something... Supernatural?"

The Chief closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if asking for patience from forces beyond her control. Then, she exhaled sharply.

"Jesus Christ, give me a patience and not strength-" She said, on the edge of anger. "Listen. We don't have time for paranoia right now, and I assure you, the investigator will have even less time for it. Ghost stories are just that- Stories. I know you're trying to help. God knows I trust you, kid. But this? This crosses a line. Respect old Sanders' memory. Let the cop do the thinking. Your job is to guide them through the forest, make sure they don't get lost. That's it."

Her fingers resumed their quiet rhythm against the keyboard, typing up reports with delicate precision. The office sat in thick silence, save for the occasional sigh from the Chief. The young man mirrored her previous posture, arms crossed, waiting.

Waiting, for this investigator to arrive, trying his best not to let anxiety win him over, an easy task, probably.

 

[illirica]

There really was nothing out here.

There was the murder, of course. That was the whole reason that Amy Lopez had come out this way, but the drive down had been quiet and filled with nothing but trees and more trees. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not. She was a city girl; born and raised there, her family history a multi-generational melting pot that left her with one of those hard-to-place appearances that people would assume meant something based more on them than her, and killer recipes for fried chicken, pasilla mole, and marinara sauce. Black hair with a wave to it that curled more when it got humid, deep brown eyes, a complexion that was too browned to be just suntanned. Like a lot of people, she probably could have been stunning with the right clothes and the right cosmetics, but Amy preferred to invest her efforts elsewhere, which was why her hair was back in a ponytail and she was in uniform.

She had a murder to think about, after all, or a few of them. For a place with nothing going on, someone certainly was getting up to something. It wasn't her first murder, or even her second, or third - she'd been a police detective for a while now. Sometimes she got surprised when they called length-of-service out and she realized how long - but she'd done Criminal Justice at community college and gone right into the force at twenty, and now she was thirty-one and her dear grandma routinely despaired of her ever finding a husband and continuing the family line. Since Amy had four siblings and eighteen cousins on that side alone, she wasn't particularly worried about the issue, herself.

She was married to the job, and she knew it even if her grandma wouldn't admit it just yet. The force knew it too, which was why she was out here - if she was going to get tapped for more promotions at this point, she needed to diversify her experiences, and that meant taking on some cases outside of the usual things that cropped up in the city. When the little town had called this one in for help from the city, she'd gotten tapped to go out there and do something about it.

Amy probably should have had a partner with her, but the whole force was short-staffed and it wasn't like the victims were going to get any more deceased at this point. They'd assigned her someone to work with from the town - forest ranger, she'd heard. Someone who knew their way around the place. It'd be good to have a local guide, but she didn't know if this person was going to know anything about not contaminating the scene, so they'd undoubtedly have to set a few ground rules.

At least it wasn't too hard to find the building. There weren't exactly a plethora of them to choose from. She parked the car and got out, squinting against the sunlight, then went inside to the blast of air conditioning, finding her way to the right room by the simple expedient of asking, and tapping on the door frame as she entered.

"Hi. I'm Detective Lopez."

 

[ItsFulgrim]

The Chief stood from her desk with deliberate care, gingerly adjusting the position of her badge before saluting the detective with a respectful nod, a force of habit rather than genuine knowledge of the other woman’s rank.

"I am Melody Williams, Chief Ranger of this zone. Please, take a seat." She gestured to the empty chair across from her, voice measured but firm. "This here is my trainee, Jasper Lanes."

With introductions complete, Williams sank back into her chair, her movements precise, controlled. She retrieved several thick files from her desk, setting them down in front of the two, angled mostly toward Lopez, who would be leading the case. The documents bore signs of hasty organization: clipped reports, printed photographs, which were not particularly well taken and barely showed the actual scene, and statements from the witnesses, the rangers who found Sanders. All the evidence that they could gather without touching the scene.

"I have much to go over, given the recent events." She continued, her tone crisp, treating this more as business than a tragic event. "Lanes will assist you however he can. He’ll provide a breakdown of what our... Let’s say, untrained eyes, managed to observe before we closed off the scene. It’s secured, and we’ve stationed other rangers to maintain the perimeter, so you won’t have any trouble with unwanted spectators."

Her sharp gaze flicked to Jasper, a silent reinforcement of his responsibilities. He sat straighter, the unspoken reminder landing with its intended weight.


"The sooner we resolve this, the better. I trust you agree."

With that, she dispatched them. The attack had occurred far from the designated trails, deep in the wilderness where vehicles were impractical. The only way forward was on foot. Jasper took the lead, guiding the investigator toward a nearby shed where supplies were stored, a necessary precaution for the long trek ahead. If night fell before they reached their destination, wandering blindly through the terrain was out of the question. Unless they wished the possibility of ending up like Sanders.

Camping gear was essential.

"Here." Jasper handed over a large backpack, his movements delicate, almost timid. "It’s a long way to Thunder Creek. Going downhill, we’ll make it before evening. Coming back uphill? That’s another story." He adjusted the straps on his own pack, ensuring everything was secure. "There’s a chance we’ll need to stop at Fire Tower 5. It’s unoccupied for now, and it’s about halfway to the mark."

He ran through the essentials: A fire starter kit, flashlight... And a careful selection of provisions. He kept his explanations light. No need to overwhelm the investigator with an exhaustive list of supplies. If she was inexperienced with hiking, frequent stops would be necessary. He had already redistributed the heavier equipment to his own pack, sparing her from carrying the bulk of it. Thoughtful as always.

"So." He glanced at her as he zipped the pack back up, eager to fill the silence. "Investigator, huh? Didn’t know you guys came into forests when things went south. Been in the forces long?"

It wasn’t long before he added another remark, already showing that he was the talkative kind.

"I’m not judging your attire, but- If I were you, I’d swap it out for something more practical. There are spare uniforms in the back. You might find something in your size. A good moisture-wicking shirt and some proper boots will do you favors out here..." He quickly corrected himself, not trying to sound as if he was giving orders. "Unless you’re more comfortable in your own gear, of course. No judgment."