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."

 

[illirica]

Williams seemed like the sort of woman who was on top of things. She had the mark of someone who kept track of a lot of information, probably mostly in her head, with printouts for backup and the sake of other people. They were good printouts, Amy thought. She could respect that.

The young man she was being paired up with was new - some might have seen that as a disadvantage, but Amy had a sneaking suspicion that Williams had done it on purpose so that the kid wouldn't be trying to take over the investigation. She appreciated it - the last thing she needed was someone who thought they knew better screwing up the procedure. As long as the kid was competent with the area, that was good enough for her - and if he was a local, as she suspected, he'd probably have plenty of experience running around the woods even before he'd signed on as a ranger.

Amy looked up from the documents for a moment when the other woman mentioned having the place locked off, with an appreciative nod for the effort. Cordoning off the place where things had gone wrong was one of the most important first steps, otherwise everyone and their mother wanted to wander in and see what happened for themselves. "Thanks. Investigation isn't a spectator sport."

Williams also didn't hold them back for useless staff meetings. Sometimes meeting people was important, but in a situation like this, getting to the scene quickly was critical; getting introduced to everyone out here much less so. Amy followed the kid - Lanes - out towards the storage shed, taking the pack he handed her and setting it on the ground, opening it up and looking through it. It seemed pretty good, likely a standard kit that they kept packed for anyone who might need to grab one. That would make sense. He'd taken on a lot more weight, but if he was willing to do it, Amy was going to let him. If he looked like he was flagging, she'd have him hand something over.

"I've been in the force for eleven years," she answered the question. "And we don't usually come out this way, but my supervisor knows I'm looking for more experience, broadening my horizons, that sort of thing." If he put two and two together and figured out that meant shooting for a promotion, good for him, but if not, it wasn't like it mattered all that much at the current point in time.

"I have my own civvies to change into, don't worry." It was more urban than hiking focused, but there seemed to be a decent amount of overlap at least until one got to the professional level, Amy noticed. Still, cargo pants, good socks, good boots, moisture-wicking shirts and layered jackets were a decent start in most places, and she'd wanted to make sure she had something that fit her properly. "Uniforms are good for talking to people, but not as much for traipsing around the woods. Although, they're more practical than you'd think." Officers did have to be in them all day and be able to move pretty well, but still. As long as she had her badge with her, the rest was just window dressing.

Amy took a moment to go back to her car and pick up a few things she wanted to add to the pack - extra hairties, because she always needed them and sometimes people didn't think to pack them, some extra socks and underthings out of her own pack before she got changed, meeting up with Lanes again after calling back to the station and letting them know she'd made it here and what the plan was - it was important to make updates, especially because Amy suspected that the phone signal out there might be in the bad-to-nonexistent category, and she needed the force to know where she was.

Hopefully Lanes had made good use of his time - or maybe he'd just read a book for half an hour, who knew? She adjusted the pack until the straps felt right, keeping the weight up on her shoulders and not down on her back.

"Have you been out at the scene already?"

 

[ItsFulgrim]

Lanes listened closely, absorbing every word with keen interest. He would be lying if he claimed that forensic science wasn't something that fascinated him immensely. True crime podcasts, TV dramas- They scratched the surface but never quite captured the raw reality of being on the ground, seeing it unfold firsthand. The idea of working alongside someone with experience, someone who had walked through crime scenes instead of just reading about them, was invigorating.

The half-hour she was gone wasn’t spent idly. It was filled with a mix of jittery preparation and rational caution.

Checking, rechecking, and checking again. Securing supplies for the most part. He ensured everything was charged properly, double-checked their water bottles, and even added a few portable water filters to their stash. No precaution was too excessive. If they failed to reach a reliable water source on the way back, he wasn’t about to gamble with whatever was in the wilderness. Pathogens were an invisible but lethal threat, and he’d rather be overprepared than reckless.


By the time Amy returned, Lanes had adjusted his hat and secured his bag, making certain that nothing would come loose along the way. His pace remained steady, not too fast, not too slow, keeping her position in mind. The weather was holding for now, the trails still open. It was the right time to begin.

At her question, his shoulders shifted instinctively, a reflexive rise, not out of defense toward her, but toward the memories that filled him with unease.

“Yeah- Me an’ a couple of rangers were out looking for Sanders early this morning. I was the second one to see him.”

His exhale was sharp, edged with something more than exertion. Awkward. Heavy.

“He was real close to the lost camper, you probably saw that in the report. Something ambushed them.” He paused, weighing his words before continuing. “Bear attack. That’s the official line. That’s what most of the others are saying.” His gaze flickered, cautious. “But Chief and I… we don’t buy it. That was no bear... That's why you're here..”

A beat of silence, then his voice dipped lower, more measured.

“But I don’t wanna derail the investigation with my own theories. It’s better if you take a look at it yourself.”

He let the quiet settle after that, longer than was comfortable, reminding himself to stick to Williams’ instructions.


By noon, they had already passed Fire Tower 5. Jasper saw no reason to make a lengthy stop there today. Instead, he opted for brief pauses along the way, strategically using their energy rather than draining it all at once with a long trip and long pause.

His radio buzzed to life, breaking through the relative stillness. A gruff, older voice cut through the static.

“Here, Raptor on 3. Any updates on the issue? Over.”

A second transmission followed, layered with background noise and faint voices.

“Here, Cedarwind. Wildfern and Ironwood are with me at the scene. Had some hikers too close to the zone- Redirected already. Over.”

Jasper keyed in his own response.

“Here, Evergreen, past 5, coming close to the zone. Appreciate the assist. Over.”

The walk stretched a little further, the weight of the coming scene hanging in the air. By the time lunch hour rolled in, they had reached their destination.

But appetite had no place here.

The restricted area was sizable, larger than would likely be expected. Rangers moved with purpose, maintaining control, ensuring no civilians wandered in. The span of the closed-off space told them one crucial thing: evidence had been found.

And it wasn’t clean.

It wasn’t contained.

It was scattered.

Grizzly.

-

(TW: Description of a murder scene, medical terms, light gore.)

The scene was far from pretty, or normal for that matter. One part of the scene was not entirely recognizable; trails of gore placed around the zone where a clear struggle had happened. Gashes on trees, broken pieces of bark, bushes and plants trampled around the space, particularly close to the two bodies left behind. The first, was a pile of bones and flesh, reminiscent of what a predator would leave behind after a meal, making use of all what they could feed before leaving what may have resisted up for scavengers, and yet, there was a malicious intent behind this. The skull had been propped up on another bone, which was firmly planted into the ground, as if mocking, or taunting, leaving a mark for whoever found it. It showed a clear sentience behind the murder.

The second one, clearly Sanders based on the uniform, was more complete.

The body presented severe damage, there were multiple fragmentary fractures of the facial skeleton, as well as the sides of the skull, as if he had been battered violently. Not to mention the damage to his arms and hands. He tried to fight whoever the attacker was, evident in the slashes and broken falanges. A few ribs had taken a toll too, had Sanders survived the encounter, the punctures of the latter would've left him helpless regardless. He looked as if he had been trampled on top of being mauled.

Lastly, the most important clue according to Jasper, though he did not speak it out loud, where the marks on the top of the scalp. several marks were indented there, as if whatever had taken him... Had attempted to crack open his cranium. Teeth, to the unaware eye. But if the right tests were done, it was rather obvious.

Those were the marks of fingers.

 

[illirica]

The trek out went without too much issue. There were a few check-ins from various parties, which made Amy feel a lot better somehow. It was comfortable, familiar, the sound of people doing their jobs. She left them to it while she pondered the information that Lanes had supplied. None of it was new information, but it was always important to hear it from as close to the original source as possible, and Lanes had been, by his account, one of the first ones out there.

She'd gotten the debrief earlier, the same it's listed as a bear attack but... synopsis, which was why she was here and not animal control. Although, it wouldn't surprise her if they were here as well, doing what they could. There was a lot of difference between a bear and a human in terms of what sorts of damage they could do. Amy didn't exactly have a lot of experience with bears, per se, but she'd seen what a dog could do and it was probably much closer to bear than a human would be.

They walked without much conversation. Amy respected Lanes' decision not to give her too much information ahead of time, though she definitely wanted to talk to him about it once she'd had a chance to look it over. The scene, when they arrived, was... awful. It wasn't her first murder scene, and she'd been sure to keep her stomach reasonably empty in preparation, but she still felt the spike of nausea, controlling her breathing until it went away enough that she could look around objectively.

Even as murder scenes went, this was bad. Lots of tearing, ripping, the sort that you didn't usually see without severe psychosis being a factor. Sometimes you'd get something like that when someone went off, hopped up on some pharmaceutical concoction, or with some sort of mental disorder. Amy took a moment to open her backpack and put on a pair of disposable gloves, making sure she could take a better look at things without contaminating anything or getting contamination on her.

There wasn't a whole lot left of the first victim. Mostly bones, and Amy approached those carefully, handling them gently but looking over them for signs of damage, signs of... well, chewing. Chewing looked different than slashing blades, when it hit the bones. More splintery, less stricken. Amy wasn't sure she had the best terms for it, but she had a firm image in her mind, whether she wanted it or not.

Her approach to the second victim took more time, as there was more to look at. The damage was extensive, again making her think of someone going completely off. The wounds were terrible, and a number of them could have been fatal. A number of them also could have been non-fatal, and Amy did what she could to try to establish which of them had come first. It was always hard to tell, but sometimes there were signs, and there was a difference in motive as to whether he had been killed and then mauled or... tortured.

She didn't know if she wanted to bring that to Lanes' attention or not - he was pretty young, and she wasn't sure what the relationship had been there. She'd ask those questions first, find out where that was. The head attracted her attention for a bit and she probed at the scalp wounds, frowning. Teeth tended to line up a certain way, when they were biting something. The punctures on the scalp were not the sort that lined up with any sort of mouth that she could think of.

Five holes. Only five, four on one side and one on the other. Amy wasn't sure what she was looking at there, and she wasn't sure she wanted to - but she had to, of course. That was her job.

It had been silent a while as she'd looked things over, but eventually she drew a cautious, shallow breath - she didn't want to inhale too deeply here.

"All right. Thank you for letting me look. Was it like this when it was found?"

 

[ItsFulgrim]

The scene painted something revolting.

While the signs of biting and chewing were present, slashes were too, though on the first it was unclear which had come first.

The wounds on Sanders presented further horror. This was not the work of a predator, but a killer. Whoever had attacked him made sure to hurt him first, scratching, clawing, hitting, trampling and biting, but all done in a precise brutality, as if searching not to murder him, at least until he had called through the radio, that is when the culprit had gotten bored of its toy...

And left it for dead, ensuring it had stomped on the radio before leaving. This was calculated- Unless wild animals suddenly understood how to cover their tracks and destroy rather resistant equipment.


-


Jasper crossed his arms, his gaze darkened as he surveyed the grim scene before him. A deep frown carved into his features. Now was the time to speak up about what he had noticed, even though what he saw was irrational and unnatural, it was still the truth.

At first, hesitation gripped him. The weight of the situation pressed against his chest, making the words harder to shape, but eventually, he let them out.

"Yeh. He was found like that."

Lanes, standing nearby, made a conscious effort not to look directly at her as he spoke. Worry tugged at him, and the added burden of not wanting to be seen in his current state held him back. His eyes had welled with a thin sheen of unshed tears, not from a personal attachment to Sanders, but from sheer frustration. The helplessness of it all stung; they hadn't been able to do anything, hadn't arrived soon enough to make a difference. And beyond personal grief, the scene itself was enough to unsettle anyone, an overwhelming surge of emotions coursed through him: indignation at the sheer brutality, fear of the unknown, disgust at the savagery, and sorrow for the fate that had befallen the poor man. Worst of all, however, was the dread, the suffocating realization that whoever had done this was still out there, perhaps watching.

Lanes wasn’t good at masking his emotions. He suspected she had already seen through his weak attempt at maintaining composure, but regardless, he continued.

"We first thought maybe an animal had come through, maybe... Disturbed the scene. But I think you noticed," he murmured, his voice lower now, weighted with something. He raised a hand, silently.


Nothing.

No birds stirred in the trees, no insects buzzed along the ground, no distant rustling of creatures moving through the underbrush. The world around them sat in an eerie, unnatural silence, not even the wind dared to breathe through the space. It was as though the mute button had been pressed for the entirety of the forest, as if every living thing had been driven away, scared into absence by something far more menacing.

"Nothing has come here. Not a single bug on the ground, no scavengers picking at the remains. Not normal." Lanes exhaled sharply, shaking his head before pressing on. "Could be a chemical, maybe... or something else. We took half an hour to find 'em after the radio call- That's long enough for something to come through. And yet... nothing. Not a single sign of life. This area is known for bears. We have a mother and her cubs... They would've found the scene easily."

The few rangers who stood nearby, guarding the place, shot him judgemental glances, as if silently saying "this again?". Though he paid it no mind, interested in what Amy had to say, hoping she could bring a resolution to this.

 

[illirica]

Amy hadn't actually noticed the lack of other creatures until Lanes had pointed it out. Fortunately, she'd been on the force for long enough at this point that her poker face was near perfect, and so she could just give him a nod and appear inscrutable. That was part of the job, too - she'd said that investigations weren't a spectator sport, but there was always someone watching, and the other people on the scene needed to believe that she knew what she was doing.

It was pretty obvious that they didn't think that about Lanes. That wasn't all that surprising, either - he was young, probably new to the job, not yet securely in position as one of the guys, even if they thought he had potential to become that some day, once he'd grown into it a little more. To take a stance apart from the group, though, that would put him at a disadvantage - which was probably one more of the reasons he'd gotten stuck with the job of showing her around. It was, of course, entirely possible that the kid was totally off base, but Amy also remembered the care that he'd taken in getting the gear together and making the trek down here. She wasn't disinclined to believe him just because of his inexperience. She'd had younger witnesses, after all.

She'd also noticed the tears, though she'd respectfully pretended not to, and noticed that the rest of the people there did the same. So, they might not believe his explanations, but they were still willing to offer him that much grace. Amy kept her mouth shut firmly on her analysis that Jasper had been alive for a lot of what had happened. She didn't know if Lanes had figured that out or not - it was likely that at least some of them here had those suspicions.

Amy took the gloves off, disposing of them carefully in a plastic bag to be saved for later analysis as well, then reached out and took the kid's elbow with her hand, gently steering him. "Let's go have a talk, you and me."

Her voice was calm, directing him away from the others, a glance over her shoulder to the ranger her quick personnel analysis had pinged as maybe the most sympathetic, the sort of look that said I know, I know, but the kid's crying even if we're both pretending we didn't see that, so I'll take him over and he can tell me his story while he calms down. She didn't want to alienate herself from the rest of them, after all - but despite the look she'd given, Amy Lopez was keenly interested to hear what else Lanes had noticed about all of this.

"I'll interview everyone else later as well."

 

[ItsFulgrim]

Jasper was perplexed by her decision to continue the conversation with him.

It wasn’t the reaction he usually received; most people tended to keep their interactions with him brief, preferring to escape the inevitable flood of words that poured out whenever he started talking.

He had too many thoughts, too many theories, an unfortunate habit of rambling that had followed him since childhood. A lonely upbringing and an undiagnosed, though very likely, attention deficit disorder had only exacerbated the issue.

Still, he did not refuse her. She was his superior for the day, after all.

He cast another fleeting glance at the scene, wondering whether it was worth voicing his own interpretation instead of merely parroting what the report had already outlined, keeping the voice of the Chief in the back of his mind despite everything that he disagreed with and the extra comments he wanted to add so badly.

The other rangers stayed focused on their duties, speaking in low tones among themselves, their voices crackling over the radio as they coordinated efforts, ensuring everything remained in order. Eventually, he and his temporary boss drifted out of earshot, stepping into a small clearing nearby, a stark contrast to the grim spectacle awaiting further investigation just a short distance away.


Jasper Lanes inhaled deeply, grateful for the fresh air, the momentary reprieve from the oppressive weight of the situation. Before meeting her gaze, he swiftly dragged a forearm across his eyes, wiping away any trace of the tears he refused to acknowledge. He didn’t know what she expected him to say, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he had anything worthwhile to offer, he feared he wouldn't be taken seriously.

So, he kept it simple.

"I am... Not sure I have much else that’s useful for your investigation- At least, nothing that actually makes sense..."

 

[illirica]

Amy gave him a minute, letting him have time to breathe air that didn't smell like a corpse, doing the same thing herself although she was more surreptitious about it. He cleared his tears, his thoughts, and as she had suspected, when he was ready he started talking.

It was hesitant, of course, probably because he'd already been told what to think. That was the problem with people talking to each other - they decided on a narrative and tried to get their own experiences to fit in. It was why the police tried to isolate witnesses as much as possible before they were interviewed, so that whatever they had to say wouldn't be influenced by each other. It was usually too late to do so entirely, of course, and in this particular case it was way too late, but she'd do what she could to tear down the story that had been crafted, break it up into pieces once again, and then - only then - see if she could fit them back together.

She leaned back against a tree, which apparently looked a lot more comfortable in film than it actually was in real life. Walls were easy to lean against. Trees were lumpy in odd places. Of course, pointing that out would just interfere with her carefully crafted aura of knowing what the hell she was doing, so she stayed where she was, watching the kid stumble over his words, the conversational pit yawning forward to swallow them before he got too far.

"Lanes." Calm, but firm - the sort of unrelenting she needed to be, at times like this. "Your people called me out to decide what was useful and what made sense. Your job is to tell me what you know, or what you think, and let me figure out if its relevant."

 

[ItsFulgrim]

Lanes sighed, finally abandoning his attempts. There was no point in trying to force an explanation where none seemed possible.

“The scene matches," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "A big case from when I was way younger.” He shrugged, giving himself a brief moment to gather his strength, bracing for any judgment that might come his way.

“The tracks, the wounds, the weird silence. Even where it happened. It was close, it was kept under wraps for a while, it probably made it into the official reports they gave ya'.”

He paused, shoving his hands into his pockets, his movements restless as he paced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “The others don’t know much about it. Most weren’t working here at the time or simply never heard about it, or they have and don't care. But I’ve lived in the zone since forever. This forest is all I know, besides the town where I grew up, the one at the edge of it... It's always the same, people go missing, they don't bother beyond a surface search and let it be, but then things go off the rails when something like- This happens."

His gaze flicked up to her, determination settling in as he made his choice. No more pretending. No more masking his worry in false confidence.

“Call me paranoid or crazy. But folks around here... We have our own beliefs. Whatever got to that camper and Sanders, it wasn’t an animal and I am confident it wasn’t a person... You saw the marks, didn’t you?- Right on the head?”


He exhaled sharply, rubbing his palms together, trying to push away the creeping sensation of his blood freezing.

“I’m not saying it was a werewolf or a ghost or some TV show kind of monster-thing. But forests are old, ya' know? We don’t even fully understand what is in the the ocean entirely. Why would the woods be any different?”

He let the thought linger, hanging in the thick, heavy air before pushing forward.

“If you ask around in town, the sheriff can pull up the old case files. The townsfolk will tell you their own stories. Sure, some of them are probably just people with loose marbles, talking about local legends and seeing things... You don’t have to believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. But when enough people keep saying the same thing... Well. I would at least start to suspect something is off."

 

[illirica]

Well.

Amy could at least see why the others didn't believe the kid. Ghost stories - the sorts of things kids told each other around the campfire to scare each other. Maybe some of them believed it. Maybe someone would have believed him, if things had been different. Amy... Amy had seen enough of what humans could do to each other that she didn't really need to worry about ghosts or cryptids. The monsters were among them, sure. They looked just like all the other humans, because they were the other humans.

But Lanes needed to talk to someone, so she listened, and there was good information in the story even if she didn't take the same conclusion out of it. If there had been a similar case, she wanted to know about it.

"How long ago did this happen? This other case?" She could call back in to headquarters and have them pull the file and send it to her - Amy wasn't sure how much good it would do for the old case, but if it really was similar, then that was important, because even if it didn't say things like werewolves, it said things like serial killer and motive, and that was what Amy needed to know.

She squeezed his shoulder, briefly, not sure if it was sympathy or encouragement - maybe it didn't matter. Maybe she was just glad he'd found the courage enough to tell her what he was thinking, for whatever it ended up being worth in the long run. Maybe it was something of all of those, and didn't need to be defined.

"I think you're right that it wasn't an animal," she stated, quietly. Animals didn't act like that. Of course, most people thought that humans didn't either, which was why it was so easy to jump to monsters. It was a leap of faith, in its own way, the faith that people weren't like that, that people didn't do those things. Maybe, once upon a time, Amy would have shared that belief. Nowadays... well.

She let the kid go, unconsciously moving her hand into the position she'd have needed to take to make those marks in the skull. Bigger hands than hers, but a man could have done it. He'd have needed something for the punctures - knives. Railroad nails. Ice picks. There were probably half a dozen things in the average shed that would have worked, and with a little duct tape and a certain level of debauchery, it was all too possible. A full coroner's report might be able to tell them a little more about those marks, but that would take time, and Amy would just have to see what she could do in the meantime.

"I know this was in the reports, but let's go over it again. The last time you talked to Sanders before all of this - anything that he said seem off to you? Anything he had been worrying about?"

 

[ItsFulgrim]

Jasper exhaled deeply, forcing himself to steady his racing thoughts despite the heavy weight pressing on his shoulders. He needed to shake it off. Focus. They were in this together, right? That was what he told himself, though reality dictated otherwise. He wasn't her partner in this, he wasn't a cop, he was just helping her finish the job, not playing the role of her sidekick.

Finally, he forced himself to answer her questions.

"It happened a while back… Ten years, maybe? Same thing as the hiker- Someone showed up, just like this, and then the investigation began. And just like now, they concluded the same: animal attack. That was what they settled on. Until they found their culprit." He paused, rubbing his clammy palms against his pants to dispel the cold sweat gathering there.

"Cannibal. That’s what they landed on. Some guy named… Wilderson, I think. Town drunk, they said. Always high on something. Even I remember my old man warning me to stay far away from his house when I was a kid. Anyway, he swore he didn’t do it. Kept rambling about antlers or something. Probably just the drugs talking. Still…" He exhaled with difficulty. "Would’ve been a damn good person to interrogate."

He let that linger, unsure if he should keep down that path. Instead, he shifted to Sanders.

"He wasn’t the type to get scared easily. Tough as nails. Hardly spoke a word but believe me- He never sounded as terrified as he did on that radio last night." Jasper swallowed hard, fighting back the unease in his gut. "A few months ago, when he was teaching me the ropes, we got charged by a fully grown ass male bear. And he just- Used the bear spray like it was nothing. Like he was swatting away some damn mosquito. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic. Hell, he laughed when it was over."

Jasper clenched his jaw, forcing his breath to remain steady, trying to smile at the tender memory. He needed to keep his nerves in check. "But before yesterday? He was jumpy." He shrugged, struggling to articulate what he’d noticed. "I chalked it up to stress. Maybe age. Hell, who knows what runs through a seventy-year-old man’s mind? He was in the troops when he was younger. Maybe the war messed with his head. But no- That’s just unrealistic. He wasn’t afraid of anything."

Jasper's grip tightened around the fabric of his jacket, pulling it taut against his fingers. "We get weirdos out here all the time. Dangerous people. He’s helped track runaways, drug addicts with knives- You name it. And from everything I’ve heard, from everything I’ve seen, he was never like this. But last night... On the radio? He wasn’t just afraid. He was horrified. Like he was losing his damn mind."

Jasper swallowed again, attempting to suppress the dread curling in his stomach. "A few days ago, he had a fight with the Chief. I didn’t catch the whole thing; they stopped when I came into the station... But it was over some mount in her office. You know, like a hunting trophy? No clue what it was exactly, but whatever it was, he was erratic about it. Kept saying he didn’t want to see the damn thing again."

He exhaled sharply, fighting against the sinking feeling clawing its way up his spine. "I think he knew." His voice came softer now, his grip tightening further. "The attacker. Whoever, whatever, it was. I think he figured it out before anyone else did. And I think whoever did this... knew he was onto them. That's, as much as I could say..."