Aiden stiffens at the change in the air, watching the snowstorm shift into gentle sheets of snowfall within an instant. The assembly around the fire falls quiet as a sound breaks the silence. The crunching snow comes from beyond the firelight, the noise paced in long strides as something moves around the edge of the camp. The steps draw closer as the men listen, this time accompanied by a rhythmic creaking.

     Barnabus picks up his musket from the log beside him and gestures for one of the men to grab a hooded lantern from a tent post. The crunching grows nearer, growing closer to Aiden. Several of the assembled men reach for various axes and tools while others sling their muskets from their shoulders.

Aiden sets down his bowl and stares back at Ethan's tent, then feels something wet drip onto his calf. He turns to the woodpile and his face goes pale. A thick red ooze seeps out of the timber, pumping in a steady stream before pooling in the snow.

     Aiden takes a few steps back as a shout raises up behind him.

     “The log, it’s bleeding,” says a man as he jumps from his seat at the fire, watching as the bark seeps a red liquid out of every crack.

     The footsteps start up again, circling behind Ethan’s tent.

     “Ethan, get out of the tent, there’s an animal in camp,” Aiden shouts as he begins to move that way.

     “Hold it, boy, you’ll spook it,” Barnabus says as he raises his musket, “Isaac, shine your lantern at it.”

     Aiden stops, hearing a muffled response from inside the tent as he watches a thin beam of lantern light penetrate the veil of falling snow. The beam finds nothing until it catches a glint in the dark. The man with the lantern gets closer, then Aiden’s eyes grow wide as two dots of color piece the snow, the pink orbs looming over the camp. 

Barnabus fires, but the pink orbs stay still. Blood drips onto the top of the tent as Barnabus lowers his smoking musket, his face twisted in confusion. 

    “What are you boys shooting at now?” says Ethan as he pokes his head out of the tent, “You’re giving me a heart attack.”

     He gets no response as the men stare up at the blood dripping onto the tent. Aiden stands there as Ethan begins to walk toward him. The pink orbs turn their gaze to Ethan.

     “What are you all gawking at?” Ethan asks with concern in his voice.

     A loud creaking fills the air, then the tent is driven into the snow by a massive white leg, its bulk crushing the chimney and snapping the tent poles. A hulking form steps into the firelight, its body made of bones. Blood drips down its long white snout, the teeth beneath its lips as sharp and yellow as its antlers. Its pink eyes stare down at Barnabus as it tilts its head. The wind picks up with a distorted howl.