I will not write more fanfiction, she said.
I will concentrate on revising, she said…
Yeah, that went well!
So, after promising myself that I wouldn't write any more fanfic until after my exams, here I am again. *Starts singing Here I Go Again by Whitesnake.
I hope you enjoy this.
Triggers for abuse mentioned in later chapters and a warning for swearing.
Enjoy…
Chapter 1
John trekked though the forest in search of the Wendigo that had already claimed the lives of a young couple, an elderly man and a student. It was freezing cold and a layer of frost had already formed over the thick layer of leaves that covered the ground.
Therefore, John was tired, cold, fed up and wanted nothing more than to head back to his son, Sammy. Sam was all he had now, Mary had been murdered by a demon before the couple could have a second child and to John, his ten-year-old was the most important thing in the world.
Well, the only important thing other than killing the sonofabitch that murdered his wife.
And this was why he just wanted to get this damned small-town hunt over and done with so that he could help Sam with his math homework and get back to the important things in life…like revenge.
However, the Wendigo clearly had other ideas and was remaining illusive. John had been searching for over half an hour now and there were still no signs, and he was just about to give up when a rustling of leaves caught his attention.
Looking up and spinning round, John was just able to make out a pale, humanoid figure amongst the dense foliage.
The Wendigo.
John tore after the monster, crashing through bushes and shrubs before finally catching another glimpse of movement.
However, now that he looked closer, the Wendigo didn't look much like a Wendigo at all.
In fact, the figure was tiny and fully clothed.
John swore. This wasn't a Wendigo at all. It was a freakin child running through the forest.
The only resemblance was the kid's milk-white skin and hunched figure.
"HEY, HEY KID! COME HERE, YOU CAN'T STAY HERE. YOU'RE IN DANGER, KID!"
"Shit!" John swore again when he saw the child turn tail and run, he just couldn't catch a break.
"LOOK KID, I'M WARNING YOU! COME HERE!" John continued to yell, thundering in the general direction that the child took off in, listening out for the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs.
It took him ten minutes, but John eventually caught up with the child, who had buried himself in the hollow of a tree.
Now that John approached him, he could see just how awful the kid looked. His hair was matted and full of blood, dry leaves and twigs. His entire body was covered in cuts and bruising. Not to mention the fact that his clothes were torn to shreds, revealing bruising and shallow cuts.
The little boy was curled up, wheezing and shaking as if his life depended on it.
"Hey Champ, it's alright. Can you come out of there? I need to get you out of here." John was met with a pair of bright green eyes, green eyes that didn't show one ounce of understanding. The kid coughed violently, slumping further back into the hollow as he wheezed and struggled for breath.
Gingerly, John crept a little further, reaching out to take the kids hand. However, he immediately drew his hand back when the child let out an almost growl-like noise.
"Shhh, you're safe." John reached out again, flinching when the kid whimpered and yelped as soon as John touched him. The little boy tried to shrink further into the tree trunk, curling up into the smallest ball possible and cowering.
John could literally see him shaking, but did not relinquish his grip. In fact, he tightened his hold on the child, ignoring the struggling and pulling him out from his hiding place.
"Come on, it's all ok Kid. Shhh, don't be afraid." The boy wriggled, desperately trying to free his wrist, coughing with his face bowed in fear as he gasped for air.
John finally extricated the child fully from his hole, setting the boy down on two feet but keeping a hand on his shoulder.
However, as soon as the child showed signs of bolting, he scooped him up, trying to ignore the child's growls, screams and kicks. His skinny frame was practically convulsing with fear and John was hardly surprised when the terrified child vomited all over his front.
The vomit was a mess of vibrant greens and red and John grimaced in disgust.
For a moment he wondered what the kid must have eaten for his sick to look like that…probably leaves and berries.
God, how long had the kid been surviving on his own in the woods?
The little boy in his arms renewed his efforts, struggling harder than before and causing John to tighten his grip around the kid's waist.
"Shhh, stop struggling, Kid, you're gonna make me hurt you, and I don't want to do that. C'mon, settle down. Shhhhh, it's ok, you're safe. I've got you. I'm gonna make sure you get back to where you belong; you don't have to live out here anymore. C'mon, you're freezing Kiddo."
The child stared at John, continuing to wriggle, panting and wheezing miserably.
John held tighter, causing the boy to renew his efforts, snarling a little before sinking his teeth hard into John's arm, causing the hunter to drop the kid to the ground in shock.
By the time John got clumsily to his feet, the kid was long gone, stumbling though the forest…the forest which was inhabited by a Wendigo.
"Jesus, some days you just shouldn't get out of bed!" John stared around, completely disorientated. It was clear that the kid had much better bearings in the forest than he did and he knew there was no way he could track the child through the dense undergrowth.
Which left him with only one option.
He had to find the Wendigo before the Wendigo found the child.
And then he had to find the child himself and sort him out.
It was going to be a long, long day.
It took John twenty minutes to find tell-tale claw marks in some tree trunks and he redoubled his effort, sprinting from tree to tree and bush to bush, futilely searching for the monster.
Everything was a blur of green and brown and by the time John took a breather, doubled over panting whilst leaning on a tree, he knew he needed something, anything to help him find the Wendigo.
At that moment, he would have been grateful for any sign.
Well, any sign apart from the one he got.
An ear piecing scream echoed around the woodland and John's heart froze.
The child.
With one final push, John ran over to the commotion, small shrieks and yowls of pain informing him about where to go.
And then everything went silent.
"SHIT! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU FUGLY SON OF A BITCH? GET AWAY FROM THAT CHILD RIGHT NOW!"
With a burst of energy, John stormed into a clearing and saw the Wendigo, which was bringing its claws down upon the boy's arm, which he was using to protect his face.
Another scream of pain echoed and bounced back between the trees as the boy fell to the ground, completely limp and unmoving.
Anger coursed through John and he pulled out his flare gun, shooting the creature right between its shoulder blades.
It fell to the floor with a howl and landed half across the boy, who still wasn't moving.
John approached the crumpled figures cautiously, rolling the Wendigo off of the boy before taking stock of the damage. A quick press of fingers to the boy's neck revealed that the boy was alive, but John was not at all happy when he felt how weak his pulse was.
Now that he was closer and the boy was not struggling against him, it became clear just how long the child had been living rough. His hair was shoulder length and matted with blood and mud, his clothes were at least three sizes too big and John could see the kid's cheek bones and jawline poking through his skin.
With a few choice swearwords, John poured whisky from his hipflask onto the wound on the boy's arm, grateful that the child was unconscious and would not feel the sting. Then, he grabbed some bandages from his oversized pockets and wrapped them tight around the deep cuts. It would have to do for the time being.
Once this was done, John scooped the boy up and wrapped him in his own jacket, before turning and carrying him in the vague direction of the Impala.
Judging by his height, the boy was probably around twelve years old, although he could have passed for a lot less considering how thin and rakish he was.
But at least he was still out of it, slumped against John and not putting up a fight.
However, after ten minutes, the boy stirred in his arms and immediately began to scream, howling and kicking wildly, a manic, animalistic glint in his eyes.
And then it dawned on John.
The kid was completely feral; it didn't look like he had had human contact in years.
John did his best to rock the boy and hummed soothingly, but nothing worked, so he tried to make it back to the car even faster.
Once he reached the Impala, he considered his options. The kid would draw attention if he sat in the front of the Impala, but if he was in the backseat he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on the child and the little boy would probably freak out and attack him.
Neither option was great, but it wasn't as if he could leave the boy in the trunk or anything.
With a sigh, John carried the kid to the trunk, opening it and pulling out a bundle of blankets before wrapping the writhing child in them.
He practically swaddled the boy so that he wouldn't be able to kick or hit him as he drove before putting him in the shotgun seat. The boy wriggled hopelessly and whimpered in fright, his face ashen as John strapped him in with the seat belt.
"Don't worry, we'll sort this out. I'll take care of you for now."
The boy didn't respond so John turned on the radio to break the monotonous silence. Metallica began to play and John began to tap the rhythm out on the dashboard, glancing over at the green-eyed-boy every once and a while to check he was still alright.
Of course, there was no need for this because the boy's constant coughing alerted him that he was alive, if not well.
However, there was one difference. The little boys eyes had widened at the music and something akin to a smile had formed across his lips. He bobbed his head gingerly in time with the music when he thought John wasn't watching and eventually relaxed.
It was almost as if he remembered the tune from a past life.
John turned the radio up a little
The kid was clearly exhausted and after twenty minutes the little boy's head slumped forward and he feel asleep, his mouth wide open as he wheezed and sniffled.
John knew he had his work cut out, but for now he was going to take things one step at a time and his first step was taking the child home, feeding him up and sorting Sammy out.
Well, there's your introduction. The next chapter will be up in a few days, depending on reviews :) Yep…bribery is a bitch ;) Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know xxx