Wendigoes are the worst, she decided. And the boy, no, thing, she was standing before was clearly a wendigo. She would be able to tell even if she couldn't smell it. She had known him before, in high school, and he wasn't this much of an asshole. But, she had to endure his presence. To kill him, she had to get him alone. And there was only one way to get him alone. She had to at least pretend she liked him.
"So, Tom," she, ugh, purred. "How have you been lately?"
"Not bad, doll," he replied, looking down at her lustfully. "How are you enjoying my little get together." Oh, god. This one's young. Not good. Yeah, the young ones were bad fakes with easy tells but they were also super strong.
"Oh, I always love an excuse to party! You know me!" she lied. She chatted him up a bit, laughing at bits she guessed were supposed to be jokes and pretending that the smell of death and cheap booze wasn't drowning her. Eventually, she pulled what was apparently a decent enough 'come hither' look to get the wendigo to follow her out of the house and to the privacy of the relatively distant backyard.
"So, babe," he said. "I could just tell you wanted us alone. What d'ya wanna do?" he asked suggestively.
She smiled back, playing the blushing virgin, "Oh, you know…"
She sucker punched him. Hard. Right in the throat. Owned. He went flying back towards the forest behind him. He stood, coughing and clutching his throat. "What the fuck?!" he snarled, needle-like teeth now lining his mouth, shocked by her super-human strength.
"Jesus, you are the stupidest, worst skinwalker I've ever had the misfortune of meeting, you know that?" she called back. He seemed to take offense to that.
"Bitch!" he spat. He was growing larger, his body stretching and pulsing unnaturally. She glanced behind her. Good. No one heard that. Or they're just too drunk to care. She glared at the monster now in his true form. He was lanky and thin, with a vaguely deer shaped face and grey skin. His arms were grotesquely long ending in huge spindly hands with fingers ending it spear-like points. There were faces sewn into the sides of his bony chest. And, of course, the scent of rotting got even more sickening.
"Ugh, you're even more gross like this," she taunted, nose wrinkling in disgust. "Turn back, at least you were tolerable that way."
"I'm gonna kill you, little bitch!" he growled. "I'm gonna eat you and I'm gonna parade around in that pretty little face of yours and eat even more!"
She smirked mockingly at him. "I'd like to see you try."
He roared and charged her. Jeez, I hope no one heard that. She ducked under his claws and kicked at his thin spidery legs. He stumbled and she took the opportunity to grab him by his antlers. Gross, they're slimy. The wendigo managed to rip into her side and she half shrieked-half snarled at him. She forced his head down and lifted her knee, nailing the skinwalker right in the jaw and sending his bottom row of teeth up into his upper jaw, lodging them there. He released a muffled cry of pain and collapsed, flailing.
She kicked him in the ribs mercilessly, causing him to screech through his teeth. She continued this process for what felt like an hour, occasionally stepping on his fingers and stomping on his skull to keep him down, until a firm hand, rested on her shoulder.
"That's enough, Aria," hummed a silky feminine voice.
Aria felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine. She gave the wendigo final stomp, causing him to release another whimper. She ran her hand through her dark brown locks and she greeted the other woman, wiping blood from her mouth.
"Major," she drawled cynically, nodding once and stepping away from the fallen monster.
The woman nodded back, pushing her red bangs out of her eyes. "How bad is the collateral?"
"S'far as I can tell just the kid, Tom. The other faces look at least five years old." A sniff then a wince. "Yup, definitely too late to cover those up."
"Hm. Good work. We'll have a sweeper team cover up what happened here." Her eyes flickered up and down Aria's blood spattered form. "I would recommend you get back to base and get cleaned up."
"Hmph."
"And, I expect your report on my desk first thing in the morning, Witchling."
"What?! Since when does-"
"Since always," the red-head drawled, cutting Aria off with a knowing look. "First thing in the morning." With this, the elder witch placed a binding spell on the wendigo, releasing a powerful burst of magic as glowing, pale yellow threads wrapped around the beast. She picked it up, and with one last warning glance at the younger witch, disappeared in a flutter of ebony feathers.
Aria rolled her eyes and disappeared in a flurry of moths into the warm summer night.
Tsk. Bitch.
Wendigoes eat people and walk around in their skin, so, Tom is dead. If you look up wendigo on Google Images you'll probably see what I'm describing. Witches are like super heroes, I guess? They have super strength and magic and really good noses, apparently. Aria's a super cool and edgy black college age girl who doesn't play by the rules and the Major's super classy and the (red)head bitch in charge of some nondescript witch organization and also Aria's mentor-lady-type-thing. There, that's all the back story you need. I can't write fight scenes, okay? Let's not talk about my inability to write fight scenes. I might turn this into a drabble type thing.