A.N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG TO FINALLY DRAFT OUT. It's been a long painful year for me and I actually had this chapter done quite a while ago but really wanted to make this chapter perfect. I hope you guys are still reading, I have not abandoned this fanfiction and there will be a two or three more chapters imma roll out by the end of this month! Thank you so much for all the support all these years and thank you for not abandoning me :) Let the chapter begin, shall we?
"Fine, then, Kurt."
The Wendigo's mouth formed into a frown.
"Fine."
The next thing Kurt knew, Blaine had slammed his lips to his own, nearly knocking all wind from his lungs. For a second, the kiss had obliterated every thought. For the first time in forever, Kurt's mind was locked into the present. The worries of everything evaporating into the wind. His breath quickened, and in that moment, Blaine tasted like December, like hot chocolate on stormy evenings and crisp winter air, his mother's warm embrace.
For a moment.
Until Blaine's contented sigh punctured the illusion.
Kurt's body went rigid and he let out a staggered yelp, hurriedly shoving the other back onto the ground, hearing the silver dagger's resounding clang echo through the forest. He stood, rooted to the spot, his hand subconsciously raised to touch his lips.
His eyes rested on Blaine, who wilted slightly under the growing glare.
Oddly enough, he looked hurt.
What just happened?
There was blood on his knuckles and a bruise on his cheek, yet he cannot for the life of him, recall the fight that had just happened. Kurt watched, almost in a trance, as the other boy – thing – god knows anymore – stood up groggily, hugging his torso with his arm, eyes fixated onto the snowy ground. His (it's?) cheeks were flushed red and he bit his upper lip, looking awfully embarrassed and the hunter recalled the Cerberus doing the same thing whenever he was distressed or ashamed with himself.
The hunter stayed silent. Was it the winter cold that brought the synapses of his brain to a standstill? Unknowingly, his finger was still tracing his lip, his heart still beating so deafeningly he was almost sure Blaine would've heard it.
"Kurt." Blaine's voice snapped him out of it.
The hunter's eyes flashed with indignance and anger, much like lightning on a pitch black night. He dropped his hand that was caressing his lips subconsciously, a sudden bright spark of irritation in his veins. The way he squinted as he glowered fiercely at Blaine would've reminded anyone of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. A burning animosity was rising in his grey orbs and he clenched his fists, his entire body shuddering.
"What," Kurt punctuated each word with raw anger, "did," he gritted his teeth, "you," an accusing finger raised at Blaine, "do?"
Blaine sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.
There was a long pause.
"We do not have time to discuss this." He managed to speak, his voice wavering, as if on the edge of tears.
Kurt bristled.
"I won't hurt you." Blaine murmured, eyes downcast. "I swear on my life."
"You are a Wendigo." The hunter repeated himself.
"I am a Wendigo." Blaine reiterated.
Before Kurt could say anything else, Blaine interrupted him.
"But I am also Blaine." He peeked up through his messy fringe, brown eyes wide, guiltless. "I promise," He stepped forward cautiously, watching Kurt's narrowed stare follow him. "I promise I'll explain everything to you once this is over. I promise."
Blaine stopped just an arm's length away from the hunter and raised his arm out for Kurt to take it.
"Please Kurt, I need you to trust me."
The hunter frowned, touching the mild gash on his throat.
How? Kurt's heart raced. Impossible. What is he? A Wendigo or Blaine? He can't be both. The hunter threw a dagger stare at the outraised hand. It was foretold that the Wendigo infects its host slowly, tormenting them as it takes over the mind and body – the few who returned from the woods never returned sane. What about the Wendigo that took Burt?
He glanced at the outstretched hand once more, his anger dying down slowly like a withering flame.
Without a word, he nodded, ignoring the wide spread palm.
"I'm doing this because we need to find Burt." He muttered, white knuckles from clenching his fist too hard and gritted teeth from effort to remain calm.
"Try that move again, Anderson," The hunter flushed red, "And I'll cut off your tongue."
Blaine's face was unreadable.
He nodded nonetheless and pointed to the entrance to the Wendigo cave – a damp dark looking tunnel, spiralling down to a section of the icy cavern. Stepping carefully over the roots that knotted the pathway, freshly fallen snow seeping onto their boots, Kurt hunched down into the beast-sized dirt path and moved, ardently aware of the beast-human in front of him. Wisely enough, Blaine chose to keep mum.
He followed Blaine's leaping figure, half-dreading to see Burt, what had the Wendigo done to him?
Behind, he heard the unfurling of wooden roots and turned around just in time to see the opening of the tree entrance close off by itself. They continued in silence before Kurt found it too deafening. He snorted inwardly at that, having wholly disliked Blaine's over-zealousness when it came to conversations. For once, the silence felt disappointing. He touched his lips again, uncertain whether he ought to feel incensed.
"Why?" he enquired soundlessly. "At least answer my one question."
Blaine visibly froze up, almost tripping on the snow-soaked snow, he turned around, facial features almost indecipherable under the dim lit tunnel.
"Why I became a Wendigo?" His breath felt uncomfortably close.
Kurt pursed his lips.
"No, I want to know why your hair's always in a mess." He scorned, sarcasm dripping.
Blaine's brows furrowed.
"What – I mean if you really want to know –"
"No Blaine, I don't." Kurt cut in sharply, rolling his eyes.
"Why did you become a Wendigo?"
There was silence.
Blaine turned around and continued trekking through the tunnel, "It's a long story, Kurt. Please understand if I do not wish to discuss it now."
Kurt gritted his teeth.
"Fine. Then why is Cooper coming after you?"
Blaine shook his head.
"Not now."
"Why don't you look like the beast?"
"Could you not call it a beast? It really isn't one." Blaine sounded offended. "I told you, I'm Blaine."
"But you are a Wendigo." Kurt snapped, grabbing onto the other's jacket lapels and halting him. "How is it possible that you are still sane – still alive?"
Blaine frowned.
"I told you, it's a long story. One that preferably should be told later, once we are out of danger."
The boy seemed unfathomable.
Kurt Hummel had quite about enough.
"If you are a Wendigo, why are you afraid of the Wendigo?" The hunter snarled, shaking Blaine harshly. "You drag me into this, ask me to trust you but you can't even answer one simple question!"
"The Wendigo isn't dangerous. Burt is still alive, I'm sure of it. I'm just afraid of Cooper – the other hunters – they are hunting us all down."
"The Wendigo isn't dangerous?" Kurt let out a snide snort. "I beg to differ."
"You don't understand!" Blaine snatched his lapels away, hurriedly folding his arms across his chest. In the dim light, his hazel pools glistened unnaturally.
"No, you don't understand." Kurt bared his teeth. "I lost so many things – people – to that beast."
"Do you hate the creatures of this forest?" Blane bit back coldly. "Is that why you hunt them down? Pin them up like trophies to collect?"
There was a short pause.
A rush of wind and Kurt had Blaine pinned up against the soft soil of the tunnel, his arm pressed against the neck of the latter, hand on his arrow.
"I hunt to survive." He rumbled, voice low.
Blaine's lips cracked into a smile.
"So do they."
"Explain the Wendigo then." Kurt hissed back unkindly, pressing his arm firmer against the boy. "It took the children!"
The hunter curled his upper lip, the heart-breaking memory of his mother dying to the beast.
"It took her."
Blaine shook his head.
"You do not understand, Kurt. Your mother died because she wanted to protect you –"
"Do not speak of her so casually." Kurt rammed his arm brutally, causing Blaine to choke and splutter.
"I can't explain everything to you right now," The hazel eyed boy grunted, side-eyeing Kurt with malice. "We are wasting time, Cooper might find us before we can find Burt."
Shoving him one last time, Kurt found himself backing off gradually.
The temperature dropped harshly as he finally entered the massive underground chamber, sending a violent chill down his spine. Light reached neither wall nor ceiling, confining vision to a small area of cracks cast by moonlight, jagged teeth of stone descending from the shadows above. Kurt's footfalls echoed in the cavern, his heart in his mouth. It was all too familiar.
His pale blue eyes travelled every nook and cranny of the beast's cave, each protruding rock formation like a stab to his mind. It hurt to remember. He was just a child when he first entered the Wendigo's abode, have naught a second thought about the monster that laid within the ice.
Pulling an arrow from his quiver, blue flames travelled to the tip of the shaft, illuminating the cave with an odd caerulean glow.
Beside him, he felt Blaine's questioning gaze.
Kurt rolled his eyes.
"You know why." He snapped, "Stop staring at it."
"I know why," The Wendigo (Blaine?) huffed back, eyes glued to the flickering blue flames. "I don't know how."
The hunter ignored him, side-stepping away and began searching behind the large rocks that littered the cave. From what he knew, the Wendigo stocks its prey away, hiding its catch in its lair, allowing the beast to feed on it whenever it wants. If Blaine was speaking the truth, Burt could still be alive – hidden somewhere in the cave.
The Wendigo's cavern wasn't extremely big, Kurt noted, the problem of finding Burt was the uneven rocks littered throughout, blocking light from ever reaching certain corner of the cave. Kurt moved deeper into the chamber, eyes scanning the dark cave, pushing forward after each section had been thoroughly covered.
No sign of Burt.
"Kurt," Blaine's voice wavered, echoing behind him. "I think I might know where he is."
The hunter whipped his head around to glower at the other.
"Where is he?"
"Look up."
Kurt's eyes travelled to the direction that Blaine had pointed at. Above, the jagged stones covered the ceiling, some looking like icicles – Kurt's heart stopped. With the blue glow from his flames, he could finally see the distinct frozen sea of blank faces staring back at him.
Humans. All hanging from the ceiling, frozen in ice.
The hunter's eyes widened, breaths suddenly ragged and harsh. His hands trembled at his sides, eyes darting left and right, searching for a familiar tuff of brown hair. Behind him, he heard Blaine suck a deep breath in. Kurt's legs twitched, fighting the impulse to whirl around and strangle the beast – the boy? - the thing that caused all the awful instances of his life.
"What is this?" Kurt crunched his teeth over his lip harder than he ever had.
"This is new." Blaine replied humourlessly, almost in a whisper. "He usually keeps them on the ground."
The hunter's eyebrow twitched.
Was he actually joking? At a time like this?
At that moment, the hunter was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying as his fist came in contact with Blaine's cheek.
The curly haired boy yelped in pain, hazel eyes meeting Kurt's own pools of rage.
"I'm trying to lighten up the mood!" Blaine hissed, grabbing Kurt's wrist. "Burt is safe, trust me!"
"Safe?" Kurt spat, using his free hand to try to claw off Blaine's, "Frozen, hanging on the ceiling of this god-forsaken cave – like some piece of meat – you call that safe?"
The curly haired boy shook his head.
"I'm sure he's safer up there than on the ground."
"Oh fuck you, Blaine!" Kurt jammed his foot onto the other's ankles, earning an "oof" of pain and setting free his wrist from the tight grip.
Blaine stepped away, rubbing his ankle, looking a lot like a hurt puppy. The hunter let out a livid growl of frustration, his presence seemed to buzz around the hunter like a fly he could never swat. Every word, movement and breath he performed seemed to infuriate him to no end.
Yet somehow, Kurt felt his heart tremble, like a homemade sweater, Blaine's presence was comforting (still itchy and irritable in comfort).
His voice lowered dangerously.
"I'm at my limit, Anderson." He snarled, showing his teeth. "If Burt – if not for him, you would've been dead by now. I've been dragged –"
Kurt's voice hitched, face flushing.
" - aimlessly by your snivelling wretch of a brother who pretended to be as thick as a 300-year-old oak's tree trunk, forced to work together with that smelly skulking scoundrel Sebastian and all that just to get my Dad –"
The hunter clenched his fists.
"The only person I have left in my life – captured and stored in this cavern like some sort of preserved meat ready to serve up to that beast for lunch."
The hunter trembled, his brain finally picking up his feet in an unbalanced gait, carelessly dropping the lead weights to the ground with each harrowing step. Reality tapped it way into his marching brain's rhythm. Burt was going to die. He was helpless.
Stopping a few inches in front of Blaine, breaths ragged and harsh, he grabbed the other's lapels, pulling him closer.
"And you," Kurt could hear the tears in his voice. "You stand here and mock me."
Blaine's face was unreadable.
"The Wendingo never took the children." He finally spoke, mist ghosting from his lips. "It's just a folklore to keep kids from running into the woods at night."
Kurt blinked.
"And these frozen carcasses are what – mannequins?" He rebuked, loosening his grip on Blaine, eyes travelling to the icicles on the ceiling, "They are human."
"They are monsters." Blaine fought back, eyes hard. "They are thieves, scoundrels, beasts that come into these woods and kill the creatures that live here in peace."
Kurt felt his heart stop in place.
"Hunters, Kurt." Blaine's mouth was in a tight-lipped frown. "Hunters like you, like Sebastian, like Burt."
The brunette shook his head, annoyed. "We hunt to survive. What were we supposed to do? Let the werewolves tear through the town?"
"Who do you think let the werewolves into the town in the first place?" The hazel eyes of Blaine blazed, the first time Kurt saw real rage in the other's eyes. "They have claws, you have guns."
Kurt frowned.
"Why are you getting mad at me? We were merely doing the duty of hunters, to keep the town safe. Whoever it was who let the creatures in does not matter to me."
He saw Blaine's eyes narrow.
"We were keeping the innocents safe, Anderson. Tell me how that makes the hunters," He paused, "monsters?"
Blaine sighed deeply.
"Listen to yourself Kurt! The hunters come into this forest and destroy the homes of the creatures and when they try to protect their own kind, they get hunted down and killed! They were just protecting themselves, they were just keeping the innocents safe as well!"
The hunter watched the curly haired boy grit his teeth.
"Tell me then Kurt,"
Face unreadable, Blaine grabbed Kurt's shoulders.
"How does that make the monsters in this forest any different from any hunter?"
Word left Kurt. He stared speechlessly into those hazel eyes and he couldn't will his lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as Blaine pointed an accusing finger at him.
"You might sob for your own mother, but have you ever thought about the creatures you've killed? How about those who wail for their mothers too? Have you ever thought that these creatures you dubbed as 'monsters' are exactly like you? Those werewolves we killed back there…"
Blaine shut his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Do I deserve to die too?"
The hunter looked away.
Kurt tried not to harm the creatures – his mother always told him not to – but – his mind brought him back to the sound of gunshots and blood that splattered through the snowy white grounds, the of creatures with claws and teeth thudding against the ground as they convulsed and twitched, the life in their eyes fading slowly until the iris merged with the whites, a chalk coloured froth clouding its mouth – ever-consuming darkness awaiting.
Blaine grabbed his chin, forcing Kurt gaze on his own.
"Answer me, Kurt!" He sounded hurt, eyes desperately searching Kurt's own expectantly.
The hunter could not speak.
There was a pregnant pause before Blaine finally spoke.
"I thought you were different, Kurt Hummel, but the truth is you haven't killed me because I look like a human." he undertoned. "You would not hesitate to stick a bullet in my head if I looked like one of your monsters."
His eyes were the colour of milk chocolate edged with a deep forest-green. The two colours seemed to swirl together like moss creeping over rich soil as he blinked, droplets of tears brimming along the edge.
"It's true. I would've killed you without a moment's hesitation if you never looked like this." Kurt spoke, voice trembling, "But I am not like Smythe, or Berry's. Why do you think we quit hunting?"
He clenched his fists.
"I know, Blaine. I know I am not some martyr, I'm not superior because I choose not to hurt some creatures. I am sorry if you feel that way."
Taking in deep breath in, he glared coldly at Blaine.
"But if it comes to it, if I have to kill the Wendingo to protect Burt, I will."
There was a pause.
Blaine sniffled.
"You don't deserve to die." Kurt added quietly. "No one does."
"Are you sure?"
Kurt froze.
He heard it coming; the soft sussuration of its footsteps, like a threating whisper. It didn't seem to come from any direction, just a sound that encapsulated him inside a cocoon of fear.
Wendingo.