Thanks, as always, to those still reading this strangeness! And thanks also to those who've reviewed. Much appreciated, my friends.

It would replay in Virgil's mind for hours afterwards. Closing his eyes, he would see Scott fall, revealing the Wendigo behind him, sharp teeth bared and eyes boring into his own.

The Wendigo's skin was dull grey, mottled in places, the perfect camouflage in dusk and dawn light, near invisible at night. It was taller than John, appearing starved to the bone, sharp joints stretching its skin taut. There the human characteristics ended. Long fingers tapered into points, claws like talons. It moved with feline grace and power, snarling like a wild dog, pausing to scent the air.

All Virgil saw was danger.

He darted back towards his fallen brother, shouting at John to keep moving. He saw the Wendigo lift Scott with one terrible hand, Hayley already upon its shoulder. Ignoring the way his older brother hung with rag doll indifference within the creature's grasp and summoning his ability, Virgil shouted a challenge.

The Wendigo turned to meet Virgil's headlong rush, throwing Scott and Hayley to the ground as it launched itself forwards. Virgil had known to expect speed, but it still took him by surprise. Barely managing to get a mental barrier between the two of them in time, Virgil braced himself for impact. The creature slammed into him, raking the energy force Virgil had built as it did so. He was unable to match the speed with which the creature moved; as the Wendigo slashed across his body, two claws ripped into the unprotected muscle of Virgil's right thigh.

Virgil fell to the ground heavily, extending and holding the field despite the agony burning from his injured leg and the trickle of blood he felt running from his nose. The impact of the Wendigo upon his shield had felt like a sledgehammer and it continued to rain blows down on him as it attempted to rip him apart. Virgil cried out, teeth clenched, against the onslaught.

Independent thought, and a fair amount of stubbornness, were Tracy tendencies, inherited from both parents. Even John, third born and considered the most logical of the five, hadn't escaped the trait. As soon as he'd seen Virgil rush the creature, he'd ignored the order to run and put his considerable mind to work. Now, knowing his brother could only hold out moments before his shield faltered, he made his decision.

Wendigo's had once been human. John was relying on something of that humanity remaining. He extended his thoughts to take in those of the creatures and as his subconscious brushed against its mind, the Wendigo straightened from Virgil. John breathed out, frightened but determined.

"Come on," he called. "Come and talk to me."

The Wendigo stepped over Virgil, who rolled over weakly to follow it, reaching out one hand as the other clamped down on his bloodied thigh.

"Johnny," he whispered. "Don't."

John ignored his brother, focusing on the creature. He gathered his thoughts and attempted to place an instruction within the creature's mind. It wasn't normally how his abilities worked, but necessity being the mother of invention, he was willing to take a risk. John was hoping he might be able to use its humanity to get through to it and use its animal part against it. If he could control something with less human traits, he'd take it. He focused on the Wendigo's mind again and pushed.

The mind he entered was without thought. Instincts were strong; hunger, anger and fear predominant, but there was nothing left of the thing's human beginnings and with a sense of panic, John tried to back away, horrified to discover the way he'd travelled was suddenly blocked. His own mind was becoming flooded with the Wendigo's slavering impulses and terrified, John found himself ensnared.

Virgil watched as his younger brother's eyes rolled back inside his head and he became the final member of their party to fall to the ground.

"John!"

Virgil dragged himself towards him as best he could, his energy field breaking around him. He didn't get very far. The Wendigo scooped the blond onto its shoulder, repositioning him to add Scott and Hayley before turning back to the other man. Virgil held its gaze as it moved towards him. Long, cruel claws hooked into his jacket with a strange delicacy and he was lifted into the air. The pain of his injury finally becoming too much, Virgil lost consciousness.

It was with a sense of trepidation that Alan and Gary made their way to Tommy's campsite. It had been a long morning, broken only by the sound of Alan's cough. Gary simply didn't know what to say anymore and Alan was too wrapped in his own world of misery to care.

He hoped they'd find Scott and the other's there. They could be as angry with him as they wanted, Alan'd take it over this loneliness any day. If they weren't at Tommy's camp, he had no idea where they might have moved on to and Alan was seriously considering asking Gary that they go back to town. The twelve year old had had enough. He was aching with the cold now, walking with his arms wrapped tightly about himself, head bowed and driving himself nearly mad with worry.

He'd left Gordon yesterday afternoon. Even allowing for the amount of time Gordon liked to sleep and his tiredness, the red haired Tracy would have discovered his absence by now. He'd be angry, but at least this would be over. Only, it wasn't.

With a single thought, Gordon could be at his side. So why wasn't he? Had Alan made him so mad he'd decided to leave him to fend for himself? It didn't sound like Gordon, but their past was littered with periods where Gordon would hide from everyone in the house to cool down. Was now a more extreme version of that?

Or had something happened to his brother? Was he somehow unable to rush to Alan, injured or sick or captured or … Alan's thoughts chased each other through his mind again and again until with an angry shake of his head, he indulged in his favourite scenario so far. Maybe Scott, Virgil and John had found Dad? They'd taken him back to town last night and everyone was so glad, they'd forgotten about him. They were just about to come get him, actually.

"Oh, shit."

Gary's whispered expletive abruptly ended the fantasy and Alan bumped into the older boy, having not seen him stop. Peering around Gary's shoulder, Alan's jaw dropped. With a cry of alarm, Gary headed into the small clearing, unknowingly imitating his sister's actions the evening before. Alan followed at a slower pace, huge eyes taking in the awful carnage until he could look no more. Averting his gaze, he spotted a broken games console lying abandoned on the ground and impulsively, he bent to pick it up.

His vision dimmed as he was plunged into the past, the scene travelling before his eyes so fast it was hard to make out individual details. It took Alan a moment to realise he was seeing the attack on Tommy's camp. His breath stuttered in his chest as a man about John's age was snatched into the night, his only legacy a ringing scream and the scattering of red stains.

Gordon was in a bad way. He was on his way to starvation with his metabolism burning too much fat too fast and his body rejecting food, and that was leading to hypoglycaemia. His skin was clammy, his head pounded and he was trembling. The woman at the store must have thought he was coming down from something, especially as he only brought orange juice and sugar. The red head was long past caring what anyone else thought.

Gordon's hands shook as he lifted the bottle of juice, heapings of sugar added. He hoped he could keep it down, the memory of the disastrous chocolate surfacing in his mind. He was now well past the stage a candy bar would help, and he knew Virgil was going to give him a lecture on looking after himself properly if he ever found out.

He grimaced at the taste of the sweetened juice and held himself still as he waited to see if his stomach would hold the mouthful of liquid. Experience had taught him not rush it and not to force down too much unless he wanted to see it again ten minutes later. It tasted bad going down, but that was nothing compared to it coming back up. He gingerly took another sip and made more of the concoction, pouring sugar from the bag directly into the second juice bottle, shaking it swiftly.

Gordon hadn't forgotten the reason he had put himself into his current state. He'd been unable to find Alan, and when Gordon had finally admitted defeat and sought to bring his brothers in on the search, he'd found he'd drained himself to the point he wasn't able to locate them either. He'd come back to town, taken stock and now he crouched in an alley, looking for all the world like an addict on a bad trip and hoping he was going to be able to go on long enough to return to the mountain and get to a close enough distance to find his brothers. Any of them right now would be welcome, even if Scott did threaten to string him up from his intestines.

Gordon swallowed another mouthful, assessing his condition. Hunger and anxiety were common symptoms of hypoglycaemia and he was feeling both of those, although each of them could very easily be attributed to the fact his little brother was missing on a mountain with a monster on the loose and he had spent the entire night jumping from spot to spot looking for him. Anyone would be hungry, not to mention panicky with worry. His skin was still clammy, but he wasn't sweating as much as he previously had been, his headache was easing slightly also. The juice was working, apparently. And staying put in his stomach, much to his relief.

He wasn't having difficulty in thinking, concentrating and nor was he confused. He wasn't in what he liked to call the 'bad' stage of hypoglycaemia yet, although Virgil would point out any stage of it should be considered bad and avoided at all costs. Certainly, none of it was fun. And after those symptoms, Gordon could expect seizures and a coma and although he'd never come close to either of those, he raised the juice bottle again with new determination.

He stood, noticing the tremble but choosing to ignore it. Alan wasn't being found on his own and Gordon had a job to do. Would Batman give up? Never. A bottle of juice in each hand, Gordon travelled to the mountain. He landed with a wobble, tripping over and into a bush. Holding his head in his hands, Gordon sighed. He was willing to lay odds that Batman never had a day like this.

Alan shut his eyes, but the images continued to play out. Another boy, torn and bleeding, wept brokenly by his side. Instinctively, Alan knew neither of these were Gary's brother and he anxiously glanced around for Tommy. He was lying unconscious in the centre of the camp amid the wreckage of their tents, a gash on his forehead bleeding slowly and his fingers still curled around the cracked games console Alan now held. As he watched, something from the dark lifted Tommy and turned to the third boy. He couldn't make out much of the creature, apart from its height and the stench of decay that emanated from it, but the injured man at his feet whimpered, begging. He too was lifted, screaming now, and as the creature left, it passed through Alan as if he didn't exist.

The strange non-contact evoked a new scene, daylight now, although fading fast, the violence of the night undiminished by the sun. For several seconds Alan thought he was back where he belonged, until he saw Hayley kneeling not far from where Gary sat, dazed. Spinning around, Alan let out a cry of joy as his oldest brother entered the camp, wordlessly supporting Hayley.

Scott, so often the foundation on which they rested their worries, allowed the girl to hide her face in his shoulder. Alan could understand her reaction. Scott made him feel safe too. He was the wall that sheltered them from their troubles and protected them against any threat. Alan wanted to run to him now, to be swept up in that loving embrace and hidden from the dark and the thing that hunted through it.

His elation rose when he saw John. Patient and understanding, seeking enlightenment and holding his own light so high, Alan could join him in its glow, John was Alan's mentor. Since Alan had been small, John had shared his love of space with him gladly, teaching him without reservation and with endless joy. And from John, Alan had learnt more than what space contained, his quiet brother was a never-ending source of information and life lessons.

While Gary remained oblivious and a man Alan didn't recognise went through the debris and the remnants of the tents, Alan watched his brothers, absorbing the sight of them, glad simply to know they had stood where he was now. But one was missing and Alan sought out Virgil, worry biting sharply when he couldn't find him.

Scott had left Hayley by now, speaking to John and thankfully, Virgil emerged from the trees. Alan, as he had done with the others, studied his second oldest brother.

While not as tall as the others, Virgil was broader, more muscled in the shoulders. Most people didn't expect Virgil's gentleness, his physique a first impression but his calm dependability a lasting one. Alan couldn't count how many times he'd cried within the mighty embrace as a child, Virgil letting him work through his pain even as he set about fixing it. Friends had told Alan, awed and fascinated, that Virgil could cause serious damage, uncomprehending when Alan replied that Virgil would never want to.

Alan gazed at his three oldest brothers happily, the familiarity of their movements and habits a deep comfort. He found himself smiling and Scott seemed to look at Alan then. The boy held his breath, wondering if his brother could see him, but he turned to the strange man, crouching down to talk to him. After a moment, the group left. Scott was the last, turning and looking in Alan's direction one final time.

Alan blinked awake, moving to Gary even before he was fully conscious of his decision and almost falling in his haste.

"Come on," he urged, tugging on the boy's sleeve. "We have to go."

Gary gazed back, vacant and grief stricken. He didn't listen as Alan urged him up once more.

"No one could have survived this," he murmured, dropping his eyes from Alan's and staring at the wreckage, devastated. "Tommy's dead."

Alan shook his head impatiently. Seeing his brothers had rejuvenated his flagging spirits again and he was eager to follow the direction Scott had taken.

"He's not dead," he insisted quickly. "I saw him, he's alive."

Gary frowned. "What? Where did you see him?"

"Here. On the night of the attack."

"How could you have been here?" Gary demanded, rising to his feet. "This isn't funny kid, my brother's dead!"

"I had a premonition," Alan snapped, forgetting that Gary wouldn't understand what he was talking about. He coughed harshly, phlegm breaking in his chest, but forced himself on. "I saw the attack and I saw the thing take Tommy. Then I saw my brothers find this place and I saw which way they left."

"You're crazy," Gary told him, face flushing red with anger. "Delusional."

Alan frowned, almost as angry. "No I'm not," he insisted, shivering.

"Prove it," Gary taunted.

Alan paused for a moment, trying to remember the details of what he'd seen. "Tommy was wearing a green jacket," he began. "It's really old, one of the pocket's half torn off."

Gary paled. "He was really alive?" he asked quietly. "Really?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "And Hayley was with my brothers. She was sad, but Scott made her feel better."

"How do you know that?" Gary breathed.

"I saw it," Alan replied simply. He gazed in the direction he had seen his family take, tugging his jacket tighter about him. "Can we go now?"

Gary gazed at the campsite, nodding absently and following Alan back into the woods. After about a minute, Alan remembered the creature who'd caused so much damage, who had Tommy and was still roaming the woods. Suddenly every shadow harboured a demon, every leaf rustle became a threat and Alan inched closer to Gary. The older teen seemed to feel just as spooked and broke the silence in a loud voice.

"You have premonitions?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "Out of nowhere."

"Kid, that's not normal."

"Tell me about it," Alan agreed darkly.

Virgil came to with a bump, literally, as he was deposited roughly on the ground. Not knowing where he was, he twisted to look about him, crying out as pain flared through his leg, bringing memory with it.

"John! Scotty!"

Moving more carefully this time, Virgil continued to gaze about him, his hand covering the worst of his wound and keeping pressure on the small amount of bleeding. He'd been out some time, then. It was dark, wherever he was, and cold. Movement caught his eye, hanging bodies he discovered to his horror. The Wendigo was moving between them, fastening his recent takes. Virgil forgot about his leg again when he saw the creature lift Scott's bound wrists and slide them over a hook hanging from a beam in the roof.

"No!" Virgil cried weakly, drained of energy. "Don't."

The Wendigo ignored him, stringing Hayley up beside his brother. Both remained unconscious, and Virgil dreaded to think of the concussions they might be nursing. He watched as the monster moved to the side, bending down to lift John from the ground. Giving the blond a little shake, it soon lost interest, dropping him back. Virgil winced as he saw his brother's skull bounce against the ground. Finally, the Wendigo turned its attention to Virgil.

The twenty-five year old held his breath, eyes nervously scanning its face. It held rope in what were once its hands, reaching down to prise Virgil's' hand from his thigh and roughly tying his wrists together, ignoring his struggles. It stood, going back to its hanging victims. Virgil couldn't see a spare hook, and taking a risk, he began to move towards John, intent on checking his condition. Minds weren't his expertise, but he needed to do something for his brother. The creature tugged him back harshly, his injured thigh scraping along the ground.

Virgil gritted his teeth in agony, a fresh flow of blood running warm on his skin, and the Wendigo secured his bound hands to a support beam. Without another thought for its captives, the monster left and Virgil struggled against his bindings, calling his brother's names hoarsely.

His voice returned, echoing mockingly.