Pack mentality, Hannah thinks, is rather odd.
Or maybe, she thinks while shifting carefully—and rather uncomfortably, it IS winter after all, and damn snow is covering pretty much everything, her sitting place included—as to not disturb the… she guesses he is meditating, although how on Earth is beyond her—figure near her; maybe, it's the human way of thinking that is truly odd, and everything else pales in comparison.
"Whatever you are thinking right now, you're thinking it way too hard." A deep baritone, combined with rather animalistic (although Hannah's pretty sure no animal, even the most dangerous predators, can produce sounds this terrifying) growl, states from beside her—and nearly makes the older Washington sister jump in her seat.
"You need to relax." Gordon continues. His charred form remains unmoving but his eyes, milky white and devoid of any emotion but hunger, immediately fix on Hannah. Hunter instincts, Hannah guesses. If Gordon—or any of the miners for that matter—would have been human still… But none of them are, Hannah reminds herself sadly.
"Relax" he says. She sighs rather exasperatedly.
Earlier this week she had a pretty loud argument with her parents. The subject Bob and Melinda touched proved to be indeed touchy, but, to Hannah's dismay, one way or another it needed to be touched. She dreaded the moment, though.
"Honey," her mother started rather awkwardly, "how are you been doing lately?"
Hannah mentally snorted.
Josh for some odd reason was nowhere to be found, so it was the talk between the three of them. And Hannah had a sinking suspicion her brother is up to no good. After that stupid prank their "friends" had pulled, Beth's death and Hannah's monthly absence, the youngest Washington become more reclusive—less so when it comes to his family maybe, but Josh ceased any form of communication with their usual party. He once confessed to Hannah that he only talked to Sam twice and once with Chris—and considering that the time period in question is a whole year, "not much" is an understatement. Luckily for them, neither Samantha nor Christopher had a hand in the fateful disaster, so the fact Josh still talks to them is good. (Probably, Hannah thinks.) And both of them turned out to be considerate enough to give the Washingtons some space—most likely they're still mourning on their own. As for Hannah herself, she's been pointedly ignoring any stray thought that even hinted the mere possibility of communication with someone from that one guest list. Josh supported her wholeheartedly and without question in this, while their parents were actually concerned, but made every attempt to conceal it.
Up until now, it seems, Hannah thought.
"I'm fine, Mom." She answered, smiling slightly.
"Uh, that… that's great!" Even if her mother was taken aback by how calm and collected she sounds, she doesn't show it. Melinda smiled back.
"Hannah, darling," Bob interjects. Her father never had a lot of patience, nor has he much love for awkward situations, "it's been a whole year now…"
"Bob, really," Melinda scrunched her nose and glared at her husband.
Hannah internally snorted again.
"What your father is trying to say," her mother continued, still glaring at Bob, and nope, this is absolutely not the most awkward conversation in Hannah's life. Not. At. All, "is that we understand. We all know your pain, honey. Beth was not only your twin sister, she was our daughter. We know you're still mourning, and that it is hard for you. But you are burying yourself in grief and that is not an answer! I'm sure Beth wouldn't want you to…"
"I'm not burying myself." Hannah protested, somewhat proud of how stern she sounded.
"But you haven't talked to anyone." Bob points out. Which is not untrue, Hannah has to—grudgingly—admit.
"Which is fair," Hannah drawled, "considering that people I used to hang out with are partially the reason I now have to mourn."
"Fair." Melinda agreed. "But you don't just not talk to them. You don't talk to anyone." She shook her head. "You and Beth used to have a lot of friends. And you stopped talking with all of them."
But I AM talking to people, Hannah thought. That said "people" are a bunch of hundred–years–old cursed cannibals, however, is not something her parents need to know. Or anyone, for that matter.
Hannah snorted yet again—this time out loud.
"Shutting yourself out is not an answer either." Her mother firmly says, and Hannah can practically feel the tiny tendrils of dread clinging to her spine. That tone of Melinda's could only mean one thing.
"What are you both up to…?"
… and earlier this day, shortly after her arrival to the ruined Sanatorium turned Wendigo hideout, Hannah had to threaten a bunch of local residents to physically restrain them all if she hears yet another promise to rip to shreds and eat anyone who comes to Blackwood. Who would've thought that evil cannibalistic spirits can be such mother hens.
The combined screeching outrage of dozen Wendigos has very nearly left her deaf.
"So to qualify." Jeremy, who used to be the oldest miner in the group, back in the day, cocked his malformed head while staring unblinkingly in Hannah's general direction. "Your so–called "friends" decided that your feelings can be used to publically humiliate you and had no consideration for what kind of emotional response such thing would cause. Also, they might not had the intention to do so, but the aforementioned humiliation resulted in the death of someone you love and you being physically hurt, not to mention emotionally devastated." Pause. "Why can't we feckin' rip them, again?"
"And here I thought when I was doing my Psychology lessons, you weren't paying attention." Hannah giggled while sticking a finger into her still ringing ear. "Also, no ripping and eating anyone on my watch, please." She scrunched her nose and shook her head. (She had to admit, though, the idea was kinda tempting.)
"After that much trouble…" "… that's what they deserve."
Gerald and Martin were twins. Even as Wendigos they tend to hunt, stalk—do pretty much everything—as a duo. And when they talked they finished each other's sentences. They also were the youngest of the group—barely into their nineteens, before the cave in happened, as Hannah had learned,—so it wasn't exactly surprising that out of the lot, they tended to act like unruly teenagers the most.
"Trouble is not the word I'd use." Hannah sighed. "And it's not like I can argue with my parents. Without raising any suspicion that I'm up to something, that is. I cannot just announce that you guys exist, now, can I?"
"We can always…" "… eat them, too." The duo pointed out. That earned them an eye roll from Hannah and hefty smacks from Billy.
"Why them?" Gordon asked, interrupting any possible screaming matches. The Makkapitew's blackened form looked even more malicious in the dim lighting. Gordon's voice, however, was an epitome of sympathy. "And not someone else? And what are you going to do?"
"Availability, my man." Hannah shrugged, bouncing slightly on her feet. "Out of everyone I know, only they have a time and space in their schedule to come visit. Plus, they are expected to make amends. As for what I'll do…"
Now that's a question Hannah kept asking herself for the past couple of days.
The need to slam her head over something suddenly become overwhelming.
"I really," Hannah let out a heavy sigh, "really, really have no idea. I mean, look. There's a bunch of people who I used to call "friends", and then there's this guy who I may or may not had a crush on, and that's not something people easily forget, no matter the circumstance."
And when Wendigo's stare becomes both hungry and sympathetic, Hannah thinks, that's a new high or a new low?
The former, she hopes.
"When a guy you love does something and someone else you love dies, that's not exactly a basis for a healthy relationship, if you ask my opinion." Billy drawled. It was perfectly clear to everyone present—Bates was pissed off. Royally.
"I am, in fact, asking your opinion." Hannah says fondly.
"Also, you cheated on…" "… your wife, in case you've forgotten."
If a Wendigo could blush, Hannah thought, amused, at the sight of Billy slowly turning to the instantly cowering Martin and Ger and then jumping at them without so much a sound. She actually laughed when the two smaller Wendigos actually squeaked and practically threw themselves on a nearest wall.
"He's a beauty, he's a grace, he'll rip and eat your God–damn face!" Hannah declared loudly, still laughing. That earned her a round of exited screeching—and another round of her ears ringing.
Sometime later, Hannah found herself sitting on a fence of the Sanatorium, with Gordon clawing at snow and stone beside her. Makkapitew's bulging pale eyes appeared to be almost glowing in the dark of the night while he scanned his surroundings, ever searching the next prey of fresh meat and warm blood. Sometimes Hannah wonders, just how on Earth she managed not to become one.
"Billl's still chasing the gremlin duo over the wards." Gordon continues after a short pause. Which is true: Hannah could hear the faintest of—decidedly angry—screeches every now and then.
"He's… upset," Bennet states, "with this whole situation. And honestly, I can't blame him."
"Understatement of the century." Hannah mutters. "Give him another reason, he'll turn this place into rubble. Never thought I'd see him this outraged."
"He cares about you." Gordon says. "Basically, you're the only thing that keeps him—all of us, for that matter—in touch with what is left of his—our—humanity. If not for you, we'd still be consumed by our curse, single–mindedly roaming around, waiting for the next hapless human to fall into our claws and devour them."
Hannah knows that. Back in the day, when she was first introduced to the pack, the Wendigos explained the semantics of this new, freshly–spawned "thing" of theirs. The Washington somehow managed to appeal to some, miraculously untouched, parts of Billy's former, human self, and this created a bond between them. More importantly, this bond is now affecting the entire pack.
"Consider yourself lucky." Gordon said then. He looked absolutely horrible: burned, covered in soot, thawed snow and God only knows what else, with blood drying on his grey skin. But his voice—human part of it, not the screechy undertone—sounded tired to Hannah's ears, incredibly so. "Normally, we don't talk to our prey. Hell," he suddenly barked out some sort of hoarse laughter, "I didn't even remember I used to talk—that I can talk!—before today." That was also part of the bond, he explained. Such thing is rare, so rare, and it had never happened to them before.
"Wait a sec." Hannah said, confused. "If that never happened to you, then how do you know how it works?"
"It's the spirits." Billy answered from beside her.
"We're not just cursed, girl." Gordon explained. "We become like this because we did an atrocity—we tasted human flesh, and then we become possessed by the evil spirits of the mountain. And now that you "awoke" Billy—and by extension of the pack bond, us all—the human and the evil spirit are separate once more, as it is at the beginning of the process. Taking over a human form do take some time, after all."
"I, for example," he gestured on his form, "am possessed by Makkapitew, the greater, more powerful of the spirits. He can lend me some of his knowledge. Not that he's particularly fond of the idea, mind you. In fact," and Gordon sounded almost amused, "he is terribly annoyed right now. At you, because you're the one who caused all this, and at all the questions you're asking."
"Well, I don't want to be horribly mutilated or eaten alive," Hannah practically yelled, "so I'm going to ask these questions and he may go fuck himself!"
The resulting screech got her pretty terrified. Later she learnt, though, that it was a Wendigo equivalent of humorous laughter, and stopped being afraid of it. Now it's just a screech that randomly tends to be a disaster to her ears.
"And, of course," Gordon continues, "he doesn't want to see you hurt. And meeting the exact same people who caused you the most damage will hurt you, regardless of how prepared you think you are."
"Touching." Hannah drawls. "Really, I'm feeling all the love." Gordon just snorts and takes his time at rearranging his limbs.
They sit in silence that is oddly companionable, given the circumstance.
"What," Hannah finally asks, suddenly uncertain, and wonders, just how exactly her life took a turn that she now has to ask a creature of myth for a boy advice, "do you think I should do?"
"Well," Bennet straightens a wee bit. His bones quietly crack at the movement, "you do need to meet those people, to resolve some of the issues and all… but. Nobody says you should constantly be in their presence. Outlets are important, you know?"
"You're going to be my therapy?" Washington smiles slightly.
"No. We are going to be your therapy. If you feel you're reaching your communication limit, you can always come to us." If he still had his human face, Hannah thinks, Gordon might be grinning right now. "After all, there's nobody like a possessed cannibal to talk to about… well, anything, really."
Hannah snorts, then laughs, then sighs.
"Fine, fine. I get it. I will talk with them and try and resolve my problems, like a responsible adult."
"Which is easier said than done. " Gordon semi–growls sympathetically and oh, this is exactly what Hannah was thinking herself!
"You sure you're not a telepath?" she squints at Gordon while he makes a screeching sound that would have been considered absolutely horrendous by everyone—except Hannah, who does get to hear a quiet human chuckle underneath it.
"I am not," the ex–Dr states amusedly, "it's you who is rather obvious—painfully so, I might add—even to someone who normally doesn't care, like us Wendigos."
"And yet, I haven't been eaten." Hannah mutters under her nose, completely embarrassed. That only gets her another screech—and a light pat on a shoulder. Turning her head, Hannah looks quizzically at the huge claw poking her. Churned and malformed, clawed hand slowly raises and ever so carefully pats Hannah's head.
"You won't be. After all, you are the part of our pack now. Regardless of what some evil spirit says."
"Lemme guess," even though she knows Gordon cannot see her in human sight, Hannah still grins. "Makkapitew greatly disapproves?"
Maybe she has lost her mind completely, Hannah thinks, listening to the ex–Doctor's hoarse laughter and at some point joining him, but, well. There's nobody like a possessed cannibal to be a good friend—at least, in her humble opinion.