Tomas Edel's Arc

Chapter 6 of 17

Inside the chapel, Tomas sank against the cold wall. His broken arm had swollen tight against the strap. The skin stretched shiny and hot. He could not bend the fingers. He needed it set and splinted now, or he would not run again, and he could not guard anyone with one dead arm. Regan knelt beside him. Tally marks scarred the stone behind her, one for each thing she had killed. She looked at his arm without flinching. "It has to be pulled straight," she said. "Then bound. It will hurt." Tomas nodded. Hunter hovered near the door, watching the mist through the narrow window. "Do it fast," Hunter said. "We can't sit here." Regan cut two straight slats from a broken pew. She tore strips from her sleeve. "Bite down," she told Tomas. He set his jaw. She gripped his wrist and pulled. Bone ground back into line. Tomas's breath hissed through his teeth, but he held still. She laid the slats along his arm and bound them tight. The pain dropped from a scream to a dull throb. He flexed his fingers. They moved. He had his arm back. He could travel. He could fight. Then the window went dark. The wall punched inward. Stone burst across the floor. The wendigo forced its long head through the gap, antlers scraping, jaws already wide. Its scent-tracking had won. It had followed Tomas straight to the door. "Run!" Regan shouted. "Split up! It can't chase all three!" They scattered. Tomas dove through the broken wall into the mist. Regan bolted out the door. Hunter shoved through the far window into the trees. The wendigo swung its head between them, confused for a breath, then chose. Tomas ran and looked back. The creature had gone after Hunter. He saw the boy crash through the brush. He saw the black leather jacket flash between trunks. Then the wendigo closed the gap. One clawed arm swept down. Hunter dropped. The jacket tumbled loose across the wet ground. The wendigo lowered its head over the still shape and dragged it into the dark. Tomas froze in the mist. The boy who had given him the trail. The boy who wanted the same answer he could not speak. Gone in three seconds. Regan reached his side, breath ragged. She had seen it too. "He's dead," she said. Flat. No softening. "It took him." Tomas's throat worked. The word he had carried for chapters rose again. Wendigo. It would not come. But his arm held straight and strong under the splint. He could run. He could fight. And now he knew the beast would trade a fresh kill for a stale trail. That was how it hunted. That was the warning he had to carry back before it emptied the whole village the same way. He pulled Regan by the sleeve. They ran.