Tomas Edel's Arc

Chapter 8 of 17

The six villagers backed away from the pit. They believed now. But belief did not tell them where to go. A woman clutched her shawl and stared at Tomas. "It's coming for us," she said. "Where do we hide?" Tomas had no answer. His house sat open to the trees. The chapel was breached. Every place he knew, the wendigo knew too. Then a dog barked in the dark. Faint. Far off. Tomas went still. He knew that bark. It was his bloodhound, the one he had sent to lead the creature away. The dog was circling back. The trail had gone stale. The wendigo had traded it and turned toward town. He had run out of borrowed time. Regan heard it too. She looked at Tomas. "It's done chasing the dog," she said. "It'll follow your scent straight here." She gripped her stake, though the stake could not kill it. Old habit. Her hand did not shake. Tomas thought fast. He could not gather the villagers in the open. He needed walls, one door, one way in. His mind fixed on the cave. He had passed its mouth once, jagged stone teeth ringing black dark. The wendigo's own den, deep in the forest. Empty now. The creature was out hunting. A den had one entrance. One entrance could be held. He pointed into the trees, toward the cave. The farmer shook his head. "You want us to go deeper? Into that?" Tomas nodded hard. He mimed a wall at his back, a narrow gap, torches. Safe walls. The villagers did not understand. Regan did. "He means the cavern," she said. "The thing's own cave. It hunts by scent. Inside, one door. We block it. We burn it down to the coals so the smoke drowns his scent. It can't smell us through fire." She said it flat, like reading a list. The farmer swallowed. "And if it comes home?" "Then it meets us in a hole with one way in," Regan said. "Better than open ground." Tomas led them. He moved fast through the trees, one arm in its splint. The dog's bark grew closer behind. So did something heavier, snapping brush. The villagers ran now, no more doubt. The cave mouth rose ahead, gray stone spikes around a black throat. Tomas waved them inside. They piled dry wood and dead leaves at the entrance. A man struck a flint. Flame caught and roared up the stone teeth. Smoke poured into the cave and out into the night, thick and choking, swallowing every human scent. Tomas stood at the fire and watched the trees. Somewhere out there, the wendigo stopped. It had lost them. For one night, the town was hidden inside the monster's own den. But he had brought the villagers to the creature's home. And when it came back, it would find its door on fire.