Stumbling across a set of tangled roots, I pressed my palm against the closest tree trunk to steady myself. The scream had sounded once more after the first peal, only to be silenced halfway through, as if a hand had clapped over the woman’s mouth.

The moon rose high and bright, shining its crescent light down through the trees and glinting off the small creeks and streams I crossed. Each step took me closer to the house and the screams that had chilled my blood. I reached into my pocket, my knife comforting against my palm.

I kept walking, determined to rescue whomever needed saving. Jumping a small stream, I heard a huff, like a hard exhale, ahead of me. The hackles on the back of my neck rose as my heart kicked into high gear. I froze and searched the darkness.

Far in the distance, a light burned through the trees. The house. It had to be. Salvation or damnation. Either way, I was focused on getting there.

I took another step, and the sharp exhale sounded again. I pulled my knife from my pocket and held it out in front of me. Dead leaves crunched ahead and to the right. The noise grew closer as I held my ground. My knife hand started to shake as twigs snapped.

A shadow darted through the trees, small and scampering. Then another headed right for me. I crouched, bending my knees and getting ready to spring forward with my blade. The shadow moved quickly, and I held my breath as it approached.

A tiny boar dashed past me and bent its head at the small stream at my back. Another one barreled out of the night and joined its sibling for a drink. Their coarse black hair, striped with a lighter brown, shone in the moonlight and their stubby tails flicked and wagged. I sighed with relief.

Dropping my arm to my side, I stood up straight. “You two scared the shit out of me.” My breath puffed in front of my face.

They happily ignored me and kept slurping at the stream, one of them squealing lightly. They seemed cute in a creepy, middle-of-the-night sort of way. Or maybe they weren’t cute at all, and I was just relieved to find harmless piglets instead of a bear or the rumored panthers. I was too tired to give it much thought, and I kept trudging forward, still seeking the sounds of the screams.

Throwing them one last glance, I continued toward the beckoning light through the trees. Garrett Blackwood had left a light on, or maybe he was sitting in a room along this side of the house. Or maybe he’s in the woods dismembering the screamer’s body. I shivered and kept my knife in my free hand.

I made it a dozen steps before the huff sounded again, louder this time, and followed by a low grunt. Leaves crunched as the animal approached. The noises alone told me I was dealing with a much larger boar than the two piglets. I edged to the closest tree and leaned into it, seeking some form of cover. It was barely wider than I was, but I would have to cross into open moonlight to make it to a bigger tree about twenty feet away.

Peeking around the pine, I saw the boar emerge from a nearby thicket. Though I didn’t see any tusks, it had to weigh at least two-hundred pounds, maybe more. It lumbered through the undergrowth with heavy grunts.

The boar snorted along the roots of a tree, then raised its head and began to move toward the piglets. I edged around the tree, trying to keep my steps quiet as I hugged the bark and circled. The boar kept coming and passed in front of me, its steps steady as it approached the stream.

My lungs burned and I took a calming breath. Another dense thicket rose to my left. If I could get closer to it, it would serve as something of a hedge and hide me from the boar.

I eased out from behind the tree and chose careful steps as the massive beast drank along with the piglets. The tangled brambles ahead promised safety, and there were only a few more feet left to go before I’d be out of sight.

That’s when I heard another boar snort close behind me. Whirling, I found a dark blur charging me through the moonlight, a ghostly shine on its upturned tusks.

I darted to the left as the animal careened past and into the thicket behind me. Breaking into a run, I tore down the slight slope toward the light in the woods. Hooves pounded the ground behind me, at least two of the monsters giving chase as I tried to manage the dark forest. I didn’t dare glance around, just kept my hellish pace and tried to avoid roots and branches.

The cold air burned my lungs, and sapling limbs slapped against my body and face as I crashed through the woods. I kept hoping the boars would lose interest, maybe turn back to take care of the smaller pigs. Instead, the snorts and grunts behind me kept up even as my strength waned, the long day and the cold air weighing me down and slowing my pace.

I slid the straps of my pack off my shoulders and let it fall. The lighter load urged me faster, and I chanced a glance behind me. Only one animal remained, the other sniffing the pack I left behind. Jumping a small stream, I hit the ground and veered to the right around another bramble thicket. I couldn’t see the light any longer, but I knew I was still headed toward it and the mirage of salvation.

I’d almost cleared the tangle of vines when a burning pain ripped across my calf, the boar’s teeth sinking into me. I stumbled and fell, stings and pain erupting along my face and hands as the thicket’s thorns drew blood. I screamed and turned. My knife dropped away, lost in the dark maze of criss-crossing agony. The boar’s breath formed a puff of steam as it advanced, no longer in a hurry. It was as if it knew I was snared, and all it had to do was wait. The thorns snagged all along my coat and in my hair. It would take time to rip myself free, but I had none.

I kicked out with my good leg, but missed its wide snout. It surveyed me with black eyes, then lunged forward, spearing my bloodied calf with its tusk again. Another scream ripped from my lungs as I brought my heel down on the side of its head. It squealed and backed away, but quickly came again. The blood must have drawn it to my injured leg, because it went for it and latched on with a strong bite.

Screaming and kicking, I fought as pain overwhelmed my senses and mixed with terror. It yanked, dragging me from the thicket. Being out in the open was somehow worse than being trapped in a wall of thorns.

I landed another kick right on its eye, and it let go with a snort. Caught between the thicket and the boar, I had nowhere to go. Not that I could walk. My leg wound was too extensive. Tears threatened as the second boar approached, its nose in the air as it scented my blood. I felt around behind me, trying to find my knife and ignoring the thorns that ripped my already injured palms. It was my only chance.

The boar with the tusks regrouped and lunged forward again, seeking my injured leg. I kicked, but it grabbed my right foot in its mouth and clamped down around my boot. The second boar, emboldened, ran up behind its mate, grunting and snorting its interest.

I balled my hands into fists, leaned forward, and swung at the monstrous black snout. I connected, but the beast didn’t let go. Instead, it shook me so hard I thought it might pull my leg from its socket.

A scream bubbled from my throat as its teeth punctured my boot and dug into my heel. The other boar circled around toward my left.

I would die out here.

The realization of death didn’t come like a sucker punch; it came as a cold finality. It was almost calming to know with certainty that the end is imminent and utterly unavoidable. I felt the cold air in my lungs, the roaring pain radiating from my leg, the tickle of hoarseness in my throat—everything all at once, my last bits of life. Was my father’s ghost here, watching me die in the same woods where he perished?

The second boar snorted with agitation as it advanced, skirting the thicket and hemming me in. It surveyed me with black, shiny eyes. This was it. I readied my fists for the final assault.

The boar at my foot yanked viciously as the one to my left charged.

A shot cracked through the frozen air. The boar to my left stumbled and dropped, its forward momentum from the charge sending it skidding into my side. It shuddered and stared up at me with one black eye.

Another shot echoed through the trees and the boar at my feet released its hold and backed up a few steps. It turned and started to run, moving like a drunk through the trees. Another shot, and it dropped to the ground with a thud and didn’t move.

I scooted away from the dying boar and cried out from the searing pain in my leg. The woods swam, the trees no longer straight but becoming wavelengths transmitting my horror. Leaves crunched nearby, and a dark shape approached as I struggled to breathe and keep my eyes open.

He knelt down and peered at me as words came out of his mouth. I didn’t understand him, though I caught a “fuck” here and there. I couldn’t concentrate, so I stared into his eyes. They were familiar, even in the dark. A steely blue. Like water beneath a stormy sky. My vision fuzzed black at the corners, and then I fell deep into that churning water, a storm raging above me.