A/N: This story is still in the works, but my opening scene takes place in the woods so I figured why not use it as an entry for this? Hope you enjoy! It's a rough draft so it might be a little choppy because I haven't really edited and refined the piece yet.549Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0yoR1DCpcU
Lydia sighed, leaning against a large oak tree and adjusting the hood of her black jacket. “Why do wendigos have to hang out around these places? I mean, secluded woods covered in fog are just… so cliche,” she muttered into the emptiness of the night. She stifled a shiver and drew her jacket closer to her, glancing around cautiously. A low chuckle caught her attention.
Spinning on her heel, Lydia stared at the gaunt, thin man she’d been looking for. He seemed almost human, except for two things. His eyes were sunken; they stood out in the night with their glowing golden color.The second indication of him being something other than human was that his smiling mouth was full of long, needle-like teeth.
“You look like a tasty morsel, sweetheart,” he growled at her. Lydia kept herself from gagging. His breath smelled of rotting flesh and death.
“Please, I’m all muscle. I’d be pretty tough to bite into,” she replied with a smirk. She let an atheme slide into her hand from its holster strapped to her arm. She gripped it and took two steps back from the wendigo. Its eyes flicked down to her hand where she held the knife and it growled in warning.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose as the facade of a man melted away, replaced by that of a corpse-like monster. The wendigo lunged at her and she reeled back on her heels, her arm coming up in a wide arc, slashing one of its arms. Her sleeve snagged a nearby branch and it snapped off with a cracking noise that filled the chilled air. She was slightly off balance from spinning back so quickly, so she let herself fall back onto the dirt and leaves covering the ground, rolling on her shoulder, then popped up to her feet. She straightened, still gripping the knife in her hand. She heard footsteps behind her and spun around, knife prepared to slam into whatever backup the wendigo had. Most wendigos hunted alone, but the occasional lone wendigo would find another one to watch their back. Lydia had found that out the hard way earlier that year in Italy when she’d dealt with three of them in Rome. She swiped and a man, with fully human features, leaned easily away from the blade.
“Hello there, little miss. May I ask what you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. She glared at him and his eyes danced with a smile. She spun back around without replying and focused her attention back on the wendigo.
“Ah, two snacks tonight. It looks like I’ve gotten lucky,” the monster growled, clicking its teeth together and baring them at them. The man that had joined her let out a small laugh and she sensed him moving behind her. She glanced over, unable to stifle her curiosity and suspicion. He’d pulled out a sleek gun. It looked like a Glock to her, but had been enhanced with a muffler and a custom grip. He aimed at the wendigo and fired twice, straight into the thing’s skull.
“I really don’t think you did get lucky tonight,” he replied as the body slumped to the grass and slowly crumbled to ash.
“Were those steel bullets?” Lydia asked before she could stop herself. She silently cursed her curiosity, but waited for an answer. “Where did you get something like those?”
“You know quite a bit about these kinds of situations don’t you, little miss,” the man responded. Annoyed by his condescending tone, she drew herself up and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m not a little miss. I’m 19, thank you very much. And yes, I do know about this kind of thing. I’m a Hunter. And who are you?” she snapped.
“You’re a Hunter? What division?” he asked, surprised. Too late, she realized her slip of the tongue. He was probably with the International Hunters Society. Lydia had avoided their calls and attempts to recruit her. Her dad always told her to be cautious about trusting the IHS, and she listened well to his advice. Of course, Lydia didn’t easily trust anyone, but she eyed members of the IHS with an even higher suspicion. The man stood there, still waiting for an answer.
“I don’t work for the Society,” she said, and held up a hand before he could interrupt, “and I don’t want to either. I like being freelance. I don’t play well with others.”
“Okay then. Well, what’s your name?” he asked. “I won’t pry much, but I at least deserve to know the name of the pretty girl I just helped out, right?”
“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours,” Lydia replied.
“Fine, fine. As you wish. I’m Carson Locke, originally in the New York division of the IHS. I moved here because I wrecked a bar trying to get a Dullahan.”
“I’m Lydia Grimbald. Nice to meet you, but I hope we don’t run into each other again,” she said.
“Wait. How old are you? You seem pretty young to be a lone freelancer,” he blurted. Lydia hesitated and turned back to Carson.
“I’m 17. And I’ll have you know that I have no one to watch my back when I hunt. My parents were both murdered by a djinn. They worked together as freelance Hunters. Of course, I’m perfectly fine hunting alone,” Lydia said.
“So you’re two years younger than me. And hunting freelance jobs. Alone,” he said slowly. She nodded, annoyed at his reaction.
“And I’m a girl. Yes, I know. Lots of people are shocked. I honestly couldn’t care less,” she snapped. “Now excuse me, I have to get home.” Lydia spun on her heel and stalked away, Carson staring after her. As soon as he saw her pull away from the cemetery in a small white car, he whipped out a phone and dialled a number.
“Guess who I just ran into? A freelance. Her name’s Lydia. Have you heard of her?” he said into the phone. After a pause he nodded. “She’s got talent. But I think she’s happy with being a freelance Hunter. I don’t think she likes me much. I probably shouldn’t be the one to talk to her. If you insist I will, but I’m pretty sure she’ll shoot me down right away. I can go over tomorrow. I’ve already got an excuse made up. Just give me the address and I’ll be right there.” He slid the phone back into his pocket and turned and walked away from the last crumbling bits of ash that the wendigo had left behind.
A/N: Not the most well written piece, but since it's a draft it'll be better as it's revised. Thanks for reading y'all! As always, feel free to leave me advice or a review! I've been a bit busy lately, but I'm back now! I have break coming up and I'll be travelling then, so I might not be on much. Anyway, enjoy your holidays everyone! Toodles for now!549Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Ee5UjbsZh
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