#Lore24 – Entry #189 – Supers Month II #8 – Hunting What Hunts You

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

I ‘spose it were sometime in mid-spring, somewhere in the Nebraska or Dakota Territories when we had some trouble that weren’t of the normal variety.  We’d managed well enough to avoid trouble with the Indians, well, ‘ceptin’ that one incident, but that ain’t nothin’ to get into here.  My travelin’ companions were bickerin’ back and forth as they usually were when we was on long stretches between civilization, ‘bout something that happened back in the Dark Ages, I reckon, how it was Assane’s fault Richard got drawn and quartered for somethin’ she’d started, or somethin’ or other like that.  I was ridin’ on a little ways ahead just so me and Asher could have a little peace and quiet for a time when everythin’ went all deadly quiet. 

We was on alert, stopped cold in the middle of some old Indian trail in the middle of the woods when this feelin’ of dread just came rushin’ into me like nothin’ I’d ever felt before.  I had my pistol in one hand and a protection spell in the other before I knew what was goin’ on.  I scanned around the area with my mystic sight but didn’t see no signs that we’d come into one of them ‘bad places’ where things was known by the Indians to be unnatural.  Didn’t see no Indian signs aside from the trail in fact.  Asher couldn’t get a bearin’ on anythin’ either, and he was downright spooked like I ain’t never seen him before. 

As the two genies came back into earshot, they realized, for a wonder, that somethin’ was wrong, cause they were suddenly very alert when they saw me standin’ stock still on the trail, and had their own protections up.  They took to the air and split up to scout from above, but by then that dreadful feelin’ had started to fade, and a few minutes later, the sounds of nature started comin’ back.  When the two came back, they played it off as them spookin’ away whatever it was, but I could tell they was a little rattled by whatever had been there.

We’d get our first clue a bit further on down the trail that we was bein’ hunted by somethin’, and that it wanted us to know we was getting’ hunted.  We came up to a clearin’ in the hills, real idyllic little scene with a pond and a freshwater spring.  Well, it woulda been were it not for the pile of rottin’ meat we found on the shore and the smaller chunks floatin’ around the water.  I figure it must’ve been a whole herd of deer what were massacred there, and though they was rottin’ off the bone, it couldn’t have been done too long ago.  We set to cleanin’ up the mess, Richard burnin’ the corpses while Assane worked on purifyin’ the water.  Whatever had just come through ate a little of each one, the organs like the heart and liver and even the brains, but left most everything else.  Weren’t no messages left behind other than the bloody mess, but it wouldn’t be the last one of those we came upon.

Was maybe three or four days later when we ran up on that feelin’ again, drawin’ us to the north, only this time when we came up on the massacre, it were a bunch of Indians, maybe two dozen of them, all warriors.  They was missin’ the same parts as the deer were, but this time, instead of bein’ thrown all around, they was laid out deliberate-like, in some kind of dark ritual, their innards splayed out in specific ways, devilish signs made in their blood.  Worst part was they was all still alive somehow, cryin’ out in agony, even without their brains, it was like their spirits were still trapped in the bodies.

I hadn’t never seen nothin’ like that before, and couldn’t evern start to imagine what could’ve done it.  My companions had some thoughts about it, though, cause it was their job to know this kind of stuff, so they had told me many times, and for once they agreed it were some kind of demon runnin’ around, and likely sent after us by someone or somethin’ that we’d pissed off.  Most likely it was their fault, cause I didn’t reckon I’d done nothin’ to deserve that kinda attention just yet.  They was pretty sure it was leavin’ a trail for us to follow, just waitin’ for the right time to strike, when it was good and ready, meanin’ we had to somehow find it first.

It weren’t no happy trail we’d found ourselves on, that was for damn sure.