time isn’t real anymore. not sure if he’d been down there for days, weeks, years. doesn’t matter. he hasn’t been in the sun in god knows how long-- doesn’t want to. the little bit of sunlight that trickles down into his part of the mine hurts so fucking bad. but he doesn’t need to-- he’s got food. maybe not... a lot. but plenty enough. there had been a few bodies strung up-- and he was currently chewing away at fiddler’s head. not that you would recognize him anymore. but, god, he’s starving. he’s so hungry. is this what hannah felt? still felt? he hadn’t seen her since she left him down here-- maybe she was finding more food for them. yeah. yeah, yeah. she’d been here for awhile, she can get the good stuff. big deer. rabbits for snacks. mmm.
he freezes when he hears what sounds like foot steps.
he knows in his heart (what’s left of it, anyways), that it’s someone. someone’s in the mines. who the fuck would be down in the mines? why the fuck would anyone think that that’s a good idea. if it’s chris, he’s going to kill him. well-- okay, if it’s anyone, he thinks he’ll kill them. but not in a ‘haha friendly getouttahere’ kind of way. but... but he’d try. dead bodies are enough. for now. maybe he’ll find a rat later.
he drops the head without another thought, and stalks his way through the mines, looking for any sign of movement. he can see a little in the dark if he really lets instinct take over, but otherwise it’s just dark as shit. and he can’t tell if that’s just from... changing, or if it’s just because it’s dark as shit. but what he does end up seeing is another wendigo-- and it looks like it’s stalking something. something human-- something human he can’t quite see, but he can definitely smell. who the FUCK.
he doesn’t know who they are. can’t tell-- doesn’t care. but he does launch himself at the wendigo, letting out a very non-human screech as he does so. it’s hard-- because the still-human half of him wants to warn them, wants to keep whoever it is safe. this is no life to live-- dying this way is no way to die. but on the other less-human half, the only thing he’s thinking is mine mine mine mine mine-- because shit, man. these guys had their chance for fresh meat. it’s his turn! damn. get your own space, stupid ass. so he’s just... tearing at this thing. he may not be as tall, but he’s also not as spindly. he’s strong, and he’s pushing up at the things head, as if he’s trying to pop it off. fuck this whole dude.
@kittpaddon // plotted !