Not the Wind

She stuffed the old, moldy diary into her jacket pocket as she walked out of the decaying cottage. Dust clung to her like it had been waiting there all this time just for her, and the smell—well, she didn't want to think too hard about what that smell was. Rot, mildew, and maybe a bit of regret from whoever had lived there last. As she stepped outside into the relative fresh air, Byte's voice crackled to life in her ear.

"What's taking so long? You find anything useful or just rummaging around in a glorified haunted house?"

She rolled her eyes. "Found a diary. Family. Twins. Super cute. Oh, and one of them was probably cursed. You know, casual stuff."

"Cursed?" Byte snorted, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Really? You're still buying into that mythical crap? Let me guess, next you're gonna tell me there's a werewolf lurking around or a dragon hiding in the basement, right?"

She could practically hear his eyes rolling through the comms. 

"These things aren't vampires or demons," he continued, warming up for one of his science rants. "They're scientifically modified genetic freaks. Spliced DNA, messed-up proteins, maybe some heavy radiation thrown in for fun. But they're not 'cursed' or some nonsense like that. Sure, they rip people apart, but it's not because they're from some old legend, okay? It's because someone, somewhere, decided to play Frankenstein and see what happens when you mix human DNA with, I don't know, an angry grizzly bear. Science, not storybooks."

She stifled a sigh. "Yeah, well, explain the whole vanishing basement thing then. Does that come with your 'scientifically modified freaks' package?"

There was a pause, and then Byte muttered, "Probably a tech glitch."

"Right, a tech glitch," she shot back. "Because tech glitches always explain invisible basements and monsters that howl like they're auditioning for a horror movie."

"Look," Byte said, clearly exasperated now. "If it can bleed, it can be explained. The rest is just... window dressing. Let's stick to the facts, alright?"

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll leave the fairy tales to someone else. But for the record? It feels like we're living in one. Not everything's about science, Byte. Some things are just... I don't know, weird."

"Yeah, well, I prefer my weird with a side of evidence."

She shook her head, trudging back toward the castle grounds. The place was dead quiet. No signs of life, not even the weird kind. It was starting to look like this trip was a bust. No monstrous revelations, no signs of anyone—just a diary, some dust, and a really questionable interior decorator from the 1800s. As she wandered around, her mind already halfway back to the island, she heard it—a long, low howl.

Definitely not the wind.

Her heart skipped a beat. And then, as if the universe had heard her, something shot out of the forest, moving fast. Really fast. A beast—smaller than the others she'd faced, but somehow even uglier—launched itself at her with a growl that sounded more like a malfunctioning blender.

"Ah, crap!" she yelped, diving out of the way.

She scrambled, hand on her gun, and fired off a shot. It missed. Of course it did. Because why would anything go smoothly? The creature lunged again, and she barely managed to roll out of the way, snapping off another shot. This one grazed its leg, but instead of slowing down, it seemed to just get more pissed off.

She reloaded. Fired. Reloaded again. She was fast, but there was no ignoring the sinking realization that maybe guns weren't exactly the best option here. Sure, bullets could hit things, but there were only so many of them, and this thing? This thing was like a nightmare with legs.

The beast came at her again, claws outstretched, and she leaped back. Her heart was pounding now, her mind racing for a solution. And then, out of nowhere, she remembered the diary. The name. Marek. Was that you, buddy?

"Marek!" she shouted, not sure what else to try.

The creature stopped mid-lunge, freezing like she'd hit pause on some freaky horror movie. It stood there, snarling, blood dripping from the wound on its leg, but it didn't move. It just stared at her, its beady eyes wide with something close to... recognition?

She took a breath, her hand still on the trigger, but she didn't fire. "Marek?"

The beast let out a low growl but didn't charge again. Instead, it turned and limped away, disappearing into the trees. She stood there, blinking in disbelief. That actually worked? She didn't know whether to feel proud or like an idiot.

Byte's voice buzzed in her ear again. "I'm tracking it. You're gonna want to follow that thing."

"Yeah, no kidding," she muttered, already sprinting after it. Marek—or whatever the hell it was—was still fast, even wounded, but she kept up. Just barely. Byte was rattling off directions in her ear, but all she could focus on was the dark blur of the creature ahead of her, darting through the trees like it was trying to win a race against death.

They ran for what felt like forever, the forest blurring by in streaks of green and brown. Just as she thought she was gaining ground, Byte's voice cut through again. "Lost him near a cave. I'm sending drones, but don't be stupid. Fall back."

She slowed down, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Sure enough, the trail led to a cave—a dark, gaping mouth in the earth. She could almost feel Marek hiding in there, licking his wounds, but going in alone wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

"Yeah, yeah. Falling back," she muttered, though the idea of turning her back on that cave made her stomach turn. Still, Byte was right (ugh, she hated when Byte was right). She backed off, glancing warily at the cave entrance as she made her way to the clearing where her transport was waiting.

Back at the aircraft, she collapsed into her seat, exhaustion setting in. Byte's voice chirped up again, annoyingly chipper. "Drones are on it. We'll track it from here. Good job, by the way. You didn't get yourself killed."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she grumbled, still catching her breath.

Byte chuckled. "Hey, just calling it like I see it."

As the aircraft lifted off, she stared out the window at the shrinking forest below. Marek—or whatever he was—was still out there. Wounded, but alive. And she had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time she'd be hearing that howl in the night. 

This is definitely coming in my nightmares tonight.