Whiteclay IV

With Tania's treatment done, it was now time to interrogate the inhabitants of Whiteclay. Irwin was damn sure that Jerry had something to hide, and that was why he shushed the other lady who recognized Tania.

The Angel Sword appeared in his right hand, startling those who saw it appear magically. Their surprised faces morphed into fear when Irwin stabbed the sword into the floor, cracking the floorboard in half.

"Listen up, folks." He flashed his fake FBI badge. "I'm special agent Steel of the FBI's Protectorate Division. You may not know what that is because we hide behind the organization's bowels and internal organs, lending a hand when no one can. You may ask yourself… why? What is our purpose? Well, to cut a long story very short: We're designed and trained to kill monsters."

"M-monsters?"

Murmurs ran bound the moment he finished his spiel and, frankly, they could not get or act any guiltier in Irwin's eyes. Sure enough, when he didn't say anything else for a minute, most of them shared a few worried looks.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jerry spoke up before standing up in a huff.

He held down a smirk as he took a seat and faced them. "Faking being angry at me will not save you from the terrible thing hunting people outside of this restaurant. From what I've heard on the Weather channel, this blizzard will last for two more days."

"Listen, son–"

"Don't call me son," Irwin growled playfully. "Tania is down for the count, so I need info on where I should hunt the Wendigo first. Who's gonna tell me?"

"His hunger will never cease!" The woman from earlier yelled after Irwin asked his question. When Jerry was about to shush her again, the woman smashed her fist against the table. "You, shut up! The devourer will come once a while and often feed him with little critters. Chipmunks, chicken, or leftover deer. But…"

"It's been getting hungrier, hasn't it? No longer being satisfied by the critters?" Irwin grunted when the woman voiced her assent to his question. "And the hikers? Tania's people?"

"Elder Hawkins was the one who… sent them." The disheveled man with an apron answered.

"And you are?"

"I'm Savoy. I own the restaurant." Savoy nodded bashfully, although Irwin could see hints of guilt within. "And, yes, they fed through here before the blizzard a few days ago."

Irwin checked his watch before continuing. "It's been an hour and thirty since we saved Tania, which means the Wendigo knows that its prey is out."

"Does that mean that he's hunting again?" Asked the woman hurriedly.

"What do you mean 'He'–"

A soul-sickening scream swindled Irwin out of his abrupt question, startling all those who resided within the establishment. Irwin stayed rooted in place, taking out his M1911 and fixing a silver-bullet clip on its magazine catch before palming his Indestructible Hex Bag.

While he was arming himself, Savoy and one other guy hurried to the entrance. Before they could open the door and expose themselves to the biting cold and biting monster, Irwin called out to them.

"Hey! Nobody leaves the building." He ordered, aiming the gun at them. "I want you to cover every exit, every window, and trapdoors. Open the suitcase and arm yourselves."

He walked forward, trudging past both men, and kicked open the door. A blast of icy wind pelted the entire building, exposing them to the extreme temperature.

"W-where are you going? It's dangerous!" Shouted the woman.

Irwin turned around and yelled, "Do what I say! Keep this door closed until I get back."

"And what if you don't get back?" Savoy asked.

He sneered and turned towards the source of the voice. As he stepped onto an inch of snow, he could not help but mutter, "...Then may god have mercy on your soul."

●●●●●

He knew many words, some of which were even considered pretentious by those who spoke them. But there was a word that kept running away from his brain, one that he knew all too well in his previous inferior form.

pretentious 

"Bones…" Was all that was left of his meal. A hunt no less physically satisfying than that of the biting dog, but since his stomach was no longer grumbling, he need not hunt anymore.

The way out differed from the way in. The Sanctuary of the hairy food he had devoured was smaller than his. Not even his limbs, long and luscious, could flex in its entirety.

But unlike his Sanctuary, the hair food's were too soft, akin to white tears–commonly known as snow. Not to mention the paraphernalias scattered around the abode, one wrong move and abundant noise permeated the shelter.

That was how the hairy food had found him out, and why he had to leave now. If another found him in this state, when his stomach was full and his mouth was raw, the Teacher told him that it would lead to his… What was it again?

"...death…"

With a huff, he scrounged past the furniture and tore away the thin walls that partitioned half of the Sanctuary. A window stood in his way which he could easily break with his strength, but it could hurt him and being hurt never felt good.

"HA! MONSTER!"

Dread coursed through the Sanctuary as another food entered the area, her shrieks threatened to blow every sense in his body. As such, he betrayed his feelings for pain and launched himself forward, keeping the teachings of his predecessor in mind as he crashed onto the snowy ground with a dull thud.

Bones inside of his body who were much stronger than his food broke during the fall. The broken bones would heal soon, but the fact was that it would make him hungrier, which was why the Teacher told him not to get hurt.

He could feel the crackling of his bones already underway in its optimum state.

optimum

If not for the cold blitzing its way into his internal stuff, then he would have healed completely the moment he stood up and began running in the opposite direction of the food's Sanctuary. It was why the Teacher was adamant to stock up food for the coming winters, but who would have thought that even the usual two was not enough?

He skidded along the ice that had formed over the patch two perpendicular lines of road that traced over the horizon, nearly falling to his recently healed arm again. Before he could start running once more, a loud gunshot rang in the air and a burning sensation hit his elongated arm.

"RAH!"

His screams caused the nearby windows to shatter into a million pieces, muffled only by the howling winds brought on by the raging blizzard. He doubled over in pain and saw the delicious-looking blood flowing down his glossy arm.

Instinct took over his rationale, something the Teacher didn't want him to do. But the pain that had assaulted him was far more terrifying that he could ever inflict on his food.

Another caustic boom of a gun erupted out of nowhere–No, not nowhere. Somewhere he had yet to see and someone was doing it to him. Swiveling his head around like a half-wit owl–a delicious delicacy, but needed dedication to delicately prepare–he soon found his enemy as the food announced itself.

"I'm here." It said, "Can you understand me? Or are you too hungry to even understand how truly and well fucked you are?"

"RAH!"

The gun in its food's hand, albeit looked delicious and moist, was emitting a sense of danger he had long not heard. This time, instead of reneging on his promise to his Teacher, he burst out of the snow and away from the food.

No matter how superior he was in terms of physical traits compared to what he was before, the food had thousands of years to invent a contraption capable of defending themselves against him. 

Often that made the hunt better and more satiable, but that was only because he was an unseen predator. The most dangerous thing in the hunt, but now he was being hunted and he had better run fast.

"Run, forrest, run!" The food followed after him, hollering and bellowing with mockery and amusement. To his utter surprise, the food was keeping up with him, even when he entered the forest that he had called home.

"Where you going, bitch?"

The words he had forgotten, mostly because it did not matter anymore, suddenly sprang into his mind. Reminding him of what was once a facet of being his former self.

For the first time since his inception into a better form, he had a sense of foreboding calamity.