They were in the woods for the entire day without appreciable luck; they uncovered almost no tracks or spoor, and two of the three bedding areas turned out to be turkey nests. (The third was the remnant of a dry creekbed.) Nothing jumped out at them, literally or figuratively.
Though, it was odd that about halfway through the hunt, Adam vanished.
By the time night had fallen, Sam and Dean were tired and cranky enough to split up themselves, Dean resorting to shooting a hare and cutting it in half just to see if whatever-it-was would be attracted to fresh blood.
Sam was circling around one of the larger trees, shining his flashlight along the ground, when the branches above him groaned. He froze.
"Give me back my tail," said a voice like woven fans.
Sam spun. A lump of darkness detached from the night around it, landing on his chest with a thump that drove him to the ground, knocking his gun away. Long claws spidered across his shoulders.
"Dean," he called, and two yellow eyes opened above him. The creature repositioned itself, shifting from hindfoot to hindfoot on Sam's hips, and its claws glinted in no light at all.
"Give me back," it whispered, voice the same breathy murmur, "my taily-po."
Were it not for the six claws suddenly and violently introduced to his stomach, Sam would have started laughing. He screamed instead.
He could hear Dean crashing through the underbrush, see his flashlight before he got his arms up to protect his face and felt the thing rip at him again. It tore open his arms and moved to his sides, hindclaws tearing at his shins and feet. He got one hand against its face and it whined, batting him away.
A creature, then, not a demon or a spirit--he pushed it up, earning a few split seconds to reach for his gun.
"Sam?"
He didn't get a shot off. The thing dug its feet into his ribs, pushing into a leap that took it careening into Dean and sent them both careening into a tree. Sam grabbed his fallen flashlight, sweeping it across their assailant.
Long limbs, coarse black fur, yellowed eyes. Bloody stump where a tail should have been. It was tearing at Dean with curved claws, moving too fast for him to shoot it off. A fine mist of blood was catching the light. "Dean!"
"Shoot it!" Dean's yell was punctuated by cloth ripping, skin tearing, and the beast whispering my tail my tail my tailypo give me back my tail my tail now.
"Get it off you!"
"Does it look like I'm not trying?" Dean writhed under it, catching its strikes on his arms. "Dammit, Sam!"
Sam aimed.
A second later it gave him all the clean shot he needed as it leapt at him, and took one bullet to the chest just as it landed with its teeth around his neck.
"Sam!"
Sam felt his head go back, felt its teeth break the skin, felt warm blood roll across the skin. He hissed air out, trying to get the pistol back up when the creature jerked back and howled, cutting across the sound of a gunshot. Two more cut across the sound of its scream.
It rolled off, dragging itself toward the trees, only to be stopped by a barrage of weaponsfire from both pistols. Sam rolled to his hands and knees as Dean approached it, turning it over with one foot and checking that it was dead.
Corpse ascertained, he holstered the gun and hopped to Sam. "You all right?"
"Scratched up a bit," Sam said, checking the cuts on his neck against the back of his hand. "You?"
A second later a flashlight was shining in his face, and Dean was turning his chin from side to side. "We should get cleaned up," he said.
Re: This may be the roughest thing I've written in three months. ...actually, it felt good.
They were in the woods for the entire day without appreciable luck; they uncovered almost no tracks or spoor, and two of the three bedding areas turned out to be turkey nests. (The third was the remnant of a dry creekbed.) Nothing jumped out at them, literally or figuratively.
Though, it was odd that about halfway through the hunt, Adam vanished.
By the time night had fallen, Sam and Dean were tired and cranky enough to split up themselves, Dean resorting to shooting a hare and cutting it in half just to see if whatever-it-was would be attracted to fresh blood.
Sam was circling around one of the larger trees, shining his flashlight along the ground, when the branches above him groaned. He froze.
"Give me back my tail," said a voice like woven fans.
Sam spun. A lump of darkness detached from the night around it, landing on his chest with a thump that drove him to the ground, knocking his gun away. Long claws spidered across his shoulders.
"Dean," he called, and two yellow eyes opened above him. The creature repositioned itself, shifting from hindfoot to hindfoot on Sam's hips, and its claws glinted in no light at all.
"Give me back," it whispered, voice the same breathy murmur, "my taily-po."
Were it not for the six claws suddenly and violently introduced to his stomach, Sam would have started laughing. He screamed instead.
He could hear Dean crashing through the underbrush, see his flashlight before he got his arms up to protect his face and felt the thing rip at him again. It tore open his arms and moved to his sides, hindclaws tearing at his shins and feet. He got one hand against its face and it whined, batting him away.
A creature, then, not a demon or a spirit--he pushed it up, earning a few split seconds to reach for his gun.
"Sam?"
He didn't get a shot off. The thing dug its feet into his ribs, pushing into a leap that took it careening into Dean and sent them both careening into a tree. Sam grabbed his fallen flashlight, sweeping it across their assailant.
Long limbs, coarse black fur, yellowed eyes. Bloody stump where a tail should have been. It was tearing at Dean with curved claws, moving too fast for him to shoot it off. A fine mist of blood was catching the light. "Dean!"
"Shoot it!" Dean's yell was punctuated by cloth ripping, skin tearing, and the beast whispering my tail my tail my tailypo give me back my tail my tail now.
"Get it off you!"
"Does it look like I'm not trying?" Dean writhed under it, catching its strikes on his arms. "Dammit, Sam!"
Sam aimed.
A second later it gave him all the clean shot he needed as it leapt at him, and took one bullet to the chest just as it landed with its teeth around his neck.
"Sam!"
Sam felt his head go back, felt its teeth break the skin, felt warm blood roll across the skin. He hissed air out, trying to get the pistol back up when the creature jerked back and howled, cutting across the sound of a gunshot. Two more cut across the sound of its scream.
It rolled off, dragging itself toward the trees, only to be stopped by a barrage of weaponsfire from both pistols. Sam rolled to his hands and knees as Dean approached it, turning it over with one foot and checking that it was dead.
Corpse ascertained, he holstered the gun and hopped to Sam. "You all right?"
"Scratched up a bit," Sam said, checking the cuts on his neck against the back of his hand. "You?"
A second later a flashlight was shining in his face, and Dean was turning his chin from side to side. "We should get cleaned up," he said.