Pre Dawn
The next three weeks were a blur of work for Elmore. From dawn to dusk, he cleared out the thick brush on his family’s mountainside above his home and across the dirtroad, carving out a significant patch of land for the crops. Bringing down trees, pulling stumps, and tilling the ground. Each swing of the mattock and shovel brought him closer to preparing the earth for what would become their lifeline. And lucky for him that Appalachian mountains have some of the most fertile soft black dirt you'll ever see and with his home being in the fog line because of the New River gorge way down the valley he doesn't really have to worry about watering the ground.
He spent long hours inside too, carefully planting seeds in small pots to get them started. Ash watched with raised eyebrows as he meticulously went through each one, with each little black pot receiving a 1-in hole with his finger before a single seed is dropped in, then a small little splash of water before it's covered up. but they were both surprised when the seeds, which should have taken weeks to germinate, sprouted in just half a day. By the second day, they were already too big for their pots, the stalks stretching toward the ceiling like they had a mind of their own, growing at such an accelerated speed in the fertilized dirt that they were able to watch it happen, as by the time he had planted the last seed the first one he planted was already an inch tall. Elmore couldn’t help but marvel at the accelerated growth. It was like life itself was changing, adapting to whatever new forces were at play. And it struck him that if the plants are growing like this what the heck is happening to the animals. Much less themselves.
With the seedlings growing faster than expected, Elmore planted the field. Even after planting row after row of fruits and vegetables, he realized he had barely touched the stockpile of seeds they had bought. After checking through it he had only used 2% of the seeds they had bought. He could have planted acres more, but for now, this would have to do. In the meantime he stored all of them in vacuum sealed bags labeled and then stored in the dry basement sitting on a shelf next to where they can food in mason jars and on the opposite side of the room of his small moonshine still.
One afternoon when Ash was making dinner and after most of the other chores we're taking care of, Elmore planted the fruit trees in the backyard. He did it quickly and quietly, spreading what remained of the pyre—ashes from the bodies they’d burned weeks earlier—around the base of the trees as fertilizer, leaving what remained of the bones in a neat little pile. It felt morbid, but there was something poetic about returning the dead to the earth, letting them nourish something new. Within days, the trees had shot up, growing taller than he expected, their branches laden with leaves and even the first signs of fruit. He’d already had to trim the tops of the trees just to keep them manageable. Also noticing that the roots creep across the surface and multiple trees twine their Roots around the pile of bones creating a big knot of tree roots and bones at the far end of his backyard the only flat spot before the mountain becomes steep again.
One morning, after snipping the last overgrown branch from the apple tree, he picked a ripe, red apple and handed it to Edward, who gleefully took a bite before trying to toss it smiling big and wide and tearing into it like a ravenous monkey. Laughing, Elmore picked a new Apple of his own, the crisp, tart taste lingering on his tongue.”these are some damn good apples huh buddy” Edward just looks at him with apple in his mouth and cheeses a big smile.
Despite the progress he’d made on the farm, Elmore knew he had been avoiding something—hunting. It wasn’t that he was afraid, not exactly, he would admit that he's anxious though. but there was a deep sense of foreboding about venturing back into the woods. He’d been stalling, focusing on the house and the land, ensuring everything was in order just in case something did happen. But as their food stockpile began to dwindle again, he knew it was time. Even with the accelerated growth of the plants if he didn't do something soon we would probably starve a week before they started being able to supply their own fruits and vegetables foraging was also an option but he wanted to try hunting first. As living off of mushrooms and hard roots and boiled tree bark could get a little rough on his little boy.
The next morning, long before sunrise, Elmore quietly slipped out of bed. He leaned over and kissed Ash softly on the cheek before pulling on his boots, blue jeans, and a simple coat. In the kitchen, he brewed some coffee, using the cheap off-brand instant blend they’d bought at the store. It wasn’t great, but it was something. He poured the coffee into a thermos and drank the rest , wincing at the icy bitterness and feeling awake after shaking off.
He grabbed his gear, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder and strapping his ax to his right hip. A machete hung from his left, and a knife strapped snugly to his chest from under his armpit, the handle almost touching his sternum while the blade ran up his chest. Everything felt heavy, but reassuringly sturdy. He was ready.
Stepping out onto the front porch, Elmore was greeted by the cool embrace of the morning mountain dew. The air was crisp and foggy, smelling faintly of damp earth and pine with hits of grass. He could hear the distant rustling of leaves, the soft chirp of crickets slowly fading as the night gave way to dawn. Above him, the stars were just beginning to dim, and far off in the distance, the first light of the sun hadn't even begun to edge over the mountains, casting a faint pink glow across the horizon.
The world was bathed in that soft, pre-dawn light, the kind that made everything seem a little more magical, a little more ethereal. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their shadows long and stretched across the dew-soaked ground. Elmore took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, and for a moment, everything felt still. Peaceful, even.
The ground was wet beneath his boots as he stepped off the porch, the quiet squelch of the mud beneath his feet the only sound for miles. The world was still asleep, but he knew that wouldn’t last long. Soon enough, the sun would rise, and with it, whatever dangers the day might bring.
As he made his way down the path that led into the woods, shotgun in hand, Elmore felt the weight of the moment settle on him. He was stepping into a world that had changed, a world filled with new threats and strange powers, but he couldn’t avoid it any longer. The sun would rise soon, and with it, a new chapter in their fight to survive.
He wasn’t sure what he’d find in the forest, but he was ready to face it.
The hunt
Elmore moved carefully through the dense underbrush, stepping into what remained of the untouched national park. It had always been a place of restricted access, off-limits to everyone except for the occasional ranger patrol. But that hadn’t stopped his family from slipping in for hunting trips or just exploring, using their knowledge of the land to avoid detection.and being as it begins in Elmore's back yard and almost surrounds his land it's not hard to just use as they see fit. Now, with the world changing, the absence of rangers and authorities meant he was truly alone here, and the way he saw it this land was his now.
The trail he used was one worn by decades of secret use by his family. Surprisingly, it hadn’t overgrown yet, though the forest felt different now—quieter, more watchful. Every step seemed louder than it should have been, whether it was the squelch of his boots in the mud, the crack of a branch beneath his feet, or the rustling of unseen creatures in the brush. The air was thick with humidity, and the smell of wet earth and pine needles filled his lungs.
As he made his way deeper into the park, Elmore saw plenty of animals, but none of the ones he was looking for. Squirrels darted through the trees in flashes of unusual colors—some were an odd shade of blue and supper fast, while others had fur that shimmered with a metallic sheen and left deep scratch marks on the trees. One squirrel, impossibly strong and red, darted past him and sunk its teeth into a thick branch like a beaver, gnawing through it like it was paper. Elmore watched, amazed, as the creature hauled the severed branch up into the tree for some unknown purpose.
But squirrels wouldn’t do him any good. He didn’t have enough ammunition to waste on small game, not with only around 200 shells to his name. Ammo was scarce, with none available in any of the stores he’d visited over the past few weeks. Each shell was precious now, and he had no idea how long he would have to make them last.
He kept moving, cresting a small bluff that overlooked a clearing. A raccoon, larger than normal, sat perched in the fork of a tree. It spotted Elmore and scrambled down the trunk with startling speed, vanishing into the sparse underbrush. Its fur was striped in bold, zebra-like patterns—another sign of how the wildlife had begun to mutate. He wondered just how far these changes went, and what larger animals might look like now.
It wasn’t until he spotted the deer tracks that he felt a surge of hope. Large, deep impressions in the soft earth told him it was a full-grown buck, obviously powerful. But beside the tracks was something else: a dead wolf. The body was far too decayed for him to be willing to eat, but it couldn’t have been more than two days old. The meat that remained on its bones was barely bloated, though its flesh was mostly gone, picked clean by animals most likely.
leaving only the skeleton and tattered fur.
He crouched beside the wolf, inspecting the scene. The carcass was twisted in an unnatural way, the bones cracked and shattered. Then his eyes were drawn to the tree just behind the wolf. It had several large puncture holes running through it, as though something had speared through both the wolf and the tree with incredible force.
As Elmore examined the scene, he felt his skill [Aither Memory] activate, flooding his mind with a rush of information. Images of every hunting documentary, survival guide, and crime scene show he’d ever watched played in his mind, connecting dots, drawing conclusions. He began to piece together the story.
A pack of wolves had hunted the deer, but it had fought back, likely using its antlers as weapons. The holes in the tree were evidence of that. The buck had driven its antlers clear through the wolf and straight into the tree, ripping them out with enough force to leave the beast crumpled on the ground. The hoofprints told another story too: they were deeper than they should have been, and the stone beneath them was shattered, as though the deer had stomped with unnatural strength.
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Elmore stood, glancing around the area. This was no ordinary deer. Whatever mutations had affected the squirrels and raccoons had reached the larger game as well, and it was clear that hunting in these woods would be more dangerous than ever. But he couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through him at the thought. Dangerous, yes. But fun.
With a final glance at the dead wolf, Elmore began to track the deer. The hunt was on.
Every hour or so, Elmore spoke into his walkie-talkie, keeping communication with Ash brief but steady. Her voice would crackle back, reassuring him that everything was still fine at home, and he'd return the same confirmation. These short exchanges were vital, not just for his peace of mind, but to make sure the battery didn’t die on him during a critical moment.
The day had been long, filled with quiet steps through the forest, each one calculated to keep his noise to a minimum. The forest itself seemed different—watchful in its stillness—yet the occasional rustling from creatures in the brush or the distant call of birds were enough to remind him that the wilderness was alive. He tracked the deer relentlessly, knowing he was close. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the land, he used the trick his father had taught him, measuring time until sundown with his fingers. He had an hour, maybe less.
Then he saw it.
Moving between the trees, the deer was like nothing he had ever imagined. Its size alone—easily over a ton—was enough to make Elmore pause. The buck’s antlers gleamed, grey metallic in the fading light, each tine sharp as a blade. Its hooves were the same, hardened to an unnatural sheen. But it was the face that sent a chill through him. Its muzzle, once familiar and herbivorous, was streaked with blood, sharp teeth protruding in odd angles from its jaws. It looked less like prey and more like a predator.
Elmore’s breath hitched, but he steadied himself. He spent the next half hour positioning himself carefully, crawling into a spot where he could get the upper hand—literally. A short, 12-foot cliff provided some advantage. If the shot wasn’t fatal, he figured it would at least give him a few extra seconds to regroup before the beast could charge him directly.
He crouched low, the old shotgun—rusted but reliable—pressed firmly against his shoulder. Kneeling, he braced the barrel against a tree for stability, the cold metal of the gun an anchor in his hands. Aiming carefully, he let out a slow breath, squeezing the trigger.
The shotgun blast shattered the quiet forest, the explosion of fur and blood from the deer's side was exactly as he'd anticipated. But what he hadn’t expected was for the deer to whip its head around, locking eyes with him—blood-red, full of fury. Without a moment’s hesitation, the monstrous deer charged straight at him blood draining from behind it's front leg.
Frantically, Elmore scrambled to reload, his heart pounding in his chest as the deer moved faster than anything that size should be able to. He barely managed to get another slug into the shotgun before the creature crested the cliff. With a desperate pull of the trigger, he fired, the slug striking the beast in its chest, but it kept coming slug stopped by bone..
Metallic antlers collided with the shotgun, one tine digging into his arm and colliding with bone, sending a jolt of pain through his body and a ringing in his ear. Elmore gritted his teeth, his mind flashing through every fight, every encounter he’d had with aggressive animals in the past. He shouldn’t have been strong enough to hold the deer off, but somehow, he was. His muscles strained, but he didn’t buckle, didn’t fall.
In the chaos, he redirected the deer just enough for it to slam its antlers into the tree beside him, the impact shaking the ground. Still, it managed to stomp at his leg, the razor sharp hoof tearing through his blue jeans and peeling skin and muscle away with a well placed stomp. Elmore’s leg burned,as layers of muscle was sheared away like an onion. The deer's leg caught in the torn fabric as he grappled with the massive creature.
Wrapping his arms around the deer’s neck, Elmore held on for dear life as the beast ripped its antlers free from the small tree. The next few minutes were a blur of pain and adrenaline as the deer bolted through the woods, slamming him into tree after tree. His body screamed in protest with every impact, but he held on. He *had* to hold on, because if he let go with his pants tangled around its front leg he would be trampled, and those hooves do not look friendly as they shatter sandstone rocks in its mad dash..
Finally, he was able to reach for the hatchet strapped to his side, yanking it free struggling with the velcro. With one arm still gripping the deer's neck, he swung the hatchet down onto the center of its skull, the blade biting deep. Again and again, he brought the hatchet down, until one of the beast’s metallic antlers snapped off at the base where bone and metal fused. When it hit the ground, the severed antler rang out like a tuning fork, vibrating against a rock playing a loud G note. Inadvertently exposing brain.
Elmore fell loose, landing hard on the forest floor. The deer, wounded but still dangerous, turned and lowered its head after stumbling and only stomping him once in the calf, after that it got ready to gore him with the remaining antler. Elmore barely managed to raise his hatchet in time, catching the antlers in the handle. The force of the blow sent another set of sharp gashs across his body, but he used the opening to grab his knife, sinking the blade deep into the creature’s exposed brain as an antler started to press against his forehead and a rock on the other side.
For what felt like hours but was only minutes, they wrestled.the deer flailing and kicking. Loud gurgling and heavy breaths as The deer’s life ebbed away with each passing second every new wound on its body no longer showing and sign of recognition, as its movements slowing and the tongue lulled out of its mouth and all that was left was a spark in its eye and the hot breath washing over Elmore's face, until finally they locked eyes what Elmore saw was not a dumb animal they was recognition in those eyes there was fear acceptance pain with a living breathing creature that he was slowly stabbing to death and when they finally saw each other stopped fighting Elmore stopped along with it and they just laid there was just breathing and the deers last act was to lick his face, all Elmore could think was goodbye and good fight, after it collapsed it's breath finally ceasing without breaking eye contact the life left those beautiful brown eyes and at the same moment Elmore felt like he became more than he was.
Elmore stood, his body aching, blood dripping from the various wounds covering his arms and legs. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and unslung his thermos from his back, taking a long drink of cold coffee to steady his nerves. The liquid was bitter but refreshing, grounding him after the madness of the hunt.
He knelt beside the massive creature, placing a hand on its bloodied side. Softly, he murmured a prayer, thanking God for the feast this beast would provide for his family. His Native American ancestors had always honored the animals they hunted, and though Elmore wasn't a practitioner he knew the rituals and understood why they were doing, he felt it was only right to show the same respect, especially after it put up such a true fight he would show the respect it had given him.
As he finished the prayer, he whispered a final thanks to the deer, acknowledging the life it had given up to sustain his own.
Clean up and the Trek home
After catching his breath and radioing home to Ash that he caught something and would be home in a day, maybe a day and a half. Elmore stood up and limped over to where his shotgun lay in the dirt, still smudged with blood. He picked it up, checked it over, and then returned to the carcass. The deer was massive even so he kneeled next to the body and set to work.
With a sharp blade, he cut deep into the knee of each leg, twisting the bones around in a way that turned the creature’s own tendons into makeshift straps. The legs slung over his shoulders and arms through holes cut into its flesh, he tied the ankles in front of his chest, fashioning the beast into a crude backpack. He grabbed the loose antler as well, figuring it might be useful later. Next, he set it back down and got to skinning it, carefully peeling the raw pelt from the flesh with fluid motions, working methodically until he had the hide cleanly rolled up sitting on a rock beside him so that it didn't get too dirty even if he could easily clean it later.
Gutting the monster was a messy affair, but one he was used to. The innards spilled onto the ground, sadly in the process one of the lungs popped when it hit the ground and he was rewarded with one of the most foul smells he ever smelled and the same smell he smells every time this happens. Alongside this he salvaged the heart and liver, as this was the first deer of the season he ate the liver warm, deciding to refrain from eating the heart so that he could feed it to Edward. As he cleaned up, he felt a strange warmth spread across his chest for a brief moment before it faded away. He blinked, a bit confused, but brushed it off. This wasn’t the time for strange sensations. He had a job to finish.
Once the deer was considerably lighter, now devoid organs that in future hunts he might need to keep, he hoisted the carcass onto his back. It was still heavy, but manageable. Elmore tightened the straps the best you could and grabbed the pelt so he can start the slow, grueling trek back home. The moon was high, illuminating the forest with an eerie glow, and in the distance, he spotted the faint glimmer of eyes reflecting in the night. Predators, no doubt. But luck was on his side, and the full moon seemed to keep them at bay as he pressed on. Or more likely they saw the size of his prey and realized that he was a predator like them and probably not worth it.
The walk stretched for hours, his muscles aching and his mind focused solely on the path ahead. Each step was careful, deliberate. And when the first sliver of sunlight peeked over the horizon, he finally stepped out from the woods and onto the dirt road leading to his home to say that this was a breath of fresh air would be an understatement as he had thought he was further from home than he was so he radioed in just to let her know.
Ash was waiting for him on the porch, a set of butcher knives laid out on the table beside her, gleaming in the early morning light. She smiled warmly as she saw him approach, her eyes filled with both relief and pride, a mask that she wore to hide her obvious worry.
"You made it," she said, stepping forward to help him. Together, they lowered the deer from his back, and Ash immediately set to work.
For the next several hours, they worked in tandem. Elmore watched her clean the deer, expertly slicing through the remaining meat, while Ash handled the finer parts of the butchery. The bones were placed in a pile, and almost as soon as they were set aside, Ditzy trotted over, her tail wagging eagerly, after looking at Elmore with pleading eyes and waiting for permission, She gnawed on them with enthusiasm, cracking into the marrow with a satisfied grunt to say Elmore was surprised she was even able to do that would be an understatement.
Eventually They removed the last antler, studying its metallic sheen. Ash tapped it experimentally, the same harmonic hum resonating through the air. “What do you think it’s made of?” she asked, flipping it in her hands.
“No idea,” Elmore replied, turning the hooves over in his hands. They were solid, harder than any hooves he’d ever seen. “We’ll figure it out. Might be useful for something, but my best guess is some type of organic metal which sounds insane when you say it out loud.”
With the carcass fully cleaned, they moved on to the pelt. Elmore, recalling the books he'd read in jail about mountain men in the Rocky mountains and their techniques for curing pelts, guided Ash through the process. They stretched the hide, treated it with the proper salts, and began the slow process of curing it for later use. Though it was their first time doing this together, it felt almost instinctive, as if the knowledge had always been there, waiting to be used. Has appeared to be the case with all knowledge now.
By the time they were finished, the sun had risen high into the sky. Exhausted but content, they decided to have a cookout. Elmore fired up the grill, and together they cooked large portions of the deer for eating now, the smell of sizzling meat wafting through the air. As they salted the remaining cuts and smoked them for long-term storage, Ash turned to Elmore with a tired but grateful smile.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but full of emotion. “For everything. You really worked hard now go take a bath I'm going to be in there to scrub out your wounds and maybe stitch you up I know your ass is too stubborn to let me do it until we were done”
Elmore nodded, deciding not to be a smart-ass this time he wiping the sweat from his brow. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
After his clean up and wound care they sat down to eat, he glanced at his arms and legs, only to realize that his wounds had already started to heal. There were going to be scars, but the cuts and gashes that had torn into him the day before had already stopped trying to bleed and the edges were already starting to pucker up red, as though they’d happened weeks ago, not just yesterday. He flexed his hand, feeling very little pain, only the faint pull of the newly forming scars.
Elmore let out a breath, not entirely surprised, but still a little in awe. Whatever was happening to the world—and to him—wasn't slowing down. He glanced over at Ash and Edward, who was gleefully gnawing on a small piece of the deer. Refusing to call it anything to Pizza has he has decided all foods are now called.
They were safe for now, safe and fed, and that’s all that mattered. And as this thought crossed his mind he passed out from exhaustion in his chair only to wake up 2 Days later very hungry and very thirsty. But because of his efforts neither of those were an issue for the Elmore family at least even after sharing it with his father and grandmother.
