#9941018

Our family has owned land in southern Virginia for decades. We’ve had roots here since before the American Revolution, and one of the things we’ve always been known for is the furs we sell. We sell the pelts of creatures that for all intents and purposes, should not exist.

There are things in the woods behind the house. Things that howl and scream at night. Things that hunt, things that were the hunters - at least until we came along.

A great grandfather of mine, Henry Gagnon, wrote down stories of his youth in the area, before the family really took advantage of the interesting prey in the area. Children were told not to go into the woods, as more often than not, they wouldn’t come back out again. They would go into the woods and would not return, and the howling would be louder and more frenzied that night.

One summer evening, my great grandfather disregarded his mother’s warnings, and went out into the woods. But his mother had had enough.

Armed with nothing but a kitchen knife, she marched out into the woods and brought her son home, and did not say what the blood on her skirts belonged to. And so, the hunting began. The howling of the beasts was replaced with the howling of the family’s hounds, replaced by gunshots and cries of triumph whenever a beast was slain. I have only ever killed two beasts from the woods - they are a difficult catch, but make for a rewarding hunt.

My first kill was a fox.

It did not act like a fox, but it looked like one. It was red, with black feet and a black-tipped tail, and a white muzzle. The fur around its jaws was stained with black ichor and blood, and its eyes were a solid black. It was just a bit too long, and its ears were torn and strange. It stared me down from the other side of the clearing, and it walked proudly, as if daring me to challenge it.

It bared its teeth, stained with black and blood, and a long, thin, barbed tongue flicked out to taste the air. This thing that may have once been a fox was ruined. It was monstrous, and beautiful, and I wanted it as a trophy.

It was hard to catch. It made no sound - silent, quick, and deadly, a perfect hunter. I managed it in the end, it was not the most frightening monster in that woods.

My second kill was my father.

Sometimes, a family member still gets lost in the woods. Someone will be sent out to fetch them or put them down, depending on their luck. Sometimes, the howling of the beasts sounds more like music, and sometimes, a person is inclined to sing along. My father was one of those unlucky souls.

He did not look like my father when I killed him, save for the eyes.

He was one of the monsters by the time I reached him. With sharp, uneven teeth, with talons that raked through the dirt, blood and black ichor crusted on his teeth and underneath his fingernails, some still dripping from his jaws.

I killed him, there in the woods. It was not a corpse I was proud to bring home, but it had to be done.

The corpse was set to be burned. I thought it was over with.

It was not.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a bloodcurdling scream, and when I rushed to my sisters’ room, the two were already dead or dying, drenched and drowning in their own blood. They had been torn open, ravaged by the thing that had been my father, and he was no longer in the room. I heard two gunshots, then a scream from my mother’s room, and I knew just before I ran down the hall that she, too, was already dead.

I shot the monster that had once been Jameson Gagnon eight times in the head before it finally fled, leaking blood and black ichor all the while. He has not been seen since.

I wonder if he’s still one of the things howling in the woods.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

The name Gagnon is familiar--while I haven’t seen it in any statements so far save for this one, I believe the family helps fund the institute. I’ll have to check again with Cordelia, but I don’t know where else I would have seen it.

The Gagnons refused any attempts to speak with them. The family does have a reputation for being... prickly and standoffish, so I’m not really surprised they won’t talk to us.