ೃ⁀➷ ❛ 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄 ❜
╰┈─➤ ❪ SAM WINCHESTER ❫
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
﹌﹌﹌ 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 a camping trip gone wrong
leads to abigail richardson hunting
the supernatural with the winchester
...
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02 |wendigo ²
Abigail's hands hit the ground first, supporting herself as the contents of her stomach emptied and fear filled her eyes. She shuffled away from the substance covering the leafy ground and crossed her legs beneath her, letting her eyes close.
That was the first mistake.
A flash of images rushed in front of her eyelids, filling the darkness. The one thing that frightened her the most was the final image, a gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes opened, scanning the dark area as she rose to her feet.
Abigail let out a shaking breath and grabbed the gun from her hidden pocket, the unsettling feeling of being alone in the woods at night catching up to her.
The rustling of the trees above her drew her eyes upwards. There, in the darkness of the night, was the skinny, pale body of something inhuman. Her breath caught in her throat as she slowly stepped backwards, turning the gun's safety off. She raised it upwards towards the creature and prepared to fire. By the time she was ready, it had gone.
Abigail searched around herself, moving frantically. Scrambling for her phone, she took it out and prepared to call Wendy when the no signal notification came up on the centre of her screen. With a curse leaving her lips, she turned it off and placed it back in her pocket.
Abigail spun around and slowly started walking, keeping the gun close for safety. She let her red hair fall in front of her eyes as her dress swayed with her every step, revolving around her thighs as she stepped through the bushes. Mud covered her previously nude-coloured boots -- not only that, but the heels were beginning to get on her nerves. She made a mental note to pick comfort over style the next time she went camping in the woods (which definitely wouldn't be for a long time after this night).
Abigail's shoulders tensed at the sound of twigs snapping behind her, swallowing the lump in her throat. She turned around swiftly and fired the gun, nothing there. Frowning, she was too distracted to notice the cold, white hand grabbing her ankle until it was too late.
She fell to the ground with her gun still in her hands, letting out a scream. It was nowhere close to how she needed it to sound, but she was too distracted by her struggles against the creature clawing her leg to force out a higher sound.
She kicked her loose left leg around as she was dragged down the dirt, the bottom of her dress catching and tearing on the surrounding sticks and stones -- accompanied by the skin beneath as well. Forcing her gun's safety off and hurrying to put it back in her pocket, she gathered her final needed level of focus.
