The Lycanthrope Club: What If...?

This is a new series requested by Alex Garcia that explores alternate realities in the Lycanthrope Club story. I will write additional chapters, continuing this story, if requested by another 50.00 USD tier Patron.

... Yvette had been transformed into a werewolf first? 

             Yvette stared at her translucent reflection in the car door window. A petite and somewhat skinny brown-haired teenage girl with kind-looking chestnut eyes stared back. She smiled softly and shifted her gaze beyond the glass to the passing landscape.

            The dense forest surrounding the narrow two-lane road seemed to go on forever. Myriad towering pines stood alongside massive spruces, proud elms and venerable, gnarled oaks. The foliage was so thick that some sections of the forest seemed all but impassible. Most was green, but some trees had leaves whose edges were yellowed or mottled. Beyond the occasional road sign and, of course, the road itself, there wasn't a sign of civilization. Even in the car, the sharp smell of pine needles and musty aroma of soil permeated the air.

            "Not long now, sport. Only thirty minutes," intoned an almost comically enthusiastic voice from the driver's seat.

            Yvette turned and saw Melinda's father in the rear-view mirror. He reminded Yvette of a stereotypical PE teacher. Or football coach. Not the manager of a system analyst team of an accounting firm. He had been addressing his daughter, Melinda Cooper, who was sitting in the passenger seat next to Yvette. She was a bit taller than Yvette but just as skinny and sported short-length ink-black hair and wore a pair of oval glasses. Her skin was paler, too. She was reading a book - or at least trying to. Yvette couldn't help but notice her friend's face twitch in annoyance when her father spoke.

            "Have you ever gone camping, Yvette?"

            It had been Melinda's mother who had spoken this time. Yvette liked her - she was polite and refined yet not snobby.

            "I can't say that I have, Mrs. Cooper," said Yvette, an unmistakable French lilt in her voice. "Relatives did offer to take me on a mountain trip when I visited family near the Pyrenees."

            "The pyramids? In France?" said Melinda's father, cocking his head.

            "Pyrenees, dad," sighed Melinda. "They're a mountain range between France and Spain."

            "Oh, uh, okay."

            Yvette stifled a giggle.

            "It was very nice of you to invite your friend, Melinda," said Melinda's mother, looking back at the two girls with a warm smile.

             Melinda suddenly looked more uncomfortable and irritated. She put her book down, leaned over to Yvette and whispered to her.

            "Sorry about roping you into this."

            Yvette looked at Melinda curiously.

            "I said I'd love to come, Melinda," replied Yvette in a sotto voice. "No need to apologize."

            "You don't have to say that. I know this whole thing sucks."

            "Well...why don't you give it a chance? It's quiet out here. Plenty of time to catch up with your reading, no?"

            "You don't know my dad," whispered Melinda furiously. "He's going to make this a living hell - fishing, hiking, survival lessons...wouldn't be surprised if he made us kill a deer and eat its uncooked heart."

            "Melinda!" exclaimed Yvette slightly louder than she had intended.

            "Is everything all right back there?" inquired Melinda's mother, glancing back at them again.

            "Uh, yeah, we're all good," said Melinda with an unconvincing grin.

            As soon as her mother turned back, Melinda rolled her eyes, opened her book and continued where she left off. Yvette's smile turned a little waxen.

  ***

            Upon arriving at the park, Yvette had to admit that Melinda may have had a point. Their assigned campsite resembled an ugly patch of packed dirt in the middle of a scraggly forest littered with discarded cans, bottles, food wrappers and other rubbish. Even Melinda's mother had paled visibly upon seeing it. However, Melinda's father was nothing if not keen - and persistent. After some cajoling he even managed to persuade Melinda to help clean up. Paper was picked up. Bottles and cans were deposited in the rusty recycling can near the road. Tents were erected. Logs and kindling were stacked in the shallow fire pit. In less than an hour, the place almost looked cozy.

            "There we go gang!" exclaimed Melinda's father, grinning ear to ear as he surveyed the transformed campsite. "Took practically no time at all!"

            "It took almost an hour, dad," said Melinda quietly from a foldout chair that had been set facing the fire pit. Yvette covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. It was the first time she'd ever seen Melinda sweat.

            "Now we can take a quick break," said Melinda's dad, rubbing his hands. "Then we'll need to get the campfire going and start cooking dinner." He paused. "Oh, that reminds me. Make sure you put all the food, toothpaste, anything that smells even remotely edible in the bear proof containers when you're done."

            "There aren't really any bears up here, are there dad?" said Melinda anxiously, sitting up.

            "Eh," said her father, wiggling his fingers. "We're on the edge of their range. There have been a couple of sightings but they're pretty rare out here. Still, better safe than sorry."

            "No wolves though, right?" asked Yvette suddenly and more loudly than she had intended.

            "Same thing," said Melinda's father, shrugging. "We're near their range but there aren't a lot of sightings."

            "Is everything alright, dear?" asked Melinda's mother.

            "Oh, yes, er, everything's fine," said Yvette, blushing slightly.

            "Yvette really doesn't like wolves," said Melinda absently.

            "Huh? Why?" asked Melinda's father.

            "Um, can't really say," said Yvette, hugging herself. "I've just...never like them. Or dogs, for that matter. My neighbors used to have these really big Dobermans when I was little and...maybe that's why."

            "Well, you shouldn't worry," said Melinda's father. "Like I said, their range really doesn't extend this far and there aren't a lot of sightings." He paused and then grinned mischievously. "Though, there is this old Ojibwe legend about a devil wolf that terrorized th-"

            "Sorry to interrupt, dear," called Melinda's mother. "I think one of these tent...pegs came loose. Can you help me hammer it back in?"

            "Sure!" he said. He nodded at the girls before heading over. "I'll save it for the campfire tonight."

            "Great," sighed Melinda, rising from her seat once her father was out of earshot. She walked over to Yvette. "Don't be surprised if he sneaks up to your tent tonight and makes growling noises."

            "Please ask him not to," said Yvette quietly.

            "If I did ask them not to, he'd do it for sure," sighed Melinda. "I think mom caught onto what he's up to. She's good at that. Just let her handle him. It's what I do."

            "I...uh..." Yvette began.

            "Yeah?"

            Yvette shook her head and smiled weakly.

            "Nothing, Melinda," she said. "I know you think this camp trip is terrible but...thank you for inviting me again. I still appreciate it."

            Melinda gave Yvette an odd look.

            "I guess it won't be as bad with you here," she said eventually, returning the smile.

  ***

            Several hours later the sun had dipped below the trees. The sky had transitioned from light blue to blue to dark blue to nearly black. A few stars peppered the dark firmament above. Crickets filled the cool night air with their gentle chirp.

            Melinda's father stirred the campfire with a worn metal prod. The blaze hissed, almost as though irritated, as one of the larger logs inside it shifted and fell over. A cluster of glowing orange motes erupted from the fire, floated up into the smoky air and then slowly faded away. Melinda's mother leaned over and hugged him from her seat next to him, smiling. Yvette pulled her marshmallow out of the fire and examined it. Satisfied it had acquired that perfect brown tinge she reached down with her free hand and retrieved a graham cracker from a nearby bag.

            "Not too bad, eh?" said Melinda's father smugly.

            "It's wonderful, dear," said Melinda's mother.

            "It is!" said Yvette enthusiastically. She put the cracker on her lap and broke off a piece of chocolate from a larger bar. She assembled the s'more and then took a big bite out of it, grinning as she chewed.

            Melinda just sighed from her seat next to Yvette. She was resting her chin on her hand, staring into the fire. She looked bored out of her mind.

            "Melinda, don't you want to make one?" said Yvette, gesturing at the bag of marshmallows.

            "I'm good, thanks," said Melinda, waving a hand.

            "Okay," said Yvette. She took another bite of her s'more.

           Somewhere off in the distance, an owl hooted.

            "Actually, I was thinking about going to bed," said Melinda, glancing over at her tent.

            "This early?" said Melinda's mother. "It can't be any later than 8 o'clock."

            "Well, with all the stuff dad has planned for us tomorrow, I figured I'll need as much rest as I can get," said Melinda.

            Yvette shot her friend a look. Melinda didn't seem to notice.

            Melinda's father carefully placed the prod on the dirt, leaned forward and grinned wickedly. "Before you hit the hay, I think you should hear the legend of the Wolf-Thing."

            "Dad!" protested Melinda.

            "You promised you wouldn't," said Melinda's mother sharply.

            "This is important," said Melinda's father. "It might even save your life."  He spoke in a steady, solemn, sincere voice, but the gleam in his eyes gave away the game.

            "Come on, dad, Yvette is really sensitive about this," said Melinda angrily.

            "It's okay," said Yvette suddenly.

            "Huh?"

            Yvette slowly set her skewer down next to the fire and nodded. She even managed a smile."Let's hear it, Mr. Cooper," she said.

            Melinda and her mother stared at Yvette for a few seconds. Melinda opened her mouth as though to protest but then shut it and sank sullenly back in her chair. Her mother simply turned to her father and waited, curious.

            Somewhat surprised, but pleased, Melinda's cleared his throat. He leaned closer to the fire. Its dull glow lent his face an eerie, otherworldly appearance.

            "Many years ago a great catastrophe visited the people of these lands," he began. "Rather than a flood, drought, famine or plague, it came in the form of a ravenous beast - half-man, half-wolf. No-one knew where it came from. Some whispered it was a former warrior who had been cursed by the Great Spirit after the warrior killed his brother. Others said the white man had brought it to these lands to torment the people."

            He paused and gazed around the camp. Yvette was listening closely, as was Melinda's mother though not quite as keenly. Melinda seemed to be paying attention but wore a resigned, impatient expression.

            "Regardless," continued Melinda's father, "The beast's hunger knew no bounds. It stalked the forests devouring deer, elk, rabbits and all other animals. Then, it began stealing fish from fishermen, vegetables from gardens and even maple syrup from taps. Legend says it could eat in a night what could feed an entire family for a whole season. When the people tried to drive it off or kill it, it retaliated, slaughtering every warrior who dared approach. Its thick hide could not be pierced by club or ax. Once, a warrior got lucky and shot it in the eye with an arrow. But the monster pulled it out like it was nothing more than an annoying thorn and bit the astonished man in half."

            Melinda stifled a yawn. Yvette, however, could feel her heartbeat quickening. She gazed uneasily behind her shoulder. The forest beyond the light of the flickering campfire was now completely dark.

            "Desperate, the people turned to their greatest hunter and begged him to rid them of the creature. This hunter was unsure, for while swift and clever, he was no fighter. Nevertheless, he feared for his family and so was resolved to end the wolf-thing's reign of terror. He gathered what little food he had saved, placed it in the middle of a clearing, hid in a nearby tree and waited. Soon, the beast came across the food and starting eating. Perhaps it knew it was a trap, but it was arrogant, believing nothing in the world could harm it. Then, the hunter leapt down into the clearing. Rather than attack, the hunter taunted the beast, hurling pine cones and dung. Enraged, it charged and the hunter fled. Though the creature ran as fast as the wind the hunter was cunning and knew the forest better than anyone. He led the beast far away from the people. Mile after mile they ran. Some say they circled the world two times."

            "This hunter guy outran a wolf?" interrupted Melinda.

            "Uh, yeah, he did," said her father, losing some momentum.

            "How fast can a wolf run? Like, twice as fast? Three times as fast as a person?" observed Melinda sardonically.

            "It's just a story, Melinda," said her mother, a timbre of reprimand in her voice. "Go on, dear," she nodded at her husband.

            "The hunter grew tired and the beast grew closer and closer," continued Melinda's father. "It seemed the hunter was doomed. But he had a plan. The hunter turned and yelled, daring the beast to come at him. Angry, exhausted and starving, the beast hurled towards the hunter only to fall into the camouflaged pit the hunter had dug weeks ago."

            Yvette heard Melinda mutter 'so the guy just happened to have a pit all ready to go...' under her breath.

            "The beast was impaled upon the many sharpened stakes the hunter placed there," continued Melinda's father, apparently not hearing his daughter snide remark. "Though alive, the beast could not pull itself from the stakes or the pit. It was trapped. Triumphant, the hunter covered the pit with soil, rock and logs and returned to the people. He was hailed as a hero. And though it took many years for the land to recover from the wolf-thing's rampage, the hunter and his family never knew hunger again."

            Melinda's father paused again. He grinned.

            "As for what happened to the creature? Well, some say it starved to death soon after being trapped. Others say that if you listen closely you can still hear the creature snarling and thrashing beneath the earth as it struggles to escape its prison. Some whisper that the soil around the pit has grown loose over the years. If you walk these woods at night, step lightly and keep your ears open, for if you aren't careful you may fall into the pit and be devoured by the wolf-thing."

            Melinda's father leaned back. For a time, everyone was still and silent. The crackle of the fire and rhythmic chirp of the crickets hung in the smoky air.

            Then, Yvette started clapping. Melinda's mother smiled and started clapping as well. Even Melinda, albeit reluctantly, gave a few slow claps towards the end.

            "Wonderfully told, dear," said Melinda's mother. "Where did you hear this story?"

            "An old Indian shaman told me," said Melinda's father.

            "Uh-huh," said Melinda skeptically. "So, you weren't reading through old Ojibwe legends on that website last night?"

            "Uh, I was just making sure I got the story right."

            "Are you okay, Yvette?" inquired Melinda's mother.

            "I'm okay, Mrs. Cooper," said Yvette. She was, in truth, more than a little spooked by the story. She couldn't help but imagine the wolf-thing from the story - a massive, hulking, dark-furred monstrosity, eyes glowing red, writhing about a dark pit soaked in blood. She wasn't sure what terrified her more - the creature or its terrible fate.

            "It's just some story guys like my dad made up to scare kids," said Melinda, patting Yvette on the shoulder.

            "Oh no...this story is real," said Melinda's father ominously.

            "Sure it is, dad."

            "Really, it has basis in fact," he insisted. "There're records of Ojibwe tribespeople warning settlers and frontiersmen about a dangerous wolf. Some anthropologist or archeologists even found paw prints of a gigantic wolf in the area."

            "Well, if it's on the internet, it has to be right," said Melinda, rolling her eyes.

            "Exactly!"

  ***

            With a final tug, Yvette pulled her thick white woolen sweater off. She shivered - her bare arms now exposed to the chilly night air - but carefully tucked the sweater in her duffel bag. She had brought her pajama bottoms but didn't feel like changing into them, resolving to sleep in her panties and an undershirt. She'd already brushed her teeth and dropped her toiletries in the bear-proof cooler Melinda's father had supplied. There didn't seem to be much left to do but go to sleep. The campfire was dying, casting a feeble dark-orange radiance that merely turned shadow into slightly less deep shadow.

            "Hey."

            Yvette turned and raised a hand to shield her eyes. It was Melinda. She was carrying a flashlight.

            "Sorry again about my dad," sighed Melinda, lowering the torch. "I had a little talk with him and I'm pretty sure he's not going to pull any of that hazing crap tonight. And if he does, my mom will make him regret it."

            "Really, it's okay, Melinda," said Yvette.

            Melinda gave a vague shrug.

            "Melinda...I'm sorry, but why are you so mean to your dad?"

            Melinda blinked. She stared at Yvette for an uncomfortably long time with a deadpan expression. Yvette squirmed a little, already regretting the question. It had just popped into her head and tumbled out of her lips before she could stop it.

            "I just...wish he would realize I'm not into the crap he likes," murmured Melinda, looking away. "It's like he thinks I'm a boy or...if he just keeps treating me like one I'll start acting like one. It gets really old."

            "Have you tried talking with him?" asked Yvette. "Just sitting down and telling him that the things he makes you do make you unhappy?"

            "I tell him I don't want to do this stuff all the time," snorted Melinda.

            "Not just saying no or...or complaining," said Yvette, searching for the right words. "I mean, having a real conversation with him."

            "It'd just go over his head," said Melinda dismissively. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Since we're playing therapist here, you really need to stop trying to hang out with Cynthia and her cheerleaders minions. They're not your friends anymore."

            "Come on, Melinda," said Yvette, smiling. "You know that's not true."

            "Look, I'm not exactly Gossip Girl here, but I have heard some of the stuff they've been whispering about you. It's...it's just plain messed up. Seriously, they're bad news."

            "They're just putting on a show, Melinda," said Yvette quietly. "They don't mean it."

            "Yes the-..." Melinda stopped and raised her hands with an exasperated expression. "You know what? Forget it," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "It's late. I'm tired. I want to get as much sleep as I can because I know my dad is going to pull us out of our tents at the break of dawn." She gestured at the blue nylon tent before them.

            "Umm," said Yvette, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

            "What? What is it?" said Melinda wearily.

            "I...have to go to the bathroom."

            "The port-o-potties are right over there," said Melinda, pointing somewhere in the darkness. She hesitated. "Oh, sorry," she added, proffering her flashlight.

            "Could you... come with me?" asked Yvette meekly.

            "Huh?"

            "I'd feel safer. It's just...all those stories about bears and wolves..."

            "Goddammit, dad," groaned Melinda. She nodded sympathetically. "Come on, let's go."

            Melinda turned and started walking in the direction she'd indicated the toilets were. Yvette followed gratefully, sticking close to her friend.

            The ground beyond the campsite was covered in a soft layer of fallen brown and yellow needles and leaves. Their feet barely made a sound as they strode through the dark forest. The crickets had fallen silent. Only the faint rustle of the wind through the trees and the occasional snapped twig interrupted the all-encompassing stillness pervading the woods.

            Suddenly, Yvette felt a sense of dread creep over her. Something was...wrong. She couldn't explain the feeling or rationalize it but knew it wasn't just nerves. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart was pounding against her petite chest. It was as though she had stepped out of reality and into horror film.

            "Let's go back," she said abruptly.

            "Huh?" said Melinda, looking around. "But we're already here."

            Yvette looked up and saw a pair of blue port-o-potties standing before her.

            "Oh, uh..."

           "What's wrong?"

          "Nothing...nothing..." said Yvette, albeit uneasily.

          "You sure?" said Melinda skeptically.

          "I'm sure."

            Blushing, Yvette hurried up to one, opened the door and shut it. A few seconds passed. Then, Yvette nudged the door open a crack and extended a hand. Melinda wordlessly passed her the flashlight. Once she'd finished her business, Yvette stepped outside and shut the door behind.

            Melinda was gone.

            Yvette froze. She looked around with the flashlight. There was no trace of her friend. Nothing.

            "M-Melinda?" she said softly.

            There was no reply.

            "Melinda?" she called, this time far louder.

            Again, she was met with silence. She stepped around the port-o-potties and surveyed the forest on the other side. Still no sign of her - not even footprints. She shivered - whether from the cold, fear or both, she wasn't certain.

            "Melinda!" she wailed, this time as loudly as she could.

            "This isn't funny," she whispered, praying that this was simply an unexpected and uncharacteristically cruel prank on her friend's part.

            A few, panic-filled seconds later, she started marching stiffly back towards the campsite. She had no real other option. If Melinda was there, all would be well. If she wasn't, she needed to let her parents know right away.

            Several minutes passed. Yvette stopped and looked around. Nothing looked familiar. Granted, there wasn't much to orient by, but the campsite wasn't terribly far from the port-o-potties.

            "Hello! Mr. Cooper? Mrs. Cooper?" This time she actually screamed.

            She waited for a reply. None came.

            Yvette stared into the darkness desperately trying to make out some glimmer of the campfire or outline of one of the tents. Remembering the flashlight, she flicked the switch and raised it, scanning the area. Its narrow beam of light passed along the ground, clumps of grass, tree trunks, and moss-covered rocks. Yvette saw no sign of the tents, the campfire, the Cooper's car or even the nearby dirt road. Swallowing, unsure and shaking with fear, she slowly turned and started walking back towards the port-o-potties. She rationalized that she might be able to re-orient herself once she reached them. Or Maybe Melinda had returned.

            A minute passed. Then five. It occurred to Yvette that she should have seen the port-o-potties by now. And there was no way she could have lost track of where they were given how close they were, even this late at night. She stopped.

            As Yvette stood there in dark, utterly alone, a sound filled the air.

            It wasn't a particularly loud sound. But the silence in the woods amplified it - like a single drop of water sending ripples along the surface of a placid pool. It could be described as a sort of scratching with a strange, throaty, growling beneath it.

            Yvette looked down. The noise was coming from under the ground. In a flash she remembered Mr. Cooper's story. She whimpered. This was insane! This couldn't be happening! It had to be some kind of nightmare!

            Slowly, gingerly, she took a step backwards. However, when her foot met the ground she felt no resistance. Suddenly, almost as though pulled by some unseen force, she lurched back and fell into the earth.

            The flashlight slipped from her hand as she slid into the buried crevasse. Sharp twigs, dry needles, coarse dirt and rocks raked her pale smooth skin. She opened her mouth to scream only to half-choke on the surrounding detritus. She wiggled and thrashed about in her underground prison, gasping for air as she descended deeper into the earth. Then, she stopped.

            Yvette slowly opened her eyes. She saw nothing but darkness. Every part of her hurt and she feared her left ankle was sprained or worse. Blood was dribbling from numerous punctures and lacerations spanning her entire body. The only good news was that she could breathe again, though the air was horribly musty and wet.

            Just as she was starting to recover from her frightening ordeal, Yvette saw something that sent her reeling into a state of absolute, mind-numbing terror.

            Two enormous glowing red eyes appeared in the gloom mere yards away from her.

            This final horror proved too much for Yvette's already fear-addled brain to bear. Her eyelids fluttered, her head lolled back and she fainted.

  ***

            Yvette thrashed about in the void. Hot, searing pain enveloped her whole being. She screamed and cried out, tears flowing from her bloodshot eyes. Dark veins throbbed beneath her perspiring, paper-white skin.

            Slowly, the agony that gripped her transmuted in a bizarre pressure. It was as though her skin was shrinking or her muscles and organs were growing. She felt like an overripe grape being squeezed in a vice. The strain migrated up her arms and concentrated around her hands. Though she couldn't see anything, Yvette felt her fingers swell up like sausages. Then with a hideous crunch her nails shattered. Long, stubby claws emerged from the resulting bloody stumped. It hurt - a lot - but not as much as Yvette thought it would.

            This was only the beginning. Her bones cracked and twisted as her limbs elongated as though transmuted into claw and pulled and molded by invisible hands. A maddening itch enveloped her skin as thick white fur sprouted in uneven patches along her arms, legs, chest and back. Through grit teeth - which were narrowing into fangs - Yvette managed to half-stand only to fall upon all fours and arch her back, emitting a low-pitched keen that was not at all human.

            Every time she tried to focus her mind, some new agony or alien sensation would grip her and deflect any attempt to comprehend what was happening or where she was. All she could do was endure it.

            It occurred to Yvette that she had gotten bigger. Much bigger. The only real indication was that her body felt heavier than it ever had before. What's more, she was standing on all fours yet it did not seem awkward in the least. She hazarded a step forward. Her legs and arms moved seemingly in tandem before she slumped down as another wave of changes hit her. She grew even larger as her once nearly non-existent muscles packed on pound after pound of mass. Her biceps, deltoids and triceps bulged like overinflated water balloons. Her abs tightened into concrete-like slabs. Her skinny chicken-legs transformed into powerful, furry digitigrade gams that could have kicked holes in a steel door.

            As she got larger and larger a strange exhilaration began to displace the pain. Adrenaline surged throughout her body. She rose up, this time proudly, lifted her now lupine head and howled wildly. The void itself seemed to quiver from the sound of her voice. Then, everything faded away.

  ***

            "...-vette! Yvette! Please! Wake up!"

            Yvette slowly opened her grime-covered eyes. She slowly peered up and was met with a blinding white light. She winced and shut her eyes again.

            "Sorry!" cried Melinda, lowering her flashlight.

            Yvette looked up again and saw Melinda's concerned face looking down at her.

            "Mom! Dad! I found her!"

            "Quoi...where..." murmured Yvette in a daze. She crawled forward an inch or two.

            "Easy," hissed Melinda, crouching down. "Dad already called the rangers. I think they can get you to a hospital when they get here."

            "Hospital?" said Yvette, confused.

            "You're covered in blood, Yvette!" cried Melinda. Tears were running down her cheeks.

            Yvette glanced down. Her shirt, pants and undergarments were torn and speckled with blood. Her entire body was covered in dirt, leaves and pine needles. The strange thing was she didn't really feel any pain. She felt a bit stiff and her skin itched like mad, but that was it.

            "What happened?" said Yvette.

            "You...you just started walking off into the forest after you left the port-o-potty!" exclaimed Melinda with a sort of impotent, sorrowful rage. "I tried to stop you but you just started running and I...I lost track. It was like you were in some kind of trance or..." she broke down, sobbing.

            "Easy, easy there sport," said Melinda's father from behind. He gently hugged his daughter and led her away while Melinda's mother hurried over to Yvette. She was carrying a first aid kit.

            "Try to stay calm," said Melinda's mother in firm yet comforting voice. She sat down on the ground beside Yvette, popped open the small white case and started digging through it.

            As Melinda's mother unwound the gauze, Yvette turned her head and gazed into the forest. For a moment, she could swear she saw something staring back.