Without a word the three of us grabbed the hanging rifles and boxes of ammo, Brent led the two of us out of the cave. My boots clicked on the wooden boards we placed over the slippery rock.
As we walked into the treeline I looked up, the branches in the trees almost 20 stories above my head. The undergrowth was thin but large like the trees. Not too far in I spotted some tracks behind a tree.
“Brent, I found something.” We walked towards the tracks. Brent crouched down beside the large trail. The pads of the footprints were larger than a bear but the fingers were very long, almost like a monkey’s.
Brent stood up, fixing his rifle on his shoulder, “Lets not… worry about it, it's not a moose’s track that's for sure. Charles looked around the forest, “What if it's one of those Stalkers?” He took the words right off my head.
Brent continued on our trail, “It doesn't matter, best we keep moving.” A humming vibration in my ear, similar to a low pitched bee. I ignored it to catch up with the others, I glanced back at the large trail before releasing a sigh.
After some time Charles, out of nowhere, sprinted into the forest. At this time I realized how late it was getting. Brent stopped and ran after him,...