Chapter One

October 1775, The Gulf of Alaska

  The orange glow of dawn peeked through a tiny gap in the gloomy sheet of inky clouds that weighed down upon the newly formed jewel rising peacefully above the horizon. A storm was brewing. To First Officer Isaac Lawrence's eyes, it looked almost as if the sun were a glistening, apricot-colored pearl nestled between the impossibly large bivalve shell created from the joining of sea and sky. Miraculously, he had survived another long and cold night at sea on his voyage to wild, untamed lands. Isaac always preferred the light of day to the dark ruminations that would consume him at night. Isaac was a thin, disheveled man in a blue overcoat. His cravat necktie was mis-tied in haste—clumps of dirty platinum blonde hair peak out from his crooked tricornered lieutenant’s hat. Large dark circles were prominent under his melancholy blue eyes. His mind drifted aimlessly as he watched waves crashing against the side of the vessel. A haunting dream had overstayed its welcome. His paralysis would remain until a sharp and commanding voice snapped him out of his trance and urged him to move with the crew.

 “Edging Forward!” shouted Captain Christopher Amon as the exploratory vessel turned portside, avoiding collision with a sizable blue-hued pinnacle iceberg. To Isaac, its peak resembled the preserved talon of a long-dead and forgotten sea god, whose hubris was bounded by an everlasting stillness, for it had failed to fully penetrate its new realm above the turbulent waves. Frozen fog stuck on the men’s beards as they positioned themselves to adjust the sails and maneuver the ship through the icefield towards the shoreline.

   “Easy, does it. Let’s bring her in softly so we can drop anchor, and for God’s sake, Mr. Miller, hurry up and onboard the supplies into the dinghy,” Captain Amon bellowed.

   “Aye, aye, sir.” came a weak voice from below the deck. Isaac watched as a thin, wiry man spring into action, bringing up crates and loading them into a small craft tied to the side of the ship.

     It was late October 1775; the HMS Nyx was a British galleon class vessel tasked with exploring and charting the feral Alaskan coastline. Its mission, with Captain Christopher Amon at the helm, was to identify coastal areas with valuable natural resources like gold or iron and report back to the crown to scout possible locations to establish a colony. Captain Amon was a tall, shrewd, strong-jawed man, his dark hair tainted with smokey patches of white. In his former life, he was a naval lieutenant who served during the Seven Years’ War. He had made a name for himself during the Battle of Lagos when he aided in tracking the French fleet under the waning crescent moonlight, which earned him his sobriquet “The Black Dog of Lagos.”

    Two years later, his naval career was cut short by wooden shrapnel when a cannonball struck the stern of their ship. He recovered, but not without the use of a cane, and found a quieter career captaining exploratory vessels. The monotony of the sea dulled his courage, but his eyes and senses were as sharp as ever. Still clinging to the past, he had the handle of his ebony cane carved to resemble a mastiff. The old dog, forever at attention.

    The Nyx expedition had left Liverpool eight months prior after stopping in Newfoundland. They had traveled through the Northwest Passages, around the Alaskan North Slope, and through the Bering Sea. They were now in the Alaskan Gulf, hopeful of finishing their journey soon and heading southward before the winter developed.

     “Mr. Raeburn, right on time. Join the others. Amaruq wants to discuss something with the away party,” announced Captain Amon. Isaac watched with envious eyes as a young man with bright red curly hair in a green overcoat stepped up onto the deck from below. A native American Inuit man stood at attention next to the captain. He was cloaked in an elk hide, bearing a grimace and a furrowed brow. He paced in front of the men as he spoke.

    “I’ll keep this brief,” stated Amaruq. “I know little about this region. Yet, I caution you all to keep your eyes out. Some elders say this land is cursed. Some have claimed an Inupasugjuk, or killer giant, may live on that mountain. I know not, yet as winter approaches, I do know the bears and wolves shall be hungry. Allow me a warning if you see any signs of predators on our journey ashore today.” Isaac shifted awkwardly. The thought of predators made him nervous.

    “Alright, men, you heard our guide Amaruq, pay his words heed, and toe the line. Let’s find some gold out here before we freeze to death. For God and Crown! Now, Mr. Raeburn and Amaruq shall join ashore along with Mr. Lawrence and myself,” said Captain Amon.

“Sir, is that wise?” chirped First Officer Isaac Lawrence, his voice frail but filled with genuine concern for the captain’s safety.

“My dear first officer, thank you for your concern, yet I am tired of this ship. As this may be our last coastal expedition, I desire to join. Would that be alright with you?”

Isaac fought back the impulse to argue and instead nodded to his captain. As first officer Isaac aided in navigational duties, managing the safety and work of the men on deck, and, while on watch, carried out the captain’s authority.

    “Fine, indeed, I lack Mr. Talbot, Mr. Hull, Mr. Miller, Mr. Porter, and Mr. Jones to join us. Gather your things; let’s drop anchor and be content in a quarter hour or so to make our way to that inlet beach there. The rest of the crew man your stations, and be sure to keep someone on icebreaking office till we return. Get Underway!” Captain Amon asserted as he moved to collect his things from the captain’s quarters.

    Henry Raeburn served as the ship’s doctor, naturalist, and geologist for the expedition. Now, he frantically began packing his knapsack full of equipment for their journey ashore, only briefly stopping to adjust his double-folding temple glasses or to push his tightly curled red locks of hair out of his face. Henry was a Scottish man in his early thirties who had escaped his father’s urges to join the clergy and instead opted to learn medicine at the University of Edinburgh. After a brief stint at a hospital as a physician’s assistant, Henry was inspired by the tales of Commodore George Anson’s voyage around the world and decided to look for work as a crew member on an expedition vessel. The Nyx was his first adventure, and it had proven to be more than he had bargained for. 

    Henry often wondered if treating cholera patients back in London was preferable to the harshness of the wilderness. However, he did find enjoyment in collecting and categorizing animals, plants, and minerals during their frequent stops along the coast. Henry kept his favorite specimen of each type on his makeshift bookshelf in his room on the ship. It included a newly classified Achemon Sphinx Moth (Eumorpha achemon) caught on a stump near a meadow, an unidentified fern of the Polystichum genus plucked from under a granite boulder, and a milky green lump of jade found in a stream near the Brooks mountains.

    Henry mostly kept to himself, having little interest in speaking with the rest of the crew, yet he had become close friends with Captain Amon, as the two were of a similar social class and both had received formal education. Late at night, they would discuss the philosophical ideas of Descartes or Locke, often complaining about the poor quality of wine the captain had decided to take on the voyage. However, their friendship had recently begun to sour as Amon had called to continue the journey for two months longer than previously agreed upon.

His packing nearing completion, Henry stopped to admire his silvery pocket watch. Etched into the back of the watch was an elegant swan. Abigail Vivor, a dark-haired nurse at the hospital, had given it as a going-away gift. Often, he would recall her freckled face and wonder how life might be different if he had pursued her instead of the sea. Suddenly, the loud ringing of the deck bell interrupted Henry’s forlorn nostalgia trip, and he quickly gathered the last of his things to make his way to the dinghy.

    The shoreline appeared to Isaac Lawrence’s eyes like a sinister, slithering dark organic mat that pulsated with the crashing of pale waves. This rhythmic throbbing of water on silt made the land feel unfamiliar and rotting. To Isaac, it as if the land were nothing more than the decaying skin of a vast beached colossus, eroding and slowly being digested back into the sea. It was an illusion, brought on by the stark contrast of the dark shore against the all-white ice filled sea. Then again, as they drew closer to the coast, the ice, once a calm blue tone, now had become tinted dirty refuse sullied by contact from the gloomy grit of this forsaken land.

His misery was unbearable.

Isaac had once believed he was a man of great promise; now, he languished in his current prison of mediocrity. Trapped on a voyage to this bloated corpse of icy peril.

Isaac had once had dreams of the theater. However, life had other plans for him. After his father’s untimely death, Isaac had become saddled with his debt. As the eldest son of four, it had become his responsibility to provide for his mother and siblings when he was seventeen. The mounting pressure had consumed him, and one night, he left for the docks, never to return. Working at sea was perfect for escaping the endless hordes of debt collectors or avoiding debtors’ prisons entirely. Although free from his family obligations, he had created a jail of guilt in his mind for abandoning them when they needed him the most.

    He had not seen or spoken to his family in fifteen long years. As a boy, he had a bright and bombastic personality. His platinum blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and confident smirk had made him popular during his schooling days. Often, he’d daydreamed of playing Hamlet or Romeo in front of a packed house at a posh theatre in London’s West End. At sea, he had been reduced to a husk of his former self. He was proficient at his duties, but completely mired in despair for what his life had become. He often wished for an escape; many nights, while on watch, he would make his way to the bow and contemplate jumping into the frigid waters. His cowardice prevented his action. Worthless and alone, it had been Captain Amon who was his last bastion of strength. Isaac looked up to him and desperately wished a man like the captain had been his father instead of the worthless scum that had caused his discontent. The coastline drew closer, and Isaac began to probe his mind to find answers to his uneasiness.

    Isaac thought about the night before. A peculiar dream had vexed him. He remembered aimlessly walking around Piccadilly Circus in the late-night hours in December. A light dusting of frost filled the streets. He was alone in a cold void with just the streetlamps to find his way, skulking around the empty streets for what felt like hours. As he walked, he noticed the buildings around him began to stretch and warp like the villi of the gut. Their once dark brick and mortar became fleshy, red, and squirming. The strange undulation of his surroundings caused him to panic; as he took to his heels, he noticed the streetlamps begin to twist, and their flames detached, becoming willow wisps of orange light floating down the ever-changing organic corridors that shifted as the growing spires swayed.

    The frost on his feet had become a viscous mucous that began to impede his movements. His steps were heavy; his progress slowed as if trudging through a bog. Horrified, he looked down to notice his feet began to meld with the street. He looked towards the heavens for an escape, yet instead of the night sky he was familiar with, he only saw one radiant pink star where Polaris should be. As he gazed at the otherworldly light, he felt a calming sensation fill him like a sailor in a storm seeing the lighthouse beacon, knowing that this guiding light would provide a safe arrival back home to port. The star’s glow produced a feeling of relief; he forgot about his predicament and stared at the astral object, its brightness increasing tenfold. Then, the star spoke to him in an unfamiliar, primordial language of low hums, chirps, and tones.

It was as if these forbidden utterances had halted the entropy of the universe. Each ancient buzz of the star triggered a pulsing flash that caused mass ejections of sparkling crimson gas and dust to spew from the margins of the star, birthing a malevolent nebula. Although he didn’t understand it, he knew he wanted to please it for taking away his fear. He felt his feet again, unencumbered. A smile grew as a warmth was felt on his body. Then he noticed something heavy in his left hand. When he looked down, he was squeezing a knife drenched in blood. His right-hand clutching something squishy and soft. The corpses of his mother and three sisters lay at his feet. Their insides were removed and hanging from his body like perverse ornamentations. The warmth he had felt was their still balmy organs and fluids flowing down his body. He felt a periodic throbbing in his right hand. The rhythm had reminded him of a beating heart, yet the size was wrong. The object was far too small; it was only a fraction of a farthing, held tightly in the center of his palm. He was too afraid to open his hand to look at it. Then, each pulse of the thing grew exponentially as he looked at his clenched hand. Eventually, the pounding began to shake his bones. He opened his mouth to scream, yet only a ghastly bright pink light exploded out from deep within his throat, followed by the sensation of a wave of slimy tentacles writhing out of his open mouth where he expected to hear his voice cry out.

He had awakened in a cold sweat, shaking from the experience. His first thought was that the guilt of leaving his family was manifesting again. However, he couldn’t shake the fact that this nightmare had been the most vivid he had ever experienced. With no one to talk to, it had been festering in his mind all morning.

“Mr. Lawrence! For the third time, help Mr. Talbot pull the craft ashore!” shouted Amon, snapping Isaac out of his trance.

“Yes, Sir!” Isaac jumped out of the dinghy and grabbed the rope to help pull it to shore. His feet and ankles were soaked in cold brine as he focused on fighting the chop of the sea.

As Isaac looked out into the distance, he could see a heavy layer of fog and vapor that decapitated the white-capped mountains. Decapitated? Why had that word come to his mind? He wasn’t sure, but one mountain stuck out to him, its base a wide skirt of ancient rock with blotches of dense evergreen forest. Although the peak was obscured by clouds, a frozen river of ice bled down the side of the peak, indicative of a much larger glacier hidden from the explorer’s eyes. Bled, can ice bleed? Again, the words forming in his head had violent undertones. Isaac’s unease grew. He could see the beach extended for another one hundred fifty feet or so, prevented from corrupting more of the land by a thick row of pine trees. He focused on the task and dug his heels into the sand for more traction as he pulled the craft ashore.

Henry leaped out and began scouring for treasure as the men pulled the dinghy onto the sand. Driftwood, algae, and long strands of kelp were scattered along the beach. Henry quickly became excited as his eyes caught sight of numerous strange translucent orange and cream domes dispersed on the beach. As he drew near the closest of these oddities, he noticed the center of these domes resembled a light-toned pupil surrounded by ochre lines that created the illusion of an iris. Upon closer inspection, Henry recognized these ethereal eyes as the bells of frozen jellyfish. Henry was ecstatic and quickly pulled a small jar from his pack, unsealed the lid, and began trying to scrape one of the domes into the container for study.

“What have you found there, Mr. Raeburn?” asked Amon, as Mr. Talbot helped the captain out of the dinghy.   

“I believe it may be a new species of jellyfish!” Henry shouted back as he pushed his precious specimen with a newly acquired piece of driftwood into the jar.

The rest of the men finished pulling the boat ashore and began to collect their bags for the trek inland. Henry noticed Edward Talbot held his right nostril and blew hard, expelling a glob of mucus into the sand. A callous sea man with sunken eyes in his late thirties, Henry knew Edward had been Amon’s loyal assistant for ten years. His large build and gruff, commanding voice had made Henry keep his distance from him.

“Mr. Raeburn, to us! Found something of interest!” shouted Mr. Porter.

“On my way!” replied Henry. As he approached, a foul stench flared Henry’s nostrils. He made his way towards the edge of the forest, where Mr. Porter squatted over a dark mound. As he drew closer, the smell intensified, and he covered his face with his pocket-handkerchief to prevent the vile odor from reaching his nose. The object was now in focus; however, by moving closer, Henry could not resolve what they were looking at.

At first glance, he had thought it was the remains of a local seabird; indeed, the body had dark feathers, and its size matched that of a pelican, yet phenotypes were present that denied this classification. A beak matched that of the local fauna, yet small dagger-like teeth lined the bill. Henry didn’t know of any birds that had teeth. The front limbs, which should have been wings, were still lined with feathers, although three sharp curled claws protruded at the tips. Patches of skin were present on the body, and the feathers had fallen away to reveal dark green scales that were reptilian. Most peculiar was the one remaining foot on the body. The other, Henry hypothesized, may have been carried away by some scavengers; based on the state of decomposition, the body had been there for at least a week, by his estimates. The second raised digit of the foot appeared highly modified, a fusion of metatarsals, creating what appeared to be one large sickle-shaped toe claw. Henry was astounded. Had they discovered two brand-new species only minutes from heading onto the shore?

“What do you suppose it is, Mr. Raeburn?” Mr. Porter asked.

“It is remarkable. A new species, some sort of reptile-like bird. Notice the large claws and teeth. This is an incredible specimen. Here, Mr. Porter, help hold my bag; I must collect this specimen presently.” Henry replied. The two men hunched down and began to carefully place the body into Henry’s pack. The rest of the men made their way over to see the strange sight.

“Amaruq, have you seen anything like this before?” Henry asked.

“No. I can’t say I have. Those claws look sharp. We shouldn’t linger. We must get back to the ship before nightfall,” Amaruq said as he continued towards the tree line.

“Very compelling find, Mr. Porter. Once Mr. Raeburn has his subject, let’s make our way through the woods toward that mountain. I have a feeling we may encounter a stream to pan from.” Amon said to the gathered crew.

The group snaked between the large spruce and pine trees soaked in a bitter fog. Eventually, a small game trail led the group toward the mountain. The tops of the trees were hazy, obscure ink blots of foliage. Their shapes were continuously blurred by the ocean breeze that blew in from the south, a constant Rorschach test in the canopy above them. Yet, as the men traversed the forest floor, they felt a gulf of emptiness. No sounds of birds, insects, or small mammals could be heard. Nothing but the sound of footsteps on the soft, wet, mossy carpets, which made a gentle squelching sound with each footprint. Occasionally, a pale white paper birch tree trunk would appear like a slender ghost bearing witness to the party’s movements through the sea of spruce.

The discovery of the unknown remains had made all but one man uneasy. Henry was staring at the ground as he walked, focused more on the excitement of the work ahead. The thought of describing not one but two new species to science was invigorating. He wondered if the feathers on the creature served a different purpose than those of flighted birds. Perhaps this organism used its feathers more for warmth, like the hair on his head, than for flight. Henry was alone in his enthusiasm; Isaac had taken the corpse as a bad omen.

The visions in his troublesome dream still haunted Isaac; he wanted nothing but to return to the ship. As they trudged through the dark forest, he had the distinct feeling the group was being watched, stalked from afar. He quickly turned his head, looking for the cause of this sensation, but his fears were met with only silence on all sides. 

    An hour into their trek, when the group came upon a clearing in the forest, they paused to appreciate the view of the great mountain. More of it was visible now, yet the cap was still enclosed by a sheath of murk. Directly ahead, just above the treeline, Isaac could see a large cascading waterfall, the last of the summer ice melting from the glacier and making its way to the sea.

 “We are not far. We should hear running water soon. The river is bound to be but a few miles up ahead,” Amaruq said as he surveyed the land ahead.

“Great work, guiding us Amaruq. Marshal’t the way, shouldn’t be long now and we are bound to finish our survey and return to the ship ere dark,” Amon replied while continuing at his usual slow but steady pace.

As the group moved through the open meadow, Isaac had that feeling again, eyes transfixed on the group, this time originating behind him. He could perceive a powerful blood lust emanating from behind them that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He feared turning around, yet in an instant, he swiveled to catch a glimpse behind them. Issac froze. At the very edge of his range of view. A dark shadow looked to be trailing them. Its bulky shape stopped as it was spotted. One flicker of fuchsia light ignited forth from the entity, which turned Isaac and sent him sprinting up to Amaruq.

“I…I saw something behind us!” Isaac stammered. Now, in the middle of the meadow, the group turned back. There was a long pause as Amaruq looked, scanning for danger. To Isaac, the tense moment lasted an eternity until the silence was broken with words.

“I don’t see anything, Mr. Lawrence. Are you sure you saw something? May you describe it to us?” Amaruq asked as he turned to continue pressing forward.

“Well, ‘twere large, I saw it back on the same trail we were on, just about a mile back in the woods,” Isaac mumbled, his head tilted down, questioning what he saw. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a reassuring voice.

            “Grammercy, for the notice Isaac. I know this trip has been long. We have almost completed our duties, and I know some rest will help ease your troubled mind. Keep vigilant; we are almost done,” Amon said, dispelling some of Isaac’s fears as he nodded.

 “Captain, look! Thirteen, no, fifteen rocks mark a border near the trees. What do you suppose they are?” Mr. William asked, looking back at the captain for guidance.

 “Those are Inuksuk,” Amaruq swiftly replied. “My people use these piles of stone as navigational markers. Let’s get a closer look at their arrangement. I may be able to say to their intent.” Amaruq walked over to one of the stone piles. Henry watched; his curiosity piqued. After a few moments, he moved to get a closer look at these strange stone features. Two vertical pillar rocks held the small structures up, with two more resting horizontally, like a miniature Stonehenge. As Henry drew closer, he noticed the shock on Amaruq’s face. He watched his eyes dart around the carvings and pictographs on the stone slabs.

 “We should turn back. I am unfamiliar with these carvings,” Amaruq said. “My best guess is that they are a warning to those who seek to climb the mountain that an offering needs to be made to proceed.”

Henry had to get a closer look. These Inuksuk were far too interesting. He could see bizarre markings and symbols carved into the tops of each slab of stone. More disturbing were the pictographs in the center of the top stones. A large triangle contained a figure with a star head. The center of this figure’s face was etched round and smooth, with rock layers carefully removed to form a slight concavity. The figure appeared ominous and large; its body posture dominated. Its hands extended out of the triangle as if grasping for something precious. Below the figure’s fingertips, several odd human-like figures knelt or assumed a praying position beneath the triangle. Some of these worshiping figures appeared to have hair covering their bodies or strange mutations. Many of the vaguely human shapes appeared to have heads or claws like animals. The central figure held its head down, raising an infant up towards the entity’s open hands. To Henry, it looked like a foul pagan offering to those who would go beyond these ancient markers.

“Turn a blind eye to this nonsense. We press forward. We’re bound to hit running water soon. The evidence is right in front of us. I appreciate the caution, yet we are almost to our goal,” the captain rebuked.

“Come on, Amaruq, don’t let a few scratches on some stones frighten you. You know what, I’ll offer up this Bob Tail if things get dicey!” Mr. Jones jested, firmly grabbing Amaruq on the shoulder while pointing and snickering at Mr. Miller. The rest of the crew laughed.

“What did you say?” Miller shouts.

“Enough. Keep moving; we risk running out of light at this pace,” the captain interrupted.

An hour’s hike through the woodland and up an elevation, Isaac could see a mercurial gleam meandering down the slope. The sky had cracked open, filtering fresh sun through a gap in the clouds down onto the group’s newly discovered prize, the stream they had been searching for. The men spent some time setting up a small area near the bank of the stream to prepare some lunch. Mr. Hull had collected firewood and started a small fire as the others had put their bags down to fill their canteens with crisp glacier melt. Mr. Porter and Mr. Jones had moved downstream to prepare a simple fishing line to procure lunch for the crew and escape the other duties. Some of the crew got out their pans and began to wade into the shallow waters to sift for gold. The captain and Henry discussed their notes about the landscape and surroundings.

 Isaac gazed at his pan. Once he halted his hands’ motion, the multicolored slop of dirt and stones settled at the bottom. Then the water calmed, and his reflection stared blankly back at him. His disheveled look was appalling. He finally noticed his cravat necktie had been tied poorly, his face was puffy, and his eyes reflected a deep, searing pain. As he stared at himself, a tear started forming in his left eye. He hated himself. Death would be a welcomed mercy from this misery. As he let the tear roll down his cheek, he noticed a twinkling flash. His eyes widened, and he plunged his fingers into the cold water; his index finger and thumb pinched a small, peculiar stone. As he raised it towards his face for closer inspection, the shine returned. It was what they were looking for: gold. His sadness evaporated, replaced by a rush of elation from the discovery.

“Captain! I think I have found something of interest!” Issac shouted at the bank, wiping his tears away and contracting his face into a simple smile.

“Join back, bring it here so Mr. Raeburn can have a look,” Amon replied.

 The group was electrified. This was the only time they had found gold while charting the Alaskan coast, and this inspired the rest of the men to begin sieving. Within twenty minutes, the group had found half a pan full of gold.

Even Henry had decided to try his luck. Along with a piece of gold, Henry had noticed several large pieces of dark, brittle metal, some with silver-pink hues and an iridescent shimmer. At first, he believed it to be lead; however, the brittle nature and yellow-to-blue color variants made him suspect he had found something else. Henry recalled reading one of French chemist Claude Geoffroy’s geological studies describing a distinct metal different from lead or tin. He could not remember the name but separated some of the mineral in a vial for later study.

“Why haven’t Mr. Jones or Mr. Porter returned yet?” Amaruq’s words disrupted the jubilant atmosphere. The sunlight faded as more clouds rolled in, matching the foreboding feeling arising in the crew.

Amon took command, “Gather the things. Let’s hurry downstream to locate ‘em.”

The group quickly doused the fire and packed up their belongings. It was late afternoon; bitter raindrops began to coalesce and fall as the men moved downriver, a toxic deluge in the making.

Isaac dreaded what they might find. The shapeless predator that he had perceived seemed to be just out of their sight on all sides.

    Amaruq raised his hand, and the group stopped cold. He bent down, pointing to two sets of tracks that moved away from the muddy bank and up into the forest. The men crept, some clutching their rifles or axes tight as they followed the tracks. Near a birch tree, there were signs of a struggle. Three crimson blood streaks were painted on the trunk. The mud looked as if it were tilled underneath the tree. An extensive trail of blood led off into the brush. Four massive ursine tracks were visible on either side of the gore.

“Large bear. Be wary,” Amaruq whispered.

As they pushed through the heavy undergrowth, they came upon the carcass of Mr. Jones lying near a stump. Isaac gasped; he could see that Mr. Jone’s head had mostly been removed, held on to the neck by a slender margin. His torso was split, and his organs had been pulled out and feasted on. To Isaac, what remained of Mr. Jone’s intestine resembled dancing worms emerging from the muck after a heavy rain, seeking refuge in the warm cavity of a recently dead cadaver. Mr. Porter was nowhere to be found.

Mr. Hull stopped dead in his tracks. Isaac immediately noticed the terrified look in his eyes. Slowly, Isaac turned and looked out into the forest. A faint scarlet face hid amidst the foliage, staring right at Mr. Hull. Isaac was speechless, he couldn’t find the words to warn the group as the face reared up to over ten feet in the air. Far larger than any bear known. A pink glisten erupted from its eyes. The word found him: “MONSTER!”

Isaac watched in shock as the creature’s claw eviscerated Mr. Hull in an instant. There was no time for a scream; Mr. Hull’s throat was already locked in the beast’s jaws.

 Terror immobilized Isaac. His demon was real.

“Fire!” screamed Amon. A puff of white smoke filled the air, followed by the sharp crack of the blast. Amaruq had fired a shot. The creature dropped Mr. Hull’s body and lunged towards Amaruq. The group was split. Amaruq, Henry, and Mr. Miller were at the front, with Caption Amon, Isaac, and Mr. Talbot near the rear. As Amaruq was being mauled, Mr. Talbot slung the captain over his shoulder and pulled Isaac by his collar, spurring them to run back towards the river. Meanwhile, Mr. Miller and Henry took off west, directly towards the boat through the forest. They could hear the screams and crunching of bone as Amaruq was devoured.

Mr. Miller and Henry ran as fast as their legs could carry them. A minute into their sprint, Mr. Miller heard a thud. He turned to see Henry face down in leaf litter. As he moved to help Henry up, Henry let out a sharp cry as he turned over. His femur was sticking out of his left leg, a compound fracture. Blood gushed from the wound. Mr. Miller stood there for a second in cold contemplation.

“Sorry, Mate.” Miller turned and continued running down the trail.

Henry’s pain was excruciating. He tried to pull himself to a tree to stand, but twigs breaking behind him caught his attention. He spun his head to see the beast thirty feet away. Its limbs were unusually long. He flipped back around on his belly and started to crawl, each movement more painful than the last.

“Come back!” he cried out to Mr. Miller, his hand outstretched.

Nothing but the grunts and snorts of the beast could be heard as it drew closer to its wounded prey. He turned back to glimpse the creature once more. Now, it was only a few feet away. Its eyes emitted a strange purplish-pink glow. Patches of fur were missing, and strange bulbous growths were piled up in these fleshy places. The bear’s snout appeared much shorter than any other Henry was familiar with. As it opened its hideous mouth, a four-pronged tongue emerged and bloomed like a revolting flower to reveal a hidden inner mouth filled with tiny teeth.  His time short, he thought of his swan, the beautiful Abigail. How he wished he could return and be in her arms once more. His regret weighed on him more in those final moments than the pressure applied by the beast. His dreams, his interests, and his love, were gone.

[End of Chapter One]