Late December. Morning. Voss farmstead.
Elias stands by the creek with a shotgun in hand. It's been four days since the coyote hunt woke something in him; his fingers grip the barrel tighter now, and his step are crisper as he scans the tracks from two days back, claw-tipped and shallow, heading north to the ridge.
The flicker and groan from Grayson's spirit still echo in his head since he messed up the salt line, and he's set on getting it right this time. He plans to scout the ridge, find whatever is holding Grayson here, and deal with it.
Daniel's in the kitchen, oiling his shotgun by the fireplace, a tin mug steaming beside him and his coat slung over a chair.
Mara's outside already, rifle slung across her back and hauling a sack of salt to the porch, her breath fogging as she spots Elias.
He adjusts his pack which holds salt rounds, matches, and a knife sheathed and calls out in a low voice but firm, "I'm heading up the ridge, the tracks point there. I'm gonna find what Grayson's stuck to."
Mara drops the sack and wipes her hands, her tone dry but steady. "Ridge is Tanner's old ground, watch the scrub, it hides more than you'd think."
Elias nods, his hands move quick—quicker than last week—as he slings the shotgun over his shoulder. "Yeah. I'm looking for a shed or bones. Something that's holding him."
Daniel steps out of the house with a shotgun in his hand, his voice rough. "Tanner built a shack up there. It's falling apart now. Check the base not just the top."
Elias tilts his head and starts walking west. Frost crunches under his boots. "Got it. If it's there, I'll mark it."
Mara follows with her rifle ready. Her voice is low. "Look first. Don't touch anything until you're sure."
The ridge is about half a mile away, full of rocks and low trees. The air gets colder as they climb. Elias leads, stepping lightly through the snow. The tracks fade near the slope, but an unnatural chill cuts through the pines. It pulls him to the left.
"Something's here," he mutters under his breath, turning in the direction of the cold. He slows his pace, his steps more deliberate as he scans the ground.
A glint of something catches his eye. Below the ridge, there's a sagging shack; wood warped, roof caved in half-hidden by frost and weeds.
Elias points toward it, his voice tight. "There. Down the slope. Smells like the creek."
Daniel squints, gripping his shotgun tighter. "Good call. The low ground hides things. What do you see moving?"
Elias crouches low, brushing snow off a plank with steady hands. He watches the shack carefully, then pauses. "Nothing yet. But there's something inside. Wait."
A shadow shifts within the shack, tall and thin, with a low hat and claws that glint faintly through the cracked window. A groan follows; a low and deep sound.
Mara kneels next to him, rifle raised. "It's Grayson. Same as before. How do you plan to handle it?"
Elias stays crouched, his eyes fixed on the shadow. His voice is low, but firm. "I'm going to circle the shack. Salt the base and keep it contained. Then I'll look for whatever's holding it there."
Daniel steps forward, his movements deliberate. "Good. But don't close in too tight. You don't want to give it room to fight back."
Elias pulls the salt bag from his pack, moving slow and methodical. He pours a wide, unbroken circle around the shed, the salt hissing against the cold frost. The shadow inside shifts and claws at the walls, but the salt line holds.
Elias takes a step forward, his hands steady as he peers through the window. Inside, he sees rusted tools, a dirt floor, and a wooden box in the corner. The lid is cracked open, and papers spill out.
"Found it," Elias says quietly while pointing. "That box; it's the anchor."
Mara nods, her rifle still steady in her hands. "Smart. But don't touch it yet. What does it tell you?"
Elias studies the shadow for a moment longer, his voice softer. "Papers. Letters, maybe. They look burned around the edges. Someone tried to destroy them."
Daniel's voice is low and controlled. "That's Tanner's work. He's trying to cover his tracks. The salt's doing its job, so now focus on the box. We don't need the ghost, just what's keeping it here."
Elias moves around the shed carefully, quickly finding a loose plank. With his knife, he pries it free, the blade slipping smoothly between the boards. He reaches in and pulls out the box. It's burned, the wood cracked and charred. He opens it, revealing yellowed papers, one of which catches his eye. The writing is messy but legible: "Hank—sell or it's over. R.T."
He holds the paper up for them to see."Threats. Tanner's initials. Grayson didn't leave because of this."
Mara steps over, lowering her rifle. Her tone is sharp but controlled."That's blood on paper. It's the reason he's still tied here. Keep it safe. Our move now."
The three of them head back toward the farm as dusk settles in. The sky darkens, and the glow from the house becomes warmer with each step.