Late December.
Elias sits on the porch, the charred box from Tanner's shed open beside him. It's been six days since the coyote hunt sharpened him, his fingers trace the letters quick and steady now, his ears catching the wind's low hum before it fully rises.
The papers are yellowed, singed and scrawled with "Hank—sell or it's over. R.T." and it feels heavy in his lap, Grayson's name a thread he's tugging and the ridge's shed still fresh in his mind.
Last night, the creek groaned louder, the lights in the house flickered longer than usual, and Elias is sure of it now; Hank is waking up angrier than ever.
Inside, Daniel is by the hearth loading salt rounds into his shotgun, the soft clink of metal mingling with the crackling fire.
Mara sits at the table nearby, rifle propped beside her, stitching a tear in her coat with quick, practiced movements.
Elias steps inside, his boots light against the wooden floor, almost quieter than they were the week before. He sets the box down with deliberate care, his voice low but firm.
"Grayson's stirring," Elias says, his gaze flicking to the flames. "The creek's loud again. These letters... they're pulling him in."
Mara glances up, the needle pausing in her hand as she considers his words. Her voice is dry but sharp. "Loud how? Same groan, or sharper?"
Elias nods, his fingers trembling slightly as they trace the edges of the paper. "Sharper. I heard a whisper too over by the ruins... like 'Tanner'... it was faint, but it was there."
Daniel slams the shotgun shut with a metallic snap, then leans back against the chair, his voice rough. "Whisper's new. Means he's talking back to you now. And the box is bait, then."
Elias's gaze sharpens, his senses kicking into overdrive as the wind shifts outside. His tone stays steady. "Yeah. I think we take it to the creek, see if he bites. Salt him in tight this time."
Mara's fingers work the needle through her coat with precision, her voice low but steady. "Creek's his ground. It's smart to use it. How are you setting it up?"
Elias leans against the table, his mind already in motion, thinking through the plan. His eyes flicker toward the window, his thoughts following the path of the hunt from the shed to the creek. His voice is sure as he speaks. "We put the box in the open, circle it wide with salt, then wait him out. He's angry enough now so, he'll show."
Daniel grunts as he stands, grabbing his shotgun and slinging it over his shoulder, his voice gruff but with a hint of warmth. "Clean. It keeps us clear if he tries to make a run for it. Don't forget the iron."
Mara ties off the last stitch, grabbing her rifle and slinging it over her shoulder, her tone firm. "That works. Let's move before he gets louder."
The night has already deepened by the time they head out. The cold bites at their faces, the wind sharp as they walk toward the creek. Elias leads the way, the box under his arm and the salt bag slung over his shoulder.
Daniel has a pouch of iron scraps hanging from his waist, while Mara holds her rifle steady, her eyes scanning the horizon. The air grows colder as they approach the ruins, the ice on the creek glinting in the dim light. Elias sets the box down at the center of a flat stretch, his hands quick and precise as he pours the salt in a wide, unbroken ring. The salt hisses faintly as it hits the cold earth, glowing faintly in the darkness.
The wind shifts again, a soft whisper curling through the trees. "Tanner..." The word hangs in the air, and Elias feels a chill slide down his spine. A flicker catches his eye, tall and thin, a figure with a low-brimmed hat, its claws curling sharp as it moves across the ice.
Elias steps back with his shotgun raised, his voice low but firm. "He's here. The box... it got him."
Daniel's eyes narrow, and he quickly scatters the iron scraps inside the salt ring, his voice tight. "Moves fast; watch the edges."
The shadow lunges suddenly, claws raking the air, but the salt flares white, holding it back. The iron glints as it slows the figure's movements, and a long angry wail fills the air, raw and guttural.
Mara tilts her head slightly, her rifle steady as she scans the figure. "He's pinned. Listen to that. What's he want?"
Elias squints at the shadow, the whisper spiking, "Tanner… mine." His ears catch the words more clearly now, and his tone is low, thoughtful. "Justice. He's tied to Tanner's blood. These letters say Tanner wouldn't sell. Maybe he was killed for it."
Daniel grunts, his grip tightening on the shotgun. "That fits. It's a grudge then. The land's his anchor. The box stays in place for now... we burn it later?"
Elias shakes his head, his gaze locked on the shadow as it paces inside the salt ring. His voice is firm, unwavering. "Not yet. We need him to show us more. Let's just watch tonight."
The figure flickers again, claws scraping across the ice and the wail softening into a rasp. The cold sinks deeper into their bones but they don't move. Elias's breath fogs in the air, his eyes never leaving the figure.
Mara lowers her rifle slightly, her voice warm but edged. "Holding steady. Your nose caught him again."
Daniel slings his shotgun over his shoulder, his voice rough but approving. "Damn right. Patience works. He's talking now, so keep listening."
They turn and head back toward the farmstead, the warmth of the house a welcome relief against the bitter cold. The creek remains quiet behind them and the box heavy in Elias's pack.