Page 5 of Primal Snow

I catch a fragment of the cashier’s response. “There are some local legends, you know, about—”

Her words are cut off abruptly when the manager appears, his scowl so deep it looks permanent.

“Go on a break, I got this,” he says, his voice flat, without a hint of courtesy. It’s not a request, but an order.

The tourists try to press him, asking more questions, but the man doesn’t budge. His face is stone, like he’s carved from the same cold, silent mountain that looms just outside. He doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, his gray eyes narrowing slightly, as though daring them to speak again.

Maybe he’s the store owner. Either way, I bet he doesn’t need any silly, old stories to unsettle his customers.

But I’m already unsettled.

And I don’t find it silly at all.

“Did you know about this?” I ask in a whisper, leaning closer to Vicky.

The man’s head suddenly snaps toward us. A strange, crawly sensation runs up my spine, and my breath catches in my throat as our eyes lock. There's something dark behind his gaze, something… knowing. Like he’s seen things, too. The kind of things that shouldn’t be spoken of. Things that shouldn’t be remembered.

My body goes cold, and I push myself past the line, feeling too claustrophobic.

I linger by the store window, staring out at the snow-covered empty street as I wait for others to check out. Everything seems off. The town is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re being spied on.

Chapter 3

Back in the car again, the vibe is wild and chaotic. Vicky and Jay pop open beers in the back seat—we might all be over 21, but apparently, open container laws don’t exist anymore in their world—while Mia and Derek argue about who the hell knows what now. Following the GPS, Chase keeps his eyes focused ahead, humming along to the radio, as I sit in the passenger seat, trying to ignore the nagging unease creeping up my spine.

When he turns off the main road onto a narrower, pitch-black route lined with trees on each side, the headlights cut through the darkness, illuminatingthe thick forest surrounding us. The woods feel oppressively close, closer than they should be, their shadows pressing in, as if the trees themselves are leaning toward us.

“Hey, babe, you okay?” Chase asks, glancing over at me.

“Yeah,” I say, though my voice is thin. I can’t stop staring out the window. The fresh snow just begins to fall and the forest feels alive. Observing.

The road curves, and Chase slows down. The snow is thicker here, the tires crunching over it like crushed glass. The pine trees seem to close in on us in full force, blocking out the moonlight. My breath fogs the window, and I wipe it with my sleeve, peering out into the eerie stillness.

That’s when I see it.

A moose. Huge and hulking, its large antlers stretching wide, standing dead center in the middle of the road like it’s made of stone. The animal doesn’t even flinch, its dark eyes reflecting the headlights like black mirrors. Its breath steams in the frigid air, a ghostly mist curling into the night.

“Fuck!” Chase yells, slamming on the brakes. He loses control over the wheel as the car skids and the tires whine against the ice.

I clutch the dashboard, my heart hammering in my chest. For a moment, everything slows—time distorting, stretching like taffy. We are gliding right toward the moose as it braces itself with its head low and antlers out.

Yet, at the same time, a shadow appears. Massive. Much bigger than the moose. It moves with impossiblespeed, a blur of white and grey against the snow. Or maybe it’s just the snow? My brain can’t process what I’m seeing. It’s too fast, too unreal. The moose bellows—a deep, guttural sound that sends a shiver down my spine—but the sound cuts off abruptly.

The shadow engulfs it.

Gone.

The moose vanishes into the night as if it were never there, dragged into the forest by something that shouldn’t exist. A faint, bone-chilling crack echoes through the trees, followed by silence so complete it rings in my ears.

The SUV finally shudders to a stop, drifting sideways.

“Shit. Is everyone okay?” Chase asks, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

They all sound from the back, but I can’t seem to find my voice. I blink, rubbing my eyes, trying to make sense of what I just saw. Maybe I’m still in shock. Maybe I’m seeing things.

”Babe?”

I only gasp. My fingers dig into the dashboard as I twist in my seat, searching the darkness. I crane my neck to look out the window, expecting to see… what? Blood? Bones?

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