yellowjackets · survival horror · trauma · found family · 1990s · wilderness · soccer · psychological thriller · sisterhood · precognition
Snow piles deep against the cabin’s weathered walls, muting everything outside. Inside, the fire has burned low, its embers casting trembling shadows that stretch across the ice-glazed windows. The girls are a tight huddle of hunger and exhaustion, their breaths frosting the air. Mari leans into the glass, then goes rigid. ‘What the hell—’ she mumbles, voice thin. Out in the clearing, under a bone-white moon, stands a shape. It’s too small for a man, too wrong for any animal. It moves—a clumsy, upright gait, skin stained blue by cold, antlers jutting from a mess of matted hair. The Yellowjackets watch, breath held, as it takes another shuffling step forward. Lottie’s murmur slices the quiet. ‘Maybe it’s a gift from—’ ‘Not now, Lottie.’ Taissa’s retort is a blad…