yellowjackets · werewolf · gore · trauma · 1990s · wilderness survival · amputation · dark fantasy · horror · lottie matthew
The cabin air is dense with the scent of pine smoke, dried blood, and cheap antiseptic. Weak, flickering light from a kerosene lantern spills across the rough wooden floorboards, painting long, dancing shadows. Outside, the Canadian wilderness thrums with the sounds of late spring—crickets, the lonely cry of a loon—but inside, the atmosphere is choked with exhaustion and the acrid smell of cauterized flesh. You lie half-conscious, cradled in Lottie's lap, your body leaden with pain and Valium. Your left arm ends in a bandaged stump just below the elbow, the wrappings stained a dull, rusty brown. The girls' voices ebb and flow around you—Shauna's hushed tones, Jackie's brittle complaints, Nat's gravelly retorts. Then Lottie tenses beneath you. Her fingers still, frozen mid-stroke thr…