"Woo-hoo!"
A young man tore past his companions, leaving them in a cloud of powdered snow as they struggled to keep pace on their skis. His movements were a masterclass in agility, a seamless series of high-speed carves and elegant weight shifts. He wove through the crowded slopes like a winter gale, maintaining a breakneck velocity that left other skiers breathless. Some watched in awe, others in shock, as his exuberant shouts of joy echoed up the mountain toward the friends trailing far behind. He was lost in the pure, kinetic ecstasy of the run, and before he knew it, he had already reached the foot of the mountain.
One by one, his friends managed to ski down to the base, finding him waiting with a triumphant grin. One of them clicked out of his bindings and pulled off his goggles, panting heavily.
"Raito... how the hell do you ski like that, man?"
Raito let out a short, melodic laugh. "I honestly don't know. Talent, maybe? Or maybe you guys just need more time on the slopes."
His friends exchanged knowing, thin smiles. They were used to his effortless confidence. Despite the biting cold, a palpable warmth radiated from their small circle, three men and two women bound by years of friendship. They leaned on their ski poles and gathered to catch their breath, their conversation drifting toward the heavy, inevitable question, "what comes after graduation?"
In the middle of the chatter, a sharp, sudden cramp gripped Raito's stomach. Doubling over slightly, he groaned to his friends, "Hey guys... nature is calling. Loudly. I've got to hit the restroom."
His friends met his announcement with deadpan expressions. It wasn't disappointment, it was the silent collective thought of, "why did you feel the need to broadcast that? Just go."
Minutes bled into a short break. After finishing his business, Raito checked his phone to find a text from the group. They had headed back up the lift, but one of them, a woman named Alia, had stayed behind to wait for him.
Raito hurried toward their original meeting spot, his ski boots clunking against the hard-packed snow. But as he approached, his pace slowed. Alia was surrounded by a group of strangers who were closing in on her. Normally, Raito wouldn't have worried, he knew Alia was tough. But when he saw the flicker of genuine fear crossing her face, his blood turned to ice. He sprinted forward, cutting through the strangers, and grabbed Alia's hand, pulling her away without sparing the men a second glance.
As they rode the ski lift back toward the summit, Raito noticed the lingering shadow of fear on Alia's features. He remained silent, sensing she needed the quiet to reclaim her composure.
Halfway to the top, Alia finally broke the silence. "Raito... thank you."
"Don't mention it," he replied softly.
The silence returned, heavy and contemplative. But as they neared the summit, the atmosphere changed. Instead of the usual festive chatter of skiers, a roar of panic met them. Crowds were swarming in confusion, some people were weeping, their faces masks of sheer terror.
The moment they reached the top and stepped off the lift, their friends rushed to meet them. Raito demanded to know what had happened.
"An avalanche," one of them managed to choke out. "The snow gave way... people are buried, injured further down."
Rescue teams were on their way, and the crowd was urged to wait. But Raito felt a primal, instinctive gnawing in his gut. Without a word of warning, he pointed his skis downhill and threw himself back onto the slope, racing into the disaster zone to find survivors.
His friends cried out in worry, yet they weren't entirely surprised, this was simply Raito. Inspired by his resolve, the other men in the group followed, telling the women to stay safe at the summit. Their bravery acted as a catalyst, prompting other capable skiers to join the makeshift rescue effort.
Time became a blur of white and red. Many of the missing were found, some with minor scrapes, others unconscious from the brutal impact of the snow. Most of the volunteers eventually retreated as the official rescue teams took over, but Raito refused to stop. He pushed further into the debris, his voice hoarse from calling out into the freezing wind.
Then, he heard it. A faint, fragile sound rising from a ravine below. A sob of pure, unadulterated terror.
Raito skied toward the source of the sound, his breath catching as he came upon a woman collapsed in the crimson stained snow. The sight was stomach turning, the blunt force of the avalanche, or something far more precise, had completely severed her leg. He knelt beside her, his hands hovering as he tried to find a way to stop the bleeding, but the woman's reaction froze the blood in his own veins.
Her sobbing didn't just fade, it vanished into a vacuum of pure, paralyzed terror. Her pupils dilated until her eyes were nothing but twin pits of blackness. Her entire body began to vibrate with a violent, rhythmic shudder.
"Ma'am... look at me, stay with me..." Raito began, his voice trembling.
Before he could finish, the woman raised a hand that shook so violently her bones seemed to rattle. She pointed a jagged finger behind him. Raito turned, and in that instant, the world he knew, a world of physics and logic, shattered into a thousand pieces.
Lurking at the edge of the treeline was a nightmare that defied nature. It stood with the hulking, barrel-chested frame of a massive gorilla, but its proportions were warped, its arms too long, ending in obsidian claws that looked like blackened surgical steel. Its fur wasn't just white, it was the color of a fresh corpse, matted with frozen ichor and tangled with pine needles.
But it was the face that stole the air from Raito's lungs. It wasn't an animal's face. It was a mask of infernal, human like malice, leathery skin stretched tight over a skull that shouldn't exist. Its eyes weren't the instinctive eyes of a predator, they were intelligent, burning with a prehistoric hunger and a sickening sense of amusement. Two rows of jagged, yellowed teeth were bared in a silent snarl, and as it breathed, a thick, foul-smelling steam rolled out of its nostrils, smelling of old graves and copper.
It didn't attack. It simply watched, its head tilted at an unnatural angle, as if it were studying the exact way Raito's hope was dying.
Raito's survival instincts finally screamed over the static of his shock. He hoisted the dying woman into his arms, his muscles screaming under the weight as he roared for the rescue teams. He didn't dare turn his back, he backed away slowly, his skis sliding clumsily through the debris, never letting those demonic eyes out of his sight.
Just as the flashlights of the rescue team cut through, the creature let out a low, huffing sound almost like a chuckle. It turned with a speed that mocked its massive size and melted back into the shadows of the pines, leaving nothing behind but the suffocating scent of death and the cold, mocking silence of the forest.