Winter hit the ground hard, a choked sound escaping him as the thing latched onto his chest.
Zara's knife was in her hand. "Winter!"
The creature—if it could even be called that—was a mess of twisted limbs, its skin stretched taut over sinewy muscles. Its head, if it had one, was obscured by a mass of writhing tendrils, moving like feelers as if searching for something.
Winter barely managed to get his rifle between them, using it to hold the creature back as its clawed fingers raked at his vest, inches from his throat.
"Get the fuck off me!" he snarled, muscles straining.
The thing was fast, unnaturally so. It moved with jerky, twitching motions, its bony limbs snapping into place like a puppet on strings. Its mouth—too wide, filled with jagged, uneven teeth—gaped open, wheezing.
Zara lunged, aiming for its side, but the creature moved too fast. It jerked unnaturally, twisting around without even getting off Winter, its tendrils twitching as if sensing her presence.
