I can’t sleep. My head has been spinning for hours. I’m part of a recovery and investigation squad sent out here to an abandoned log cabin in the backwoods of Kentucky. When we originally got here, there were 13 of us. Now, we’re down to four. The dispatch team wasn’t as specific as they could’ve been when telling us about this hunt. We were informed that the organization had been keeping eye on a farm in the middle of nowhere. When we made it here, this place was clearly more of a log cabin with a field than a farm. Regardless, this place gave off the atmosphere that we were clearly not welcome.

I’m not sure if the hunt was pertaining to the farm itself or if there was something within it. Maybe there was something within the fields. Now, we’re currently cowering for our lives in the farmhouse. That monster...that thing is outside. It’s been days. Why won’t it leave us alone? It’s resilient. That much is for sure.

I remember when we first encountered the wendigo. That’s what I call it at least, although Derricks believes it to be otherwise. I’ve hunted a few wendigos in my day, but this...this thing...it’s something else. It looks like a wendigo, at first glance at least. It’s bigger than any wendigo I’ve seen though. Besides, these things aren’t supposed to be native here, right? Me and a few of the other hunters were unloading the truck on arrival. Derricks and Houston were scoping the area for any trails of what we were supposed to be looking for. That monster made its presence known immediately.

That big bastard came charging out of the cornfields like a rapid animal. I can only describe its cry as something between a bison and a man’s wail. Razor sharp claws, a boned goat-like head, and piercing red eyes was enough to make us cower in fear. Before we could even process what we were seeing, it grabbed a hold of Houston’s leg and dragged him off into the fields. Houston’s screams still echo in my mind. That’s definitely part of the reason I can’t sleep. How could you after all? Could you sleep in the not-so safety of a rickety, old barn with a huge wendigo stalking you just from outside the damn walls?

Derricks has been spending the past few days trying to get the distress call out. The others have been trying to fight it off on occasion with the little resources we were able to gather with our lives. I, on the other hand, have been to compose an idea of what this thing is and how it got here. One theory I have is that this thing was illegally exported here. Like I said, wendigos aren’t supposed to be native to this area. Another theory I have takes Derricks point into discussion. This thing looks like a wendigo on the surface, but there’s something clearly wrong with it. It’s bigger and more ruthless.

I’ve seen some fucked up shit in this career, but nothing could compare to watching your comrades be torn apart at the mercy of a beast you will never truly understand. The worst part is that at moments, I could get a good glimpse of the beast. I swear to God there is something uncanny about it. The theory is that the owner of this farm was partaking in some sort of experiments with his livestock. Somehow, things had gone bad and this beast was the result. I don’t know. My head is fuzzy.

Sometimes, late in the night, I can hear whispers from the outside. The sound of my fallen comrades calling out to me, but when I look out that window, I see it. The wendigo staring at me from the darkness of the fields. Those eyes...those piercing red eyes...staring right into my soul. I get it now. We aren’t the hunters. We never were in this case. This creature was always one step ahead. It watched us the whole time and waited to strike when we were most vulnerable. Yeah. I truly understand now. I’ve hunted a lot of wendigos in my day. This is something else. This is something greater. It’s pretty clear that we’re not getting out of here. Derricks believes that if we wait long enough, they’ll surely send more for us.

I think they’re fools. That thing knows us better than we know ourselves. I’ve always dreaded this. I was told tales of monsters under the organization’s radar that were more advanced than others. There are monsters out there that I’ve truly dreaded encountering. I never thought it would be now. We’re not getting out of here.

It has been seven days now. Martin shot himself in the head last night. Derricks tossed his body outside, hoping to appease the beast. It did nothing. It simply explored his corpse for a moment, then through it to the side. That’s just our luck, isn’t it? It wants food, but it also wants the thrill of killing us itself.

It’s nightfall again. I can hear those voices again. I can’t stand it anymore. What’s the point in being a hunter if you never truly are the hunter? You’re a hunter for so long, until you end up being the snack of something stronger. Tonight, I’ve made up my mind. If we’re gonna die here, then let’s die how the organization wants us to. I have nothing to lose anymore. Tonight, I’m gonna try to make a run for it. I’ll speak more if I make it.