Page 2 of Rescued By the Surly Sasquatch

She turned back to the truck, eyeing her leaning tower of possessions with the enthusiasm of someone facing a root canal. The thought of unloading it all made her want to curl up in the fetal position and whimper. Instead, she grabbed only theessentials—a suitcase of clothes, toiletries, and the sacred box containing her coffee maker. Priorities.

"Sorry, rest of my life." Betsy patted the truck. "You're gonna have to wait till tomorrow. Mama needs her beauty sleep."

One good thing about being this far in the woods was that she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone jacking her truck or making off with her possessions.

As she trudged up the porch steps, each creak of old wood sounded suspiciously like "turn baaaack." Betsy fumbled with the key, half-expecting the lock to be rusted shut. But with a click that echoed in the stillness, the door swung open.

The cabin's interior greeted her with a sneeze-inducing cloud of dust and a smell that was equal parts lavender and mint. Betsy flicked on the lights, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity watched over rural electricity.

"Home sweet... oh my god, is that a spider web or did someone gift wrap the ceiling?"

After a whirlwind tour that involved more sneezing than a pollen factory and a brief standoff with a particularly bold dust bunny, Betsy collapsed onto the old couch.

"Note to self," she wheezed, "buy stock in antihistamines."

Her stomach chose that moment to remind her that gas station burritos did not constitute a balanced diet. Going back out to rummage through her 'Kitchen Crap' box yielded a culinary goldmine: one packet of instant noodles and a banana that was a few hours shy of becoming a banana bread ingredient.

"Behold," Betsy announced to the empty room, holding up her gourmet findings. "The feast of champions!"

As she heated up water on the ancient stove (which, miraculously, didn't explode), Betsy wandered out onto the porch. The forest night was alive with sound—crickets chirping, leaves rustling, and was that a wolf howl or just her imagination working overtime?

The trees swayed gently, their leaves whispering secrets to each other. Fireflies danced in the clearing, nature's own light show. It was beautiful, magical, and utterly terrifying.

Because as Betsy stood there, stuffing the almost liquid banana in her mouth, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Her eyes scanned the tree line, half-expecting to see a pair of glowing eyes or a suspiciously human-shaped shadow.

"Get a grip," she muttered, licking her fingers. "The only monster here is your overactive imagination. And possibly whatever's growing in the back of the fridge."

After her gourmet dinner (eaten straight from the pot because dishes were for people who hadn't just driven across the state), Betsy decided to call it a night. She double-checked the locks with the paranoia of someone who'd watched one too many horror movies, before heading to the bedroom.

As she changed into her pajamas—an oversized t-shirt proudly declaring "Herb Your Enthusiasm"—Betsy caught sight of herself in the old mirror above the dresser. Her reflection stared back, a mix of excitement and "oh god, what have I done" clear in her green eyes.

"Well," she said to her mirror image, "you wanted a total life overhaul. You don’t do things half assed, do you?"

With a yawn that nearly unhinged her jaw, Betsy crawled into bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. The unfamiliar creaks and groans of the cabin, combined with the forest's nocturnal symphony, should have kept her awake. But exhaustion won out, and within minutes, she was fast asleep.

CHASE

Chase's nostrils flared, drinking in the rich tapestry of scents that only he could truly appreciate. Loam and lichen, the musty funk of decaying leaves, the sharp tang of pine sap—each aroma told a story, painting a picture more vivid than any human eye could perceive. This was his domain, a realm he'd guarded for more years than he cared to count.

His massive feet, each easily the size of a dinner plate, moved with a silence that belied his bulk. Twigs and leaves bent gently beneath his weight, then sprang back as if never touched. Chase didn't consciously try to move quietly anymore; it was as natural to him as breathing. Necessary. For in silence lay safety, and in safety lay the preservation of all he held dear.

As Chase navigated the deepening twilight, his mind churned with the weighty thoughts that had become his constant companions. The forest was changing. He could sense it in the whisper of wind through leaves, in the subtle shift of animal movements, in the very air itself. Something was coming. Or perhaps it was already here, an insidious threat creeping in while his back was turned.

His path led him to the edge of a small clearing, and Chase's perpetual scowl deepened. There, like a splinter in the forest's flesh, stood Francine's cabin. The sight of it sent a pang through his chest, a feeling he ruthlessly suppressed. Sentimentality was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not when the very balance of his world hung by a thread.

Francine had been... different. In all his long years, she alone had seen him not as a monster or a myth, but as a fellow guardian. She'd understood the delicate balance of the forest, the whisper of magic that flowed through every root and branch. Her passing left a void that echoed through the woods like a silent scream.

Chase placed a massive hand against the rough bark of a nearby oak, feeling the slow pulse of life beneath his palm. Thiswas why he endured. Why he remained apart, isolated from his own kind and the world of humans. The forest needed him, now more than ever.

His gaze hardened as it fell upon the cabin once more. With Francine gone, the time had come to reclaim this space for the forest. To erase this last vestige of human encroachment and allow nature to heal the scar.

Chase took a step forward, muscles tensing in anticipation of the task ahead. In his mind's eye, he could already see the cabin reduced to splinters, vegetation rapidly overtaking the cleared ground.

The sudden roar of an engine shattered the twilight calm like a thunderbolt.

Chase recoiled, instinctively melding with the shadows as a battered truck lurched into view. Disbelief and anger warred within him as a small, human woman tumbled out of the vehicle.

All his careful plans to keep the forest pristine from the modern world, the delicate balance he'd maintained for so long, was threatened by the intruder’s arrival. Fury rose in him like a tidal wave, held in check only by centuries of hard-learned control.

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