Fear in the night

Meathook has time to see the guards he set around his campfire drop to the sand, dead. Then the bullet takes him in the knee.
It’s her!
Falling, he reaches for his gun with his good hand. Another bullet turns it to bloody pulp.
She’s out there!
First one of his outposts went dark, picked clean in the silent night. Then another.
The witch!
An angry spirit from the old world, crazed and looking for meat? Superstitious crap.
Fear the night.
Bullshit, he told himself.
But as feet crunch over the blood soaked ground, he finds himself changing his mind.