Eli was a capable hunter, if a little cocky. Sure, he’d suffered a few scars here and there, but no monster caused him too much grief. At least until he lost his arm to one. It was… humbling, to put it one way. He saw what overconfidence brought with his great-uncle, Ezekiel. Learning to hunt with such few lessons was tough, and he didn’t want to burden the next hunter with the same fate, so he began to take a more careful approach. His day job was an electrician, and he'd collected all sorts of odds and ends from the job over the years. Couple that with him no longer being able to use his rifle, he switched to trap-making.

The loss of his arm affected more than his hunting style though. His relationship with his son took a dive. The two weren't particularly close to begin with. His son was never really invested in their family history. Being tied to such a dead-end town, and the dangers of it never really appealed. Eli never wanted his son to hunt, he just wanted him to understand why he hunted. But no reason Eli could give would convince his son that it's worth the risks. Eli got no sympathy for his lost limb, and it was pretty much the end of any meaningful communication with his son.

He wasn’t cut out completely though. He was still allowed to see the grandkids as long as he promised to stay quiet about the hunting. His grandson took after his own son, clearly had no interest in any of it. But his granddaughter, Ezzie, was a different story. She was curious and always had an interest in the weirdness of the town. She’d like listening to his hunting stories and it became clear to them both that Ezzie would be the next to take the mantle.