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For all their beauty and deceptive calm, woods are still some of the most dangerous places on earth, yet few remember this. But even the most die hard tree hugger would not fail to agree that the forest that blankets Crystal Lake like a green shroud is wholly unwholesome, home as it is to two of the deadliest examples of the human species.
Late one night a mother and son make their way home from a lovely picnic, employing no vehicle for this, because patrolling their accomplice - the woods - is part of the fun. Exceptionally tall, on both sides of the equation, they move like mist, quiet and cold, their motion almost rolling. Man perfectly attuned to Nature.
While travelling home they don’t speak, yet they still communicate, and when a voice calls out to the right, Jason looks towards it, while his mother stares dead ahead. Both pause, then split, fading into the dark with alarming speed. Protective of each other at all other times, they nonetheless hunt separately.
However, this is also a mother tiger and her cub, so Pamela keeps a close eye on her massive boy, leading tougher prey towards him while taking out smaller specimens herself. A bad bad man thinks he can hit her special boy in the back with an axe, little realising that Jason is not alone.
“Kill them, Jason! Kill them!”
Jason obliges, swinging his great machete with savage exaltation, his eyes wide with fury, the lips under his mask pulled back into a bloodthirsty grimace. She knows, because she wears the same expression.
The sanguine dance of death continues across the woods, her son a fast runner for all his size. It makes her mother's heart swell with pride to see how accomplished her little boy is. She follows at a fast stride, her shadow flitting amongst the black trees, which aid and abate as they always have. The cabins appear between them, slices of wood and glass, shining in the light of the moon and stars. She's not paying attention to them as much as to the indicators of invasion, the running and the screaming, so when she senses movement out of the corner of her eye, she spins, teeth bared, knife held tight over her head, ready to bring down on jugulars.
“Jason! There's one-”
But the shadow in the window holds a knife over its head too.