Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep274: Episode 274: Wendigo Horror Stories

Episode Date: September 11, 2025

Use the promo code SUPERBAD for 10% off your T-shirt! https://dr-creepens-vault.creator-spring.com/listing/the-devil-is-in-the-detail Today’s opening tale of terrifying tale of horror is titled ‘The Thing from The Forest Changed My Life for The Better’, a phenomenal story by Deacon Clarke, shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and read here with the author’s express permission.  u/DeaconClarke/  Today’s next fantastical tale of winter terror is ‘In the Dead of Winter’, an original work by The Tango Bravo, again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  u/TheTangoBravo/  Our third campfire story is ''The Coldest Day'' by Krys Rudderham, told with the express permission of the author via the Creepypasta website.  http://www.creepypasta.com/the-coldest-day/  Tonight’s penultimate terrifying tale of horror is all three parts of the epic ‘Exile Tales: The Wendigo Interview’, an original story by Exile Saint 180, kindly shared directly with me via my subreddit for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all.  u/exilesaint180/  Tonight’s final mesmerizing tale of terror is ‘Wendigo Nation: Clementine's Folly ’, a wonderful story by BearLair64, once more kindly shared directly with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission:  u/BearLair64/

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Pwendigos, mythical creatures from the folklore of the indigenous peoples of North America, particularly the Alconque-speaking tribes of Canada in the United States. They're believed to be malevolent spirits or monsters that possess humans and drive them to commit acts of cannibalism, as we shall see in tonight's bizarre collection of tales. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution,

tonight's stories may contain strong language as one as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. The thing from the forest changed my life for the better. For weeks I'd fantasized of this trip, or at least since my friend Lucas invited me, my first trip away from home. I was understandably nervous, especially since this will be my first night away from the comforts of my own bed. As to be expected, my mother was.

her usual overly protective self, ensuring all my items were packed and sorting my clothes as well as some long-lasting food. You know, the same thing all mothers do. Lucas arrived driving his 80s Ford camper van, a beat-up old thing handed down from his brother. It was a surprise it even ran with the abuse it had seen over the years. Lucas pulled in the driveway around 7am. I was already waiting outside, messing with my phone. I picked up my bag and hug my mother goodbye and left for the van. Oddly I got an easy feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, almost like I'd never see her again. The feeling gradually began to build until I buckled up in the wornstained covered seats of the camper van, and the back of the van was filled with the rogue's gallery

who'd be joining us on our trip. There was Sasha, Lucas's love interest, and genuinely the closest you could ever get to evil. Jake, who was Lucas' brother, small-time junkie, and the original owner of the van. And finally Ellie, Jake's girlfriend. Personally never got invested in knowing much about her. I watched the trees go by as we drove through the country lanes, the morning sun slowly beginning to disappear behind the overhanging trees. Jake thought now would be a good time to tell the group

a little horror story about the cabin we were staying at. It was a few years ago or so, A group of teenagers went to the cabin, the same one will be staying in it. One whole week flew by, and they didn't return, so a concerned parent rang the police. For a whole month they searched, from the woods to the near mines, but with no luck. Well, until the fifth time, they found a scrap of clothing inside a cave system. While walking deeper into the cave, they found a body. This body had been stripped of its flesh, and all of all of all of the flesh.

but what was left was its muscles. Odd as still the body was missing its skull, but its head was untouched and still perfectly shaped. Many natives who lived near the woods claimed it was the great pan beast, known as a wendigo where it committed a deed. I scoff loudly and voiced my opinion. That story was a load of rubbish. I began calling out many inconsistent parts of the story and even showed a Google search with no connections to the missing people.

Jake sneered at me and nestled himself comfortably into his Ellie's bosom. His glare pointed directly at me with an unshakable malice. I couldn't help but crack a smile and turned to face the window. I placed my head softly on the window and slowly began to drift off. I awoke with a shadow. I felt as if the world was spinning around me. I sat upright and looked around trying to get my bearings. It didn't take me long to notice.

I was set outside the van, only now it was on its roof and completely wrecked. There was no sight of my friends, or any life for that matter. The very notion of being alone next to the smash wreck made me feel worse, when coupled with the disorienting feeling I had. My eyes jerked all around my surroundings. There was nothing but thick dark woods in every direction. Before I could fully take in my situation, my body began running as if it didn't want to stay next to the area of destruction i'd woken up in it

began to run deeper deeper into the woods following a winding path that seemed to materialize in front of me all around me the woods felt rife with the unseen hundreds of wild animals in a defensive-like state all focused on me the unshakable notion of being watched forced my already paranoid mind into overdrive. I over-assessed every direction. From out of the seemingly darkened woods, a cabin slowly came into view. Every single one of my instincts told me to run, but I couldn't. I jerked my head around as a roar or perhaps a cry of an animal echoed through the woods, something that was hungry and ready to kill to survive. my body once more began to move towards the cabin until i was faced with the door twin scratch marks ran parallel

up in the wood as if something had tried to get in well i didn't want to know what but but it felt like whatever it was it was hunting me i pushed open the door only to be consumed by a luminous white void I felt weightless, almost floating, into my mind began to wake. And then there was nothing but a falling sensation. I awoke from my nightmarish slumber, tugging at my belt in a panic. The sensation of falling from my dream continued well after I'd open my eyes. The van was stationary, yet my eyes continued to spin as if I was moving, leaving a sickening feeling of disorientation to wash over me,

Well, thankfully, it subsided as soon as it started. Jesus, Bobby, your lazy I slept like the whole journey. You didn't even wake up for any of the three P-breaks, or hell the 25 pizza stops. Sasha's voice dug into my sleepy brain. It was fair to say she was still her usual moaning self. No surprise, really. Lucas opened the van door and hazily everyone stepped out. Had to shield my eyes from the low sun that now took.

crept over the tree line. God, I must have been seriously out of it. And I really missed so much, I mused to myself. I grabbed my bag and began following Lucas down a cobbled path towards the woods. Well, the cabin lay just a short ways along in a modest open clearing. The whole walk I felt as if there were thousands of eyes trained on me, all hidden beneath the undergrowth, just staring, watching, observing us. We eventually reached the cabin's main door, albeit through the moans of Sasha. Lucas grinned a cheeky grin and told us, Welcome to Paradise.

As soon as he opened the door, a freezing breeze burst past us. It felt like a warning almost as if the very building was telling us to drop all our stuff and run for home. I personally neglected the feeling. and put it down to an empty cabin that had been left unused, not to mention of probably a few broken windows and holes. As everyone crammed inside, I began looking over the cabin's interior. It was old, dusty and unlived in, very similar to one in a horror movie. I stood apprehensively in the dining room

and waited for Lucas to enlighten everyone on where we'd be sleeping. Okay, Jake, you're nearly opposite the kitchen. Now, Jake, don't go eating all the food in the middle of the night. Jake sneered and caught the key that Lucas had thrown. Uh, Sasha, you're with me at the end of the hall, the master bedroom. Sasha never looked up from her phone. All right, then. Bobby, you're in the alcove above the kitchen. Just climb the ladder midway down and open the hatch.

I nodded, not really taking any notice. As everyone began to leave, Lucas made a snap decision, albeit a stupid one. Jake, pass me one of your plastic bags. Well, somewhat surprised Jake did. All right, everyone's phone's in the bag. I'm locking him in the safe. Sasha looked white and clutched her phone tightly.

You could almost feel the force she gave off. Lucas, please don't take my phone. I might need to call my mom, Sasha begged. But all that begging. was futile as Lucas placed her phone with the others into the bag and then into the safe. Lucas then continued with the rules of the cabin, but my interest lay with meeting my bed. I slowly slipped out of the dining room and headed down the hallway. The lader clung to the wall, almost invisible to the untrained eye, as it sat inside a small

indent inside the wall. I pushed open the trap door that lay open on the roof and lifted myself upwards. The room itself was nothing more than a mediumish platform that was missing a wall, allowing me to overlook the kitchen. The drop was very sudden, straight down to the floor. However, I was in prime placement for some midnight snacking, as I could reach the cabinets. I gathered some items and headed down the ladder towards the only door labelled bathroom. It looks strange having the word written over the door, but then again other cabbians could be like this.

I wouldn't know. Hocked into the shower and twisted the taps. I jumped in shock as a stream of sludge water smacked me full force in the face. Eventually, the water got warmer and cleaner, but in my panic I hadn't noticed the door had been slowly opened and just as quietly shut. Nor did I notice a large shadow looming through the shower curtain. I fell back and screamed high-pitched in horror.

then Sasha laughed uncontrollably as she raked open the curtains most people would think I'm weird if I told them I showered wearing swimming trunks but if you know the people I was with then the notion suddenly didn't seem so weird I shouted at Sasha to leave and threw a luther at her grinning Sasha left and I stepped out of the shower I looked into the mirror try not to let my mind be filled with anger I looked deep into my reflection and lost all awareness of the space around me. My face began to change or distort, you could say, but that's when I was wrenched from my gaze by something being dragged by the window.

I looked back into the mirror and for a split second I could have sworn that I saw myself as a grey figure wearing a deer skull looking back at me. I slapped my face and splashed water on me before making my way back to my room. hoping that some sleep might help me. I lay down and wrist my head on the mattress that was now my bed and relaxed my eyes. I was surprised I was actually still tired, but after my restless sleep, I had to say that nothing surprised me. I did, however, hope to have somewhat more pleasant dreams than before. This time, I was sat hunched over in the middle of the woods. A crimson moon hung low in the sky, barely illuminating the night.

naked trees. A thick, smoggy mist had engulfed the area, leaving no visibility below my ankles. Hello? Who's out there? Someone shouted, making my head twist a sharp 90 degrees. I began to run towards the voice, but I continuously stumbled. It felt like my legs were far too long from my body, and soon I found myself running on all falls. I lunged up a nearby tree and swung from branch to branch with ease, stopping only to observe my surroundings. I saw something shifting around in the undergrowth beneath me. I blink my eyes, and my vision shifted. Everything meshed in a cold but tranquil, dark blue.

Underneath me stood a shimmering orange light, holding something red. Unable to understand what I was seeing, I shut my eyes and opened them again. Now my vision switched once more, showing the woods in a dark, green. Well, it took me a few minutes to realize I was seeing in night vision. The orange light was now more definable. It was a person holding a flashlight. Hello? shouted the figure, now looking around pedantically. I began to slowly climb up a tree and use the branches to get closer and closer to the person until I hung only inches away from them. Now I was close enough to be able to identify the person.

Stood still observing the area was Jake, still dressed in the clothes he'd arrived in. I blink once more and my vision to return to normal. Slowly I dropped from the tree and straightened myself behind Jake. He was now smaller than me,

significantly in fact. Hearing a slight snap, Jake turned to face me and fell over, his voice caught in his throat. Well, I couldn't look away as I lunged at defenceless Jake on the floor. I made a series of quick slashes and then removed the organs with the perfect cuts I'd just made. Unable to control myself, I began to devour the organs, feeling stronger as I did so.

Once I'd finished, my gaze drifted over to a cabin that stood about 500 yards away, just stationed in an opening. Once more I broke out into a run on all fours, heading directly to the same. towards the cabin. I arrived in what seemed like record time. I slowly stuck my head close to one of the windows, observing what was inside. Lucas was snuggled up next to Sasha with a TV casting static over the both of them. I shook my head and slunk over to another window.

This one was Jake and Ellie's room, although it was empty. Once again I shook my head and moved to the final window that belonged to the bathroom. I peered through the window and saw Ellie laying down in an empty bath with an empty packet of bath salts in her hand. I shook my head angrily this time. I began to crawl up the cabin towards the chimney, testing to see if it was hot. Upon seeing it wasn't, I slipped down it, dropping into the dining room, making as little sound as I could. I crawled around the hall but stopped as I heard a door open. Instinctively I jumped to the ceiling and dug my nails deep into the wood to keep myself in place.

Ellie walked out from the bathroom in a towel and a noticeable bloodstream coming from her nose. I waited until she'd entered hers and Jake's room and then I silently shifted into the kitchen. I paused and looked to the alcove that I was sleeping in, climbing the counter and then the cupboards. I positioned myself to look at my sleeping body. Notting my head, I slowly made two slits onto my sleeping head, that I then licked before turning away. A crash from the kitchen woke me, and my vivid dream faded into nothingness. Rubbing my eyes, I checked my alarm clock.

Quarter past three. The noise sounded again, but this time I knew what it was. Smashing plates. Hi from my alcove, I peaked over the edge, fully expecting it to be Jake looking for a midnight snack after one of his infamous chill-out sessions. As I poked my head over the edge of the platform, I watched a figure in the darkened kitchen, sat consuming food sprawled over the floor. At that moment I was positive it was Jake, now deep into one of his munchy moments. I stayed silent and watched him for a while, thinking, this is the moment. reason drugs are bad for you.

I was just about to crawl back into bed when the fridge was opened and everything I'd thought was real took a back seat. As the light illuminated from the now empty fridge, the figure's entire being could be clearly seen. My body

froze and my heart decided to check out with my sanity. The creature at the fridge looked grotesque, with disjointed body parts, all of which were a discoloured grey. The head was what stuck out the most, though. His entire head was covered by the skull of what I assumed was an elk.

Ellie grogily walked into the kitchen, half asleep, and, well, I assumed high. She made a way to get a drink and began to walk out before looking to the now stationary figure behind the fridge door. Jake, you're coming back to bed, babe. She asked, her words slurred. I then watched in horror, as the creature opened. and its mouth, and Jake's shrivelled head began to protrude from the inside, and its reply sounded identical to what Jake's voice sounded like. Yeah, honey, I'll meet you there.

Ellie walked out of the kitchen and back to her room, still completely unaware of the differences between Jake and the creature. As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, the creature closed its mouth and shut the fridge door, straightened its body to be more human in shape. I watched as it walked to the kitchen door, but it stopped to look at where I lay, and it placed a grey finger to its lips. The creature then walked out of the kitchen, and I heard the faint click of Jake and Ellie's door go again. I crawled to the furthest corner of my room, and huddled myself tight and waited. I sat, Unmoving. My entire being was filled with unbridled fear of this creature, and thousands of questions

raced through my mind. What was it? What could it have been? What did it done to Jake? And now, to Ellie. All these feelings culminated inside me, stirring, festering. I didn't know how long I'd spent staring at both the hatch and the missing wall of my room. I hardly noticed the sun beginning to creep slightly through the underside of the kitchen window. Shaking still, I opened the hatch and descended into the hallway, the same hallway that the creature crawled across. I stood outside Jake's room and drew a deep breath slowly, twisting the door's lock. With a click, the door opened into a hazy blackness. The blackout curtains left only the light from the hall to illuminate the room.

or at least as far as the bed that was positioned cutting the room in half. Jake's head slowly peered over the near flat covers, shortly after followed by Ellie's, that snaked itself directly beneath his. Ellie spoke out as if talking to someone who stood just behind me. Shut the door, will you, dear? You're going to ruin the surprise? Well, I didn't need to be asked twice and slowly clicked the door shut. I spent the morning cleaning the kitchen quickly and quietly, desperately hoping no one would walk in.

I know I'd have to answer some unpleasant questions like what the hell was I playing at, or had I taken some of Jake's medication. Once I was finished, I sat down, exhausted from the work as Sasha slowly stumbled into the kitchen, wearing Lucas's large baseball tea. She opened the fridge and stared at it for a good few minutes, before realizing something was very wrong. In a frustrated yell, Sasha shouted, Lucas, you've stoned a brother's eating everything.

I forced to laugh at Sasha, and I ate a protein bar my mom had packed for me. I began processing what I'd seen last night in detail, the fridge, the mess, the creature, and now Jake and Ellie. Lucas strolled into the kitchen, and did his odd sitcom opening. Well, hello family, how are we this fine morning?

Right after saying this, he kissed my hair, and then Sasha before, going to prepare some toast, but was unable to find any bread. Hey, Bobby, Jake and Ellie early awake yet? I checked a few minutes ago, and they were still asleep. You guys call me lazy. I cautiously joked in my reply. Both Jake's and Elie,

Miley's voices shouted simultaneously from their room. Lucas, brother, I need you help with something. Lucas, undisturbed, walked out of the kitchen and into Jake's room. Well, after a few minutes of silence, I began to get panicked. Slowly I walked to the door and felt for the handle. Sasha, intrigued, followed me, staying only a few feet behind. Never did I break eye contact from the door all the space. beyond it. The doors locked clicked and slowly swung open. What I and Sasha saw left both our whole

body's frozen. The feelings I felt were identical to how I'd felt the previous night. In front of us stood a slender grey figure with two elk-like antlers protruding from a skull-like cranium and an almost malnourished physique. It was holding Lucas, who stared at a stared at me and Sasha. The beast threw Lucas at the wall and then proceeded to face the door. I saw this as a sign to run, but Sasha stood transfixed, like a deer in the headlights. I sprinted out of the cabin and ran towards the van, never looking back or slowing down. I didn't care.

As I approached the van, my heart sank. It had been trashed and flipped over. Something about this. forced my mind to cast back to that dream I'd had. I gulped and knew I had no other alternative options. Well, I had to return to the cabin. I began walking back slowly, well aware of the numerous eyes that were fixated on me. I ripped a large branch from a tree for defense and continued on the path. I chuckled and smiled as I felt the eyes around me begin to scatter. The feeling gave me a sense of excitement and fear,

unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I approached the cabin door and gripped the handle tightly. I took a deep breath and opened the door. I sat up in a start. I scraped the top of my head against the light. This led to a mysterious onslaught of pain around my corner. coronal suture. He observed the room I was in. Took me a few moments to recognize it as my alcove, you know, of the room in the cabin, still with its open wall and plummeting descent into the

kitchen. I staggeringly crawled and scraped my head on the roof. An ungodly scratching noise filled my ears and my head jerked back. It took me a few seconds for the pain to crack and creep into my already pounding head. Keeping my head low, I grogily fumbled for the hatch, but with every inch I crept, I heard what sounded like scratching on the roof, and felt a slight jerk. I flipped over and looked at the ceiling.

There were two light scratches running parallel to where I'd woken up. My mind cast back to what I could remember, entering the cabin, and then a sharp, blunt force that led to darkness consuming me. as if I'd been knocked out. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd managed to get back to my room. Perhaps I'd been dragged there. I composed myself and slowly descended the ladder into the hall.

As soon as I had both my feet on the floor, and an ever so sweet and beautiful aroma filled my nostrils, what I could only describe as roast pork cooked to perfection. I follow the scent to the dining room in the cabin, almost hypnotized by it. The cabin's dining room was now set up to seat two people at each end of the table. I looked over the contents that adorned the table. Two plates and a large roast that was covered by an aluminum sheet.

On the plates lay a thick, juicy chunk of meat with bones sticking out of one end. Please do have a seat, Bobby. A voice spoke that was a combination of Jake's Ellie's and now sashes. Who are you? What do you want? I demanded. No question, please. We merely want you to sit. I sat in the chair that had been set up for me, but as soon as my hands hit the chair arms, too cold and clammy hands grabbed my arms and legs, leaving me defenseless. I pleaded for help from anyone. I knew there was no one there to hear me.

I heard something crawling above my hands. "'Who are you?' I cried out, but I didn't get a response. Instead, the figure I saw rummaging around the kitchen scaled down the walls from the rafts. Once it had reached the floor, the figure walked around the table, until it stood at the side of me, and I could clearly see every bit of detail from its elk skull that seemingly melded into its head with luminous crimson eyes, to its bony, grey, decrepit body. My brain couldn't fathom what I was seeing,

the monstrosity of a being looming over me. Without even moving its mouth, the creature demanded I eat and plunged a large chunk of the meat into my mouth. Satisfied with its demands, the creature then did an insanely athletic lunge, similar to a cat, across the table and into the seat on the other side.

My arms were then released and I reluctantly grabbed the chunk of meat by the protruding bone. The smell was so sweet and the lingering taste of the meat the creature had forced me to eat still remained and I sank my teeth into it. The creature smiled through its skull and its crimson eyes turned sapphire. The taste was surprisingly nice as if it was a combination of every meat I'd grown up loving. I took another bite, and then another, and another. The taste was just so good that I began stripping the meat at the bone. The creature had almost finished eating its own chunk of meat. It then stood up and asked what I'd thought of the meal.

I was honest and said that it was one of the tastiest foods I'd ever had in my life. It surpassed any taste I'd ever had before. The creature emoted happiness, and lifted the... elk skull only for me to see that it was grafted to the back of its head and that its elk horns were growing from its heads with a smile the creature opened its mouth and its tongue slivered out on its tongue were the heads of jake ellie and sarah what the hell i said shawks this is the blessing i have received now bobby so have you the heads of jake Ellie and Sasha spoke then.

You are now one with us, Bobby. We are the walkers in the woods. We are the majestic Wendigo. The Wendigo then grabbed a mirror from the wall and forced my head to look into it. My response was shock. On top of my head was a small set of antlers growing. My skin had turned an unusual ash-gray as well. I gasped, but even that left me afraid.

On my tongue lay the sleeping heads of those three, just like they were on the Wendigo's tongue. And now for the main course. Allow me, the Wendigo dragged off the dustcloth from the table. In the centre was Lucas gagged and bound. The arms had released me from the chair, and I scaled the table and crawled to Lucas' side and freed his mouth. "'Bobby, what the hell's going on? "'We need to escape. "'Please, Barbie!'

"'I opened my mouth, but what came out were Jake's, "'Ellies, and Sasha's voices. "'And I felt their voices "'wurm their way from the pit of my tongue "'and say exactly what it was I wanted to say. "'There's no need to worry.' "'I delved into Lucas's chest "'and began stripping him of his organs and flesh,

to consume. Once I was finished, I wiped my mouth and once again looked into the mirror. The Wendigo ate his share of Lucas behind me. Upon my tongue a small boil began to grow, behind Sasha's heads. It continued to grow until the unmistakable shape of Lucas's head nestled itself comfortably onto my tongue. I smiled, grabbed a large bone shard that I felt protruding from my spine and pulled it over my head before letting out an ungodly howl from the pain. The Wendigo then placed his hand onto my shoulder and led me to the back door. I could see a campfire out in the woods, surrounded by tents. The Wendigo whispered into my ear,

Happy hunting, I grinned and charged from the cabin on all fours, to my neck. The first rays of sunlight crept over the mountains, casting its warmth on the snow-covered valley floor below. Thomas Grain looked away from his fire to greet the frozen Alaskan peaks, which, after days of travel, now only seemed an afternoon away. He leaned back in his camp-chair, and over the steam rising from his fresh cup of coffee, admired the little clearing he'd found right before the previous sunset. It wasn't the most impressive area he'd seen since his trek to the mountain started, but something about the quaint nature of it spoke to him.

The thin pines towered over him from behind, semi-enclosing his campsite before opening to the beautiful mountains that, until now, had seemed impossible to reach. Chilled breeze flowed through the opening and around Thomas, rustling the dark hair of his beard and nipping at the exposed portions of his skin on his neck and hands. warmed only by the heat of the coffee he gingerly sipped, as he enjoyed the quiet morning he set out to the middle of nowhere to find.

The birch trees had a certain quality to him this time of year. The white and brown of the bark contrast against the impossibly finite expanse of snow, and evergreens always stunned him with their beauty, and in his tenure only found these wonders in the centre of the last frontier. He was glad that his vacation life, up to send him here early in the winter. If he couldn't have come until January, we'd have had to enlist the help of a dog sled to get even a mile outside of any civilized areas.

The depth of the snow meant he had to dig for hours to set up camp, wasting most of the few hours of daylight you would get in the Alaska winter, making travel slow and tedious. Once, when Thomas was sent to Western Alaska to work, he'd spent more time trying to build shelters to survive the cold, than he did on actual movement to the job sites. But now, in early November, the snow was only a few inches deep in most areas,

with the windrifts piling up a few, three feet berms against steep slopes, making light foot travel a possibility, while preserving the awe-inspiring white canvas of wilderness that Thomas dreamt of when he lay his head anywhere else in the world. When he'd finished his coffee, he put out the flames of his fire and began packing his camp back into his rucksack.

As he worked, he smiled as he thought back to a conversation he'd had with his handler just a week prior. His handler, George, led out a hardy laugh that filled the small, dingy coffee shop they'd found in the small city in Chilai, that they'd spent the last month occupied. There was a stark contrast between the two men. Thomas, who wasn't slender by any means, paled in comparison to the same. the mountain that sat across from him, his form barely able to be contained by the booth it occupied. We've been on the trail for almost 18 months, Thomas. George paused to sip his coffee from a cup that looks comically small in his large hands, and you're telling me you want to take your leave

hunting deer in Alaska. I don't see what's funny about that. Thomas replied with a smile, knowing well why George found it unbelievable. No hunter I've ever met once to go camping, Thomas. They go find a beach somewhere. Take a break, get their mind off things. Not go hunting deer in the most dangerous place on the planet. Third most dangerous. Thomas corrected his lifelong friend.

You serious? George asked. A glimmer of worry in his eyes. We haven't been to Alaska in years, George. No one's putting in for jobs up there. Thomas took a pause before adding Oh and I miss it People are always asking for help in Alaska

But no one wants to pay for an old Honda to track down a Wendigo and giant walls I've already planned the route Delta Junction hasn't had any reports in decades It's safe And if it's not George Thomas laughed I just got done dealing with

with a horde of vampires in the Chilean jungles, and you're asking me if a hunting trip to kill deer is safe. George was right on all counts. The Yukon had garnered a reputation as being one of the most dangerous locations on the planet. More people are given their lives to the supernatural there than any other location on the North American continent. While Thomas wasn't old by any means, in their line of work, a 33-year-old hunter was considered ancient. most hunters are either dead or retired by the age of 26 their self-preservation winning out over their slowing reflexes and their fortune amassed giving them an easy life the job was never meant to be for a family man but in thomas's time he found that many freshly married men flocked to the organization deeming that eight or so years of work was worth the rest of their lives they'd spend on the american dream of white picket-fetched fencing isn't two children families. But Thomas, well,

he had no such dreams. To him, the life of a hunter was the only life to live. As long as his body had life to give, he would keep living it. The organization recruited Thomas when he turned 18. An American company that spent

their time ensuring the legends and horror stories that filled the world's media stay just that. Stories. They sent Hunter and Handler across the world, quelling the threat of cryptids and demons for the highest bidders. The handler would be sent to the surrounding towns of the target location to gather information on the threat, and the hunter would be in the thick of hell, as George would describe it,

to handle the bounty. Being good at your job meant that a team would receive only the highest paying bids, putting them in the same location for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and in Thomas and George's tenure, they received the reputation of being the best in the business. Normally, a handler would have five or six hunters before they reached their retirement age of 40. George, being only one year away from retirement, and only two. Thomas met him when he lost his first hunter, after they've been working together for a year, having lost his life to a creature aptly named the Howitzer, adding to its long list of kills. At the time George had already counted the dough-eyed 18-year-old is dead, having been assigned

the same bounty that took his friend. He was ready to forget the kid had ever existed, until, after only three days, he reported back to the same diner they'd met in, brandishing a fresh wound on his cheek, a single giant tooth as proof of his prize. George knew that he had something special then, and after fifteen years, he had a little bit of 15 years had not been proven wrong. Thomas knew George worried about him. It wasn't uncommon for a hunter to enlist the help of another team. However, Thomas, against his handler's wishes, refused the practice for the last few years. His feats and accomplishments were only added to

by his solo treks into the wilds, but Thomas didn't do it for the fame. While there were many rumours, most being tales of his bravery, or beliefs that he had anomalous powers, only Thomas knew the real reasons, and only he would know. Even now, Thomas knew that George would be in his penthouse in Las Vegas, worrying about his hunter, standing tall in the middle of nowhere, Alaska, population one. As Thomas hauled his rucksack onto his back, he placed his thoughts about George into the back of his mind. He wasn't here to reminisce about his work. He was here to get away from the hunt. He was here to leave behind the horrors that had stalked the world, and, at least for a bit, be a normal person, doing a normal thing. He picked up his SR-25 from its resting place

on the nearby log and let his gaze rest on the mountains, drawing in its beauty before raising his chemo over his face and stepping out of the clearing. With luck, his next camp would be resting in the shadows of those giants before him. Hours had passed, and the sun began drawing the end of its arc across the clear skies above him. Thomas had made good ground since the morning. He checked his Garmin watch to see that in the last five hours he had covered fifteen miles. The mountains were now only a few hours away, and by his giant, he had been now only a few hours away, and by his judge of things did seem close enough to make camp at the base of them before nightfall. Something seemed off to him, though.

Even in the dead of winter, there was always some type of life, always moving through the forest. A snow hare, a fox and caribou. It didn't matter the size. There was always something. Save for a few birds he'd seen when he left camp that morning. It was almost like this part of the forest was empty. That seemed impossible for Thomas. When he was sent into the Russian tiger to assist as hunter in the tracking an ancient witch,

known for her ferocity and complete decimation of ecosystems, there were animal tracks and presence of life to be found everywhere. Here, there were none. No sound of wolves' howls filled the air. Creatures didn't jump from limb to limb in the trees. It was almost as if Thomas had missed. He mistakenly stepped into a different, dead reality. Odd enough as the situation Thomas found himself in,

he didn't feel like he was in danger. Over his career, he developed a sixth sense, a gut feeling to when danger would occur. He always felt watched when on mission, like at any moment a denizen of the night would spring from some unknown hiding place and drag him down to his grave. The piece of the forest was... impenetrable. The wind still blew, dancing to its own frozen song. The sun shone its victorious

bright light, and besides the utter absence of the wildlife, nothing felt wrong. Maybe nothing was wrong. As he approached a clearing and stepped through the trees, he knew though something was. before Thomas was the remains of a campsite. Three colourful tents sat in tatters. A cooler looked as if it had been thrown with its contents across the field and just as the forest he'd come from. No, life was present.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Thomas sighed. He checked the chamber of his rifle to ensure he had to round ready and began his approach to the ruins. He made his approach slow, listening over the crunch of each footstep for any sign of life at the camp. His rifle itching to be raised at the first sign of movement. Thomas scanned from tent to tent, to the edges of the clearing, then up to the tops of the trees,

looking for anything that could be waiting to pounce. He'd been ambushed like this before once in Mongolia. A group of cultists have been possessed by their pagan. garden, they helped destroy camps in the desert to lure in unsuspecting travellers for more sacrifices. When he got close to the camp, a group emerged from the sands with their sabres, thinking they'd made an easy kill. But, well, even then, vultures flew over the skies. He did nothing for his nerves when he made it to the first tent. This one was the most intact out of the three, with only small holes in abundance throughout the sides of the fabric.

Thomas noted the remarkable resemblance to bullet holes as if someone had taken an automatic rifle and slew whoever was resting inside. He readied his rifle and sigh stepped around the tent to the still-closed entrance. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath,

readying himself for what he would find on the other side of the fabric door. Slowly, he undid the zipper. The inside of the tent was unremarkable. Divide of life and the resident looked like he'd left in a hurry, leaving their sleeping bag half open and a bag of half-even chips next to it. Their packs still nestled neatly in the corner. He stepped away from the tent and looked at the ground around it.

Footprints led into the forest. You left in the hurry, Thomas spoke to the air. What were you up against? satisfied that he would find nothing here, Thomas started with the second tent. This one had seen its better days. The top of the dome dent had collapsed, as if taking an impact from a large weight. A portion of the fabric near the end had been ripped open to a shoulder-width hole, revealing the head of a sleeping bag.

No footprints or drag-mark surrounded this tent. Ripped from the bag and into the sky. Why the different M.O. from the first tent? Thomas puzzled. He felt he would find his answer, or at least some semblance of knowledge at the third tent. He didn't even need to approach to know that he would not find that. The final tent lay in tatters across the campsite. Orange strips of fabric littered the area around it, leaving only the frame of the tent standing. snow had been kicked into the tent's remains covering the bag that had been left by its former resident Thomas stood in wonder of the situation He approached the centre of the camp where a few large logs surrounded a fire pit Empty bottles of alcohol lay strewn about

Sitting at one of the logs he held his hand out over the embers of a once large frame Still warm Thomas remarked, this happened recently. He gathered his thoughts. Something about this didn't make sense. Three tents, all attacked in different ways. It's uncommon for cryptids to work together on hunts. Different species usually preferred to stay on their own,

segregating their parts of the animal kingdom. It wasn't to say that they wouldn't accompany each other on hunts when they were desperate, but, well, Thomas knew that the things that lived in the forest of Alaska were capable enough and large enough to handle a three-person camp by themselves. He would have seen scuffs in the snow, where the creatures would fight over the remains of those they killed, greedily picking over the meager scraps three people would provide.

The weirdest of all was there was no blood anywhere in the camp. With the ferocity the camp had been attacked, there should have at least been some blood, but Thomas found none. Just like the rest of the forest, this place was dead. The only proof anything had been there were the ruins he now occupied. The only clue Thomas had left to go on was the footprints he'd found at the first tent. If he wanted to know what happened here, he'd have to find out what happened to that person. Before he rose from the log, Thomas spotted a box half buried in the snow next to him.

Picking it up, he found it was a frozen but still usable box of ammunition. 308 caliber. The civilian equivalent round his 762mm rifle was using, close enough to allow it to fire. Not seeing a rifle at the camp. At least Thomas knew his survive was armed. However, he wasn't sure how much that would help them, or if they were still a survivor at all.

As the sun drew lower still from its perch in the sky. Thomas reached the edge of the clearing. He looked back, over the campsite, into the mountains which for so long was something that called to him at arms reach, now seeming impossibly far away. With a deep breath, Thomas followed the footprints into the woodline. Thomas tracked the prints for around an hour.

They led him through an erratic path, through the forest, twisting and turning in a particular direction. at times the prince would stop behind a felled tree or mass of foliage as if they'd stopped a hive from their pursuer before taking off again in a different direction than before whatever destroyed the camp wasn't happy they let one get away it seemed thomas assumed that they'd followed the survivor through the branches seeing as how there were no tracks but the survivors this still puzzled thomas because even then there would have been debris from the impact of the creature littering in the ground where they jumped and hiding behind objects not beneath them would give the creature clear sight to the survivor that glue ruled out flyers to no the assailant had to be ground base the only thing that made sense to Thomas at this point was a specter of sorts ghosts or demons with little to no tangible effects for the world around

them unless they were extremely powerful Thomas had dealt with them before many occasions in fact but even they would leave signs of their existence for the life of him Thomas could not figure out what this creature was as the sun dropped lower in the sky its light no longer produced the warmth it had given the world throughout its time over the forest Thomas drew his shemar higher across his face leaving only a slip for his eyes he was starting to get worried tracking the footsteps through the dark would be a challenging task, especially with the possibility of an unknown creature stalking the area. You'd need to find camp soon, but if he did, the chances of the survivor

still being alive would decrease from slim, well, from slim to none. So he would press on, deeper into the unknown. Something told him he had to. It was then. He felt it. As the light began to to fade, giving way to twilight. Thomas felt that twisting not arise in his stomach. He wasn't alone anymore. His senses came to high alert, eyes scanning his environment, ear straining in an attempt to hear the slightest breath that was not his own. There was no sound, no movement. But Thomas knew he had just become a target. A hunt was on. His pace quickened, lining up with the frantic steps of the tracks he'd been following. He wanted his target to feel like it had the upper hand.

In his peripherals, he caught a flicker of movement between the trees 30 metres away. It was fast, quiet. Still, Thomas moved forward. The dead forest never felt so alive. The tracks took a right turn, heading up a shallow embankment. Thomas followed them And whatever was with him Gave chase

They took him to the bottom With a shallow cliff face As he moved much as he thought the survivor was At this point in their journey He saw that they were running to There was a hole in the cliff A cave And the footprints headed into them

He heard them They scurrying feet through the snow Walking and then running then thud. Thomas turned to the direction of the sound, raising his rifle. About ten metres from his barrel sat no creature. There were no footsteps, no sounds of his assailant. Instead, nothing more than a sapling stood before him.

A single growing tree among its siblings of giants, verged by the looks of it. But why, in the dead of winter, did this child have green leaves sprouting from it. The forest had returned to death. Thomas was alone once again, save this sapling that defied what Mother Nature had instructed it to do. The weirdness of the situation overpowered him, and the twisting feeling in his gut ensured Thomas that he was not safe, but he had found his survivor. When Thomas stepped into the cave, he was greeted by a tunnel that twisted and turned for about 20 metres before he saw a light coming from a round event.

There was a fire here, giving Thomas hope that his next clue to the situation was alive. He took a few more steps before hearing rustling from in front of him. Help! Thomas began to speak when he got to the corner, but his greeting was cut short by the report of a rifle and debris falling from the wall beside him. planting himself firmly against the cave wall, ensuring that he would not be the next thing to be struck by a bullet. He spoke again.

What the hell are you doing? Thomas yelled into the cave. Please, just go away. The voice was a surprise to Thomas. He hadn't counted on his survivor being a woman, especially one with a voice that filled the air such as hers. Soft and sweet, even when. panicked. Did you come here from the camp? Thomas replied to her, ignoring her pleas.

I have a gun. I know how to use it. I'm not here to hurt you. Thomas spoke calmly. I found your camp a few hours ago. I tracked you here. I'm a friend. I'm here to help. No, reply. I know you're scared, Thomas continued. I can help you, but you need to let me. How do I know that? The woman joked back. She was afraid of Thomas. It made him think that whatever she'd seen look close enough to human to be mistaken as one.

He could possibly even talk like them. You're alive, aren't you? No response. Look, I'm going to come out, but if I do, I need to know you're not going to shoot me. I handle things like this. for a living, and I'm no good to you, Dad." Thomas spoke slowly to her, trying to calm her as best he could.

"'Put down the gun,' he continued. "'Can you do that for me?' "'Okay,' the woman spoke, almost in a whisper. "'Just please, don't hurt me.' Thomas heard the clatter of steel against rock. He stepped from his cover into the light of a dimly lit fire, illuminating the small cavern. The woman sat, pressed against the back wall, rifled by her side, knees drawn to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was younger than Thomas, maybe 28, short brown hair clinging to her face.

One of her pant legs was stained at dark crimson colour. She'd been injured. Thomas removed his shemmer from his face before approaching her, revealing that he was, in fact, human. Taking a knee in front of the woman, he stared into her deep blue eyes before speaking. It's going to be okay. You're safe now, as she broke into tears. Thomas thought back to the mountains. Their majesty once a tangible place, now seemed an impossible dream.

Bitter cold was nothing new for northern Alberta, especially not for January, and the cacophony of wind that tore through the woodlands was nothing if not wholly familiar, and almost comforting, to the one that huddled in the tree line, obliterated from vision by the pitch of night, and the swaying arm of evergreen trees. The figure stood there for a time and simply watched, waiting, head-canted ever-scented ever-green. subtly to the left, and listened, staring into the dullness of the dimly illuminated window, no more than fifty feet across the crisp layer of hardening snow, that stood without a single scar, nothing to mar its pristine surface. Much like other homes throughout the reserve, a family was nestled within, and the figure could smell the promise of stew and bannock, could feel the sudden violent clench of hunger from the depths of his belly, and touched the length of flesh that gurgled so very audibly that it was near impossible to ignore, and the being halted, peering still through the window to see if they had heard the noise.

The ominous growl of need its traitorous body had emitted. Life continued as per normal with them in those heated walls. a family sitting down to dinner. A family blissfully unaware that they were being watched, being evaluated. From the window it appeared as though the house was the same as any other,

that the people inside were just like every other family. However, there was something different about this family. The sense of dread and impending doom so thick that the grandmother naturally assumed she could not only smell it in the air but see its lingering webs in the shadows of her home six families in the last month six that were missing with little more than a struggle and vitae born finger painting that had decorated the walls and there was no one on the reserve that wasn't talking about it six families to each bag a deer from the very interior of the forest. So far into the interior that the most experienced of hunters avoided it,

not to mention the average white man, but times were tough and the pickings were slim. With so many out of work, it became harder and harder to feed families, and those with the proper knowledge and hunting rights were not about to let their own family, let alone people of their community, starve. Such was the Aboriginal way of life. The issue, however, was not in the hunting so much as what happened within a few moons of the original kill. The deer caught and cleaned and then brought back home to be butchered and divided among those that needed it most. It was the third night after this when those that lived in the home went missing. Elders, parents, children and grandchildren.

No one was accounted for, and thinking of this caused the old woman to shudder. Kokom, you okay? A small voice asked, and the woman turned her attention down to the small child, standing by the family table and nodded, forcing a smile and patted the girl on the head. You go, my girl, she said, not feeling nearly as confident as she sounded. Everything is just fine, and we have some time before dinner is ready. Go, watch your show. It was with a gap-toothed smile that the girl kissed her grandmother's hip and fled.

braid bouncing in the air behind her. And in that moment, the grandmother knew true fear. The ominous air felt positively heavy, as did the heart that beat in frantic rhythm in her chest. You're sure about this? Not in the slightest. But what can we do? Six whole families?

What else could it have been? her son replied, setting plates upon the table as his wife entered behind him with silverware and glasses. The table itself was filled, reminding the woman of the last meal allowed to a prisoner before their time in front of the creator. You said yourself that something had to be done. I didn't realize that we'd be keeping the children here instead of sending them to your wife's family. In that moment, fear sharpened her tone, anger causing her hands to tremble. They shouldn't be here. The wife looked from mother to son, swallowing, and set the utensils upon the tabletop.

We had no choice, and you know it. She began slowly. It waits for the most bountiful hall of meat it can take in one hunt. What were we supposed to do? Allow another family to disappear. At least we're prepared. The others certainly weren't. That's not the point.

It doesn't matter what the point is. It's too late. In that moment her son ended the conversation and went back to the kitchen. It was time to bring the food to the table for what could be possibly the last. last evening meal they would ever spend together. In the tree line, hungry eyes watched the three converse among themselves, the ever-present gurgle of his belly becoming all the more impatient. He didn't want to wait for the family to eat. The grandmother was plump and the children would be tender, succulent. It moved, taking a half-step forward, and could taste something bitter in its

mouth with a rush of saliva. Vomit threatened to rise up, a sudden reaction to the ravenous hunger that pulled at the creature's very being, its soul, if it could be argued that the beast still had one. For a moment, there was a sudden rush of dizziness, and its hand rested upon the tree to its left, allowing it the briefest second of respite, a moment to shake away any other thoughts that weren't related to the hunt, and it was hard to focus on anything else. Ordinarily the beast would have allowed them to dine first, but tonight would be different. The last family had been sick, and the meat worthless. The creature was starving and could not think straight, could not consider a thing

beyond the next meal presented to it. Tentatively, the first step came, foot breaking through the pristine layer of hardened snow with a subtle crunching, and it paused for just a moment, while cast in the darkness of winter's early evening, and, when nothing else stirred, it was followed by another and yet another.

It crept closer still, impatient. They sat at the table, said their thanks, and began to eat. The deer was delicious, but it was hard to swallow, for the old woman was not hungry, but could not alarm the children who ate with a gusto. Cockham! Cokum! cried the small girl.

You're not eating. The child frowned, and to set aside her worry the old woman, took a larger mouthful of potato that tasted no better than dirt in her mouth and chewed pointedly. The child watched her steadily, seemingly now suspicious of her meat, and leaned forward to sniff her dinner. Eat your supper, the girl's mother chided. There are plenty of people in our community who have nothing to eat tonight. It was then that the first crack sounded. far louder than the sound of a car backfiring and the child screamed in terror

grabbed by her grandmother and brought under the table with the command to hide with her younger brothers soon joining her two small children and a baby hiding in plain sight while their father jumped from the table and all but flew to the door pausing only to grab the hunting rifle that lay propped up by the frame their grandmother unable to ignore the sound of her own, terrified heartbeat in her ears.

The creature had all but sprinted across the snow when the noise came. Gunfire, a single shot. In that moment the beast froze and turned sharply, a figure in the darkness with two illuminated and pallid blue eyes that all but glowed in piss poor light. Darkness was the friend of this creature, and overcast evenings were favoured for this very reason. And there, while it stood hunched, its head lifted in a single wet, snuffling sound filled the deafening silence that had followed the shot. Gasoline!

It had been so eager to feast that it hadn't bothered to scent the air around it and had been trashed. In that moment, a horrific, beastly roar filled the air before the sound of gasoline, catching from a single match, could whisper through the interrupted stillness. In that very moment, it was as though the temperature dropped further from a considerable cold to something both bitter and angry, when the line of fire began to close in in rapid succession. The beast bolted and howled when the circle of flames closed around it, illuminating it as it stalked with rapid purpose in its trap, glaring hatefully at the men that emerge from the woods with their guns and lights. The promising meal was stolen from it, and rage tore at its breast. Ripping from its throat, with anger so great, it staggered the men, save for one.

one that sang, a deep and throaty sound, accompanied by a painted hand drum that seemed to drive the beast back to the very edge of its prison. Rage seemed to give way to fear, and this bolstered the men into believing that perhaps their shaman could keep the creature at bay with nothing more than a song, the creator and his magic. The children were terrified, clinging to one another and sobbing, their mother climbing under the table after them to soothe and hold them, afraid to take them from the house to the safety of the car and a house far, far from this one in which they lived. Stay here! The grandmother was soon moving to follow her son, though at a much slowed pace. The rear of their house and the field behind it were nothing if not surreal for the shadows dancing from flame and the figure that twisted itself from the man working his medicine

She moved closer to it yet Holding her heart through her breast And willed as best she could For the pace to finally slow When she came around her boy And looked upon the face of the beast the family that disappeared last winter She was the only one who spoke while he sang

And the others looked to their elder in surprise White family She spoke as though distracted Looking with pity upon the beast Husband, wife And young boy if I remember correctly The sheriff came to borrow some of our people to find them in the woods All we could find was the

car. We said prayers for them. I wonder which one of them she ate, said one voice. Could have been both. Another chimed in. She must have been the reason that party of hunters went missing a few months ago. Hungry girl. They're always hungry. The old woman was bitter. The men realizing their impropriety in that moment and falling silent as she moved forward and conked her head to the side. The woman, at one point, had been a dark-haired beauty, one that had had her son later in life and had been easily in her mid-thirties with her husband, who was still yet older, and a son, no more than three at the time. If they were lucky, they died before she ate them. A frown formed upon that wrinkled mouth, deep-set ebony eyes, meeting the frigid blue,

of the emaciated, bestial version of this woman, twisted and malnourished, fingernails little more than claws, and teeth broken so they could tear meat, that much more effectively. Gone was the pallor of humanity in her flesh,

and instead it was replaced with a grey that was reserved usually for mushrooms only. An impressive sight, even as it began to lie in the snow, covering its ears and whimpering as best an abomination could. It was strange to feel pity for the beast that it had killed so many, but it too had once been human, and for that old woman could feel pain

and look at the creature with tears obscuring her regard. Well, I think we need to discuss what to do with it. What do you think we do? We kill it. Yep. seems like the only way to know for sure that it's gone. We can't kill it, the sun interrupted, sighing. It's not the flesh we need to fear. That only holds the spirit. You can't kill the Wendigo. The spirit lives forever and is always hungry. If we kill it, then it will go free and torment another. He looted his mother, resting a large, calloused hand on her shoulder. It will go

the others. It was then that the tears fell, the old woman crying openly and turning from the thing before her, turning away from her son, and fled to the safety of the house behind her. The others had fallen silent in that moment, out of respect for their elder, and look to one another. Do we even have room for another? Just this one. We need to build another place to house them. Jesus Christ, Frank, we can't keep them caged. Someone's going to die when they get loose. If they get loose. It doesn't matter.

We're trying to end the spirit here. The man, Frank, said, sounding as though exhausted, and watched his mother enter the house to be with his wife and children. Damn woman wouldn't listen when we told them not to go that way. We were just stupid Indians that didn't know as much as her GPS, and now she learned the hard way, and we have to clean up her mess. Headlights could be seen from the front of the house, someone arriving, and feet crunching in the snow, while another elder emerged carrying a cast iron collar on a length of iron wood. They would collar the creature and lead her much like cattle. A secondary staff, was in his left hand, fashioned with a hook that would secure to another loop in order to have two men

lead the exceptionally willful and quick beast to where they wanted it to go. Frank stepped away from the others and tried to block out the sounds of the captured creature being collared and readyed for transportation through the woods to the cave where it would be kept from this day forward. The shaman stopped his song, instead handing an iPod to the young man who would fit the earbutt into the ear of the creature to listen to songs that had been recorded for this precise reason. It had happened so many times that now they could stop thinking, could simply go through the motions, and for that Frank was grateful, remembering the first time he'd done exactly

this thing. Back in those days, the shame. and stayed and there was comfort to be had in that. You all right boy? He was asked and looked at Paul. Paul had been there for his first and now looked so old. I will be. Go stay with Mum and Nadine. I'll be back as soon as I can. He forced to smile, patted the old man on the shoulder and stepped away to take up the second staff and lock it into place. Let's go. He nodded to his partner ahead, taking up the left rear of the beast. It seemed like they walked for hours in the frigid cold to the locked gate that sat upon a naturally formed cave.

One that was dug clearly into the wall of the mountain and had no exit. Well, hopefully still had no exit, as no one could enter to check. A sigil was painted above the cave. a malformed skull of sorts, with creed glyphs painted along with it. She? The creature, he corrected himself. Recoiled from it as he opened the gate and released his staff from the lock. Push it in!

It was easier if you didn't think of them as being human once upon a time. Always easier. He took up the remaining staff with the other man and shoved hard. pushing this poor white woman through the cage door as it shrieked and convulsed only to fall to the ground and begin vomiting a foul-smelling bile-smelling bile upon the stone. Frank kicked the cell door closed and fashioned the lock into place. The warding would only work so long before someday failing, and when it did, be damned if the reservation wasn't going to have at least some time to place. evacuate. May the Creator use your pain and forgive your mistake. Hungered a strange things to people. He whispered, looking at the snow beneath his feet. I hope it wasn't your son that made you this way. A growl was heard, weak from the depths of the cage. Another set

of pale eyes staring from the darkness before the now-desicated creature moved forward and hissed, lazily at him. A face much like his own if it had been born from a nightmare. Hi Dad. Thirty years, almost to the day. And the monster hadn't aged a year. Not one year. I don't know how you can manage to come out here every time. It's like he knows you're coming and he's trying to figure out where he wants to bite first. The other man, Trevor, shuddered despite himself. Thirty years of starving. Why else would it look like that of me?

It's not like you knew me. I was just a baby. Frank shrugged. Maybe this guy wasn't named Trevor. He couldn't really bring himself to care, to be honest. Now, I'm just dinner. You accept it, deal with it and move on. Eventually they'll die.

Maybe. Who knows? It was bleak to think about. And even worse when he turned to look at his father. The woman now rousing herself and, realizing what had happened, almost instantly began throwing herself at the cage door with a shriek. Angry, fearful. Nothing that was new to him.

just like they all do this it's like watching old shows you know you know what's going to happen because they never deviate never a shake of his head and he sighed stepping back

you know it shouldn't bother me at all but I didn't know the guy but it broke my mother she still misses him sometimes she comes to look at his face I keep telling her not to but she does. Old woman is never going to learn,

but she says, but she says he was the love of her life. If it were Nadine, I'd want her to move on, you know. Frank rambled. He always rambled. It was just how he coped with what he saw, with what he volunteered to do.

Sometimes she just can't fucking win. Am I right or am I right? He turned away then and saw the darkness on the snow first. brow furrowing in confusion. There was enough light to make sure that they didn't have these shadows, and they shouldn't have appeared like splatter patterns. Treve!

His eyes scanned ahead of him to the fallen man on the ground. His throat having been ripped out so quickly he hadn't even had time for a death rattle. And upon his chest? A small figure, no bigger than his own. son of about two and a half. Suddenly he felt sick and acceptance all at once. Frank was trapped. He would never be able to outrun this tiny creature that would likely tire him before he could make it that kilometer home. In this moment he knew he was done. He knew there was nothing he could do and the sound of hungry screams did nothing to lessen the blow behind him. One cry, however, was almost joyous, relieved.

It was hard to describe as the female threw herself against the cage door to no avail time and again. Well, kid, I wish he'd loved you enough to eat you. The immortal Wendigo child turned to him, a mouthful of blood and meat dripping from his small and broken moor while he stared at Frank. For a moment, it was as if a stalemate had begun to declare itself, and then it pounced. Wet slurping filled the cold night. The child ate like he had never eaten before. The meat was good. Healthy. It felt good between his teeth and sliding down his throat. He played with his meal, as all children do, beaming at his mother when he turned to show her the puppet he'd made out of his second kill skull, before pushing it forward with a soft croon. His mother whistling

softly in the night to him, a lullaby that was for him only, while trying to push a hand out from between the bars and found that she could not. So close and yet so far from the sun she'd kept alive for this long. The song turned sad and she found herself lying down. Face pressed to the stone. Her son soon mimicking the pose she held but out in the snow where she could not reach him. His tiny hand reaching for her but paused. mere inches from her own. And together they lay, singing softly to one another, waiting for the mark above the cave to simply wear with time. Interview with a Wendigo. Let's get going. We have a schedule to keep. The southern draw of Joel Singer called out from the bed of the old van

in the driveway. The cold foggy morning was damp from the rain that had fallen the night before. making the ground covered in frost as the rest of his team joined him. The weather was cold, I was only going to get worse, making it very hard to argue with the man. The southern giant was loading heavy equipment boxes into the truck bed. Like his companions, Joel had dressed for the weather, flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbow, tan cargo pants and hiking boots.

The man had the equipment to handle where they were going. He was the experts. Let's get the lead out. we have a job to do. Joel called out now with more bass in his voice, finishing loading the van. The idea of spending three weeks with these four wasn't Joel's idea of a good time. By then an attractive albeit authoritarian-looking woman, her mid-twenties, had strolled to the larger man. The morning sun kissed her skin, and the lightly tan tone made the shock of the outer part of her blonde hair stand out like honey-gold. her eyes were deep blue and her eyeliner was pink with three beauty marks below her right eye

well she stood out being the only one not dressed for the wilderness with a voluptuous body with a noticeably covacious figure a figure one would see in one of those adult movies or fashion magazines well it was more to her though than a pretty smoking body tall lithe and athletic she had a far more muscular physique than her valley girl appearance would admit her outfit was a ruffled pink, long-sleeved crop top, and a ruffled pink skirt with a slid at the hem. Like pink slash is a belt with a heart design. Cassie, we're going to the woods. We're going to be in the mud and dirt, so why? You think maybe you're a little underdress for the job?

Quincy Woods asked in his Boston accent, like gravel, tossing his bag into the pickup. His build was unique, so it made him seem small compared to the other males at only 5-11. The likes of Joel, who sported. to towering height and heavily muscle built. Quincey was of average height and extremely lean. This man's hard physique and accent gave off the impression of a hard-as-nail street thug. His most striking features were his eyes,

distinctly icy blue, and his haggard features, with an unkept brownish beard and a Viking undercut, paired with a messy top-knot holding up his long, slick-back brown hair. The blue jeans, a light blue short-sleeved, button-up shirt, and a brown t-shirt underneath, wearing a blue shirt

a denim jacket for the cold and dark hiking boots for the trail ahead of them. Shut it, Quincy. You only wished you looked as good as me. Cassie Bridges snapped in her valley girl accent, clawing at the two men's brains with how annoying it was. You know she's right. We're heading to the Yukon,

really going to be there for a photo shoot. Frank called out to Cassie, his hands full with their equipment and a bag on his back. Tossing the rucksack into the truck, Frank turned to his team. Frank Doyle walked toward his three companions, a tall, tan Caucasian male in his mid-30s. He looked like a movie star, ruggedly handsome good looks, complete with a sharp jawline, a cleft chin,

a few beauty marks, and sporting a five o'clock shadow, which gave Frank all the makings of a heartthrob in a rom-com. Short and spiky, open hair, and squinty hazel eyes. He had a muscular physique, standing at 6-2 and weighing in around 220 pounds of pure muscle. Frank looked as capable of beating someone's ass as he was of getting a girl for the night. Wearing an army green, four-buttoned Henley shirt and tan cargo pants and army boots with black leather tactical gloves on. He was holding his rucksack.

Cassie smiled at Frank, giving him bedroom eyes as he passed. Behind Frank, looking at a camera and some sound equipment was Nolan, setting his gear into the van. He grumbled something under his breath, passing Frank and Cassie were a look toward the pair that was a mix of longing but also disgust. Nolan Harker was taller, at least six feet and wiry, with cherry red hair and a mud cart with sideburns

that made the others think Nolan looked like a ginger-assed in powers and black eyes behind half-moon glasses which gave off a cold vibe that was hard to shake. Being the leanest of the five, Nolan still had a bit of muscle on him. The young man looks skinny compared to his peers, though. Army Parker, Cuban-style car keys, linen, Gorya-Bara-style shirt, and hiking shoes were his preferred footwear.

That bloody equipment's loaded. Let's get the hell on with this before we all die of old age. Nolan barked, annoyed, his thick Welsh accent, adding an edge to his tone. Cassie, you want to drive with me? Nolan asked. His eyes hopeful. Yeah, I'm sorry, but no, I'm going with Frank. You can go with Joel and Quincy, Gassie said,

her face showing her disgust at the gall of Nolan, ruining her alone time with Frank. Nolan looked hurt and angry at the couple, as they made their way to the Jeep. After another 20 minutes of prep work and packing, the five loaded out and started heading to Whitehorse. A long drive for the crew from Prince George, British Columbia, and the sun was going down by the time they reached a motel in a small town halfway towards Whitehorse.

With the sun on the horizon, the crew thought it best to rest there for the night. Tell me why we couldn't at least fly to White Horse. Cassie Wyand as she was stiff and cranky from the long drive, and when she stepped out of the Jeep she heard popping from her body. She stretched while Nolan went to get their room keys. By the time she'd finished with her stretches, Nolan had returned. she joined the guys taking her room keys while the guys took the other rooms. There's no budget for it.

With all the equipment we have, we were lucky to get over the border. Last most of our equipment was shipped to Whitehorse a few days ago. Joel told Cassie, grabbing his bag and heading to his room to get some sleep. His crew followed suit. The night was chilly for spring, and for Joel and the rest of the crew it was still too cold for them. It was later when Frank walked outside. cigarette in his mouth. And the moonshine illuminated the parking lot

and the forest in front of the motel. He looked back, seeing Cassie in a blanket covering her naked, alluring figure. Cassie had invited herself into his room after she figured the others had passed out. Her nightclothes were on the floor, next to Franks. Even now, with work and staying in a crappy motel, Cassie and Frank weren't able to miss out

on a perfect opportunity for their favorite past time. Frank turned back around, looking out along the woodlight. Frank, baby, come back to bed, Cassie called out to him, her eyes burning into his soul. He felt her looking at him, the frosty cloud of his breath visible from the moonlight. The evidence of their lovemaking still hung in the air. Yeah, babe, I'll be there, Frank said. His eyes still fixed on seeing several sets of eyes looking back at him. Sweetard, just get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. And as he said that, three gunshots broke the silence, accompanied by an ungodly scream

that he heard coming from the woods. Frank casually walked back into the motel like nothing had happened. Neither Cassie nor Frank had much of a reaction toward what had happened outside. Yeah, we'd better head to bed before joining Cassie in bed and before long. the moon light was shining on them sleep took them away until morning came in the forest the icy cold of night consumed all hiding the dangers of this subartic landscape the ancient forest was silent no owls wolves or any other animal the forest was as dead as the gray in the shadows four figures were standing around each other watching the motel and the dead figures at the wood line the

The morning was colder than before, almost like the weather didn't want them to go any further. Frank and Cassie emerged from their hotel room. Cassie now dressed more for the weather. A Russian Cossack hat, red and black Parker, gray scarf, beige combat pants, a black sleeveless top, and a pair of black snow boots. Frank and the others were also ready for the weather. Parkers, beanies, gloves, along with the rest of the gear, were now in the vehicle. Frank took a moment, looking out over to the mountains, praying they didn't have to go there. Mount Logan was on the horizon. Its snow-capped peak was shining with the rays of the morning sun. The shadows of the forest in front of them were revealing their secret slowly as the morning chill came with a fresh scent of pine, white spruce, balsam poplar, and trembling aspen.

Let's get going. We're burning daylight. Quincy yelled from across the parking lot. On to Whitehorse then? Frank asked with a yorn. Joel shook his head, though. Oh, change your plans. Whitehorse is off. Pale Valley is off. Isaac and his team are heading to Whitehorse and meet us there once their business is done.

Joel explained, finishing loading the car. After breakfast at a local diner, the crew was off back on the road, heading to an airfield, heading to Pale Valley, a small village several miles from Old Crow. After several hours and a ton of fast food, high tension and the constant feeling of being followed, they finally arrived. It was late, around one in the morning, and a welcoming party was waiting for them, which was strange, seeing as this trip was so last minute. After exiting the plane, their gear was unloaded and sent to the inn that they would stay at, and a car was provided on arrival. Joel was the first out of the plane, meeting with a group of First Nation members. The first was a young woman, her skin paler than the others in her group, long raven black hair,

braided down the back and twinkling dark brown eyes. She was a tall, slender, yet statuesque figure with broad shoulders and modest hips and modest bust, wearing a turquoise necklace, the lights of the airfield building, made it give off a dull glow. Her outfit comprised of black snow boots, light blue ski pants, a black shirt, and a red leather jacket. The other was a tall, muscular Native American man in his late twenties or early thirties. He towered over those surrounding him. Even Jol, a mountain of a man in his own right, was almost a foot shorter.

Much of his hair was in a mohawk with a long braid in the back, and he wore an old grey jacket, worn jeans and leather boots. The other was the older of the three, a man with a weathered scowl, clean-shaven with a steely gaze. His large build made him intimidating, in a deerskin jacket and flannel shirt, a pair of cargo pants, hiking boots, and grey gloves. He had long iron-grey hair that was dancing lightly in the wind. He was carrying a handmade tomahawk and a rifle in the other hand. Welcome to the Pale Valley. Rarely we get visitors around this part. the older man said greeting the group that had arrived his voice was slow and smoky from years of tobacco use

Joel offered his hand to the older man Thank you great to be here Joel took the older man's hand shaking it and the old man was stronger than he looked He introduced himself as dark long shadow to each of the newcomers Yes, I understand you're looking for someone or something He asked before introducing the two with him the woman was named Liz and the bigger man was Jacob wendy Benoit she here Joel asked to which Doc shook his head but told him she was out of town and we'll be back later about a week

the three then led Joel and the rest of the crew to the old Buckeye lodge a small but cozy cabin on the edge of the village the cabin was big enough to hold all the equipment and the crew were comfortable with chairs a couch and a fireplace that had a roaring fire already started. They unpacked their gear and equipment before going to bed. Well, as the weeks passed, Nolan and Quincy had gone to conduct recon for filming locations, while Frank and Cassie got the living room for the interview and got some supplies. The crew also got to meet more of the townspeople.

A dog was the elder in the town, and Liz was his aide while Jacob was the sheriff. All of them got a tour of the town, got its history, history, its popular locations, and learned the local traditions. Doc even told them at the festival that we'll be starting in the coming days, but with the good was the bad. Strange noises, the feeling of being watched, and the way the locals have been acting. The longer the crew is in town, the stranger the town became. They were friendly, but the townspeople here were maybe too friendly, and the way they looked at the five of them, like each one was a cut of meat. Well, the whole thing had all the crew on edge.

What was worst was that all of them had the same feeling at night. That was until the last week of their stay. Doc arrived at the cabin. Is everyone ready for a drink? Doc asked, taking them to the local tavern. Well, Ten Elks Tavern was at the centre of the town, while it was small, there was a welcoming aura to it. It looked very local with pool tables in the corner,

dartboards and a pinball machine at the far end. The owners had scattered the tables about the bar, with patrons all deep in conversation, but they turned their attention to the party when they walked in. "'Hmm, looks cozy here,' Quincy said, with sarcasm in his voice, getting an uneasy feeling from all of the staring face. So we opted to go to the bar, telling the bartender to give him a jack and coke and keep them coming.

Nolan joined Quincy, getting himself a beer, and this also for Joel Cassie and Frank. All of them felt the crowd's eyes on them. Cassie was getting a chilling feeling when she sat down. Joel and Frank were also clearly on edge. Even when they were ordering food, they felt out of place here. These people didn't look at them like they were out of place. outsiders. It's more like, well, like they were items on the menu. Rabbit meat, horse meat, deer meat. It's like any type you like they have. What kind of place is this?

Cassie asked, speaking in a hush tone to the rest of the group. This made Joel and the others take quick glances around, assessing the crowd. All five of them tried to hide how on edge they were. Doc was nowhere to be seen, and it was more than a little odd that their host had disappeared on them so suddenly. Luckily enough, Joel had packed for anything, and had given each of them a weapon back at the cabin to carry while in town. After the weeks that they'd stayed, all of them were now thankful for Joel for these weapons. It didn't take long for one of the locals to walk up to their table. It was a boarding man with a high widow's peak and thin, wispy beard, a lanky man. a lanky man with a massive beer guns.

His eyes were small, beady and dark. Dressed like a hick at a trailer park with his denim jacket, jeans and trucker hat. He was stumbling across the tavern, making his way towards the table, looking right at Cassie. Putrid smell came off him, making Cassie have to fight the vomit coming up from the stench. Hey, baby. How about you and me have a drink? maybe have a little fun, the man asked. His words slurred and his breath as foul as the rest of him.

John and Frank got to their feet, ready to step in, when the door opened, and the crowd in the tavern cheered at the person walking in. Who came in was a striking beauty, Wendy Benoit, an attractive young Native American woman with bronze eyes and inky, silky black hair. yet she had an aura of professionalism about her. Wendy was dressed like she was going camping wearing an army green woman's saddle, country shirt jacket,

a woman's rose-red flannel shirt, tight blue jeans, tan hiking boots, and had a cute orange beanie in her hand. Under her clothes, Wendy had a fairly broad-shouldered, toned torso. It maintained a voluptuous and bucks and figure, which was further stressed because she was considerably shorter than the man that was in front of her.

The Hicks smiled, his teeth yellow and rotting, and upon seeing Wendy, he strode towards the woman. Cold, can I get a dark and stormy? Wendy asked the bearded tattooed bartender. She was leaning on the bar counter, her back arched, her ass weighing back and forth, waiting for her drink. You got it, Wendy.

Aren't you usual from the kitchen? He asked, making her the drink and earning a nod from Wendy. She was told. with the bartender, when she let out a yelp and shot to her feet with a hand over her butt and a pissed off look on her face. Yes, the hick had made his move. Being bolder this time, the hick had walked past Wendy and swiftly smacked her ass, the biggest shitted ingrin on his face. Damn, go, let me really tap that ass. He growled, holding his hand up and flexing his finger

in a lewd way. Well, Wendy straightened up. brushed off her butt before turning to face the hick, and cranked her neck before her knee made contact with his crotch, making him drop to his knees. The hick was groaning in pain and looked up at Wendy, only to find the business end of her knee, knocking him to the floor, his nose now gushing blood. Bobby, touch me again with those greasy hands.

I'll break it off and feed it to you. Wendy told the hick, her boot was on his chest, pinning him down. Well, all took notice, checking Wendy out. Even Frank was, making Cassie huff in jealousy. Me, you boys need a napkin. You're leaving a puddle on the floor, she hissed, her eyes staring daggers at Frank. Cassie, are you jealous? Nolan asked, teasing her, earning him the same glare she was giving Frank. I just don't see why you four panting like dogs. She's not all that hot. She's not all that hot. She's not. said, hoffing again. Cassie, look at her. She looks like she should be a model for sports

illustrators. You look like a model for playboy, Nolan said, pointing from Wendy to Cassie. You would say that, you freaking pervert. Cassie spit out in a low tone, making Nolan go silent. Well, you want to try your luck? Go talk to her and get your teeth kicked in, she grumbled. That too went on like this for a while until Joel stood up. heading to the bronze-eyed beauty. Excuse me, miss, but are you, Wendy Binois? Yeah, who are you and why do you want to know? Wendy asked.

Wendy asked, as one of the waitstaff, set her drink in front of her. She looked at the older man with a drink in her hand. She still looked annoyed after dealing with that pervert early. I'm a guide to that film crew over there. Joel began, pointing to Cassie and the other three men. We're here to do interviews at the local. and tourists on sightings of local legends.

We've been told that you know quite a bit about it, Joel explained, getting a bored and annoyed look from Wendy. Visibly annoyed that someone was interrupting her when she was trying to relax, and here this guy was bothering her. Well, take a seat in your frankenjoy, but any funny business and I walk, she warned him, her voice luscious, very tasteful and attractive, appealing to Joel like the call of the wild. With that, Joel gestured for the others to join.

and they brought their drinks and food having a good time getting to know Wendy as she got to know them but well like all things it had to end as the tavern was closing Nolan and Quincy were checking Wendy out the entire time and as the night drew to an end Wendy stood up about to head out oh Wendy if you've got nowhere to go we've got an extra room plus we haven't done the interview yet quincy was hiding his lustful intentions with a toothy smile Wendy's eyes narrowed at the bearded man She was no fool and knew Quincy was looking for more than a simple interview But she took the offer all the same Fine, I can take you in my Jeep

I can take most of you, but the rest will have to wait here for me to come back Wendy said, leading Joel, Frank and Cassie While Nolan and Quincy were left waiting Part two It was late by the time everyone made it to the cabin The sun had long since drifted past the horizon And the night had taken over the land as everyone agreed to get comfortable. Wendy and Cassie headed to the shower with Frank

and Joel standing guard. Nolan and Quincy were outside checking the generator. The bit of coal would not stop the two men from their goal. While outside, Quincy and Nolan were heading back when they passed the girls' room. Hearing the ladies, Quincy's head cocked towards the window. The boys decided to go into the bushes, mindful of the snow so it's not to be. to alarm the women, seeing if they could hide there. Both men looked through the window and saw Cassie and Wendy taking off their towels to change clothes. Wendy was taller and had more muscle tone, and still shone with the water of the shower. And she had those bucks and curves in ample bust. Well, Cassie was a gorgeous subject in her own right, with her athletic yet far more voluptuous

figure, with her larger bust and wide hips. Ah, both men were drooling over the late. Ladies. Quincy had his eyes on Wendy like a panting dog. You noticed all the tattoos then on Wendy's body? Shed her back to the window, talking to Cassie about how the interviews will go. Wendy's bag had a massive skeleton with a Native American headdress with a tomahawk in its hand, with a tomahawk in its hand and two other skulls on either side of the Indian figure. The tattoo started at the middle of her back, up to just the top of her butt, with the word exile written below. the Indian. Across her shoulders were the word smile at fear in elegant cursive. Wendy turned around to grab her duffel bag, revealing two more tattoos. A skull with roses around it on her stomach, going around her belly button, and a bone-handled bowie knife, and a tomahawk crossed in an

X with writing on the bottom going from her right thigh to her right knee. Cassie didn't have any tattoos the size of Wendy's, only a butterfly on her lower back and an archer on her shoulder. Twenty minutes later, and everyone was in the living room. Wendy sat on the couch in a light blue tank top, with a hem ending above her navel and low-rise black sports shorts. Cassie was in a chair across from her in simple underwear and a long-sleeved shirt that was her pajamas, and a blanket over her. Joel was at the window, watching as a safety protocol.

Nolan was holding a camera while Quincy was operating the sound boom. Frank was by the fireplace, tending to the creaking fire. You're looking comfortable, Wendy. Should we begin the interview? Cassie asked, grabbing a pen and notebook from the coffee table. Well, maybe we can start with you or your expertise on the local legends. She added as the camera rolled. Sure, I can start with me.

That's not a problem. Wendy began, her chin resting on her hand. Great, so, um, tell us about yourself, Cassie asked, setting a notebook on her lab. well I was born in a small village near what would be Toronto I was so happy then my papa was a hunter and the chief of my tribe my mother was the medicine woman for the tribe

those were good times but like all good things it must end Wendy said a sadness to her voice she looked away from the group drawing her gaze to the window for a moment to collect herself the shine of a single tear was visible on her chief Oh, my family hell. They slaughtered my entire tribe.

Who slaughtered them? Cassie asked, trying to hide her eagerness, masking it with a sympathetic look and tone that made her appear disingenuous. Wendy clicked her tongue out of annoyance, but gave Cassie what she wanted. All the same before, straightening up in her chair, Wendy's eyes flashed a pale white. laughing bear he and two others wanted to eliminate the competition he had a hunting party of monsters

attacked my tribe and killed them not only killed worse than that she started her hand shaking as this reopened a wound that Wendy thought was nothing more than a scar well no longer

that sounds horrible but how are you alive after that Cassie's words spilled out of her mouth without thinking. Wendy's expression remained neutral, but Cassie could tell there was a slight twitch in the corner of her eye. Wendy looked astonished by Cassie's forwardness. A man saved me. I think of him now as a father. I grew up with him and his other children, all often like myself. I remained with my new father for a long time. We had some grand adventures, and I love my new family still have contact with them. I lived with them until I met my husband.

She reminisced at the memory. You're married. You don't have a ring, Cassie asked. Her eyes on Wendy's right ring finger. Yes, I am. I have been for many years. I just kept my ring in a safe place when I'm working. My husband's name is Harry, and I met while my family and I were in Quebec. Harry was on a hunting trip after that, and he ran into each other.

It was after a run in with a tribe of Duhinan. Well, imagine savage humanoid cannibals. They may be child-sized, but they're incredibly strong, and often attack in large numbers. Evil little bastards. They're much like Wendigo, but what's worse is they don't eat women right away. These fuckers have other plans. Wendy hinted at the vile act before continuing. Well, Harry was my hero, getting my ass out of the fire.

Well, I was an adult at this point, and while no push-over, I was over-confidence, way over my head. And this to Heon. have me dead to rights, ready to do the unspeakable. Here comes Harry like some mad animal. Oh, the look in his eyes of those dwarfs. Let's just say I'm glad it wasn't for me. While Wendy was trying to make the drama and fear real, her expression was odd, as was her tone,

like this was arousing her. You need a moment. Sounds like your husband's a real man, Cassie asked, her pen in her mouth, listening to every word. I'll be fine. He's the best man in the world. I'm his. Now, I've saved him here and there, too. He and I became partners after a while. He's a Honda, after all. I wanted to join him and do what he does. Oh, he had some marvelous adventures, too. We had a run-in with La Cusa and her Tata-Tacla. Oh, and a really nasty Scootamuch. Good times in those days, when it was the two of us. Wendy said, her eyes full. Her eyes full. And her eyes full. And she was, she said, her eyes full. filled with nostalgia.

What are those? Dwarves or other masters? Cassie continued to ask her series of questions, not sure of what to make of Wendy's story. Ah, Shudakamuch, the ghost witch, is one of the scariest and most dangerous

figures in Pasamaquoddy and Mick-Mack mythology, and in America. The ghost witch is often said to be born from the dead body of a shaman who practice black magic, the demonic entity then emerges each night to murder anyone they find. You can kill them with fire, but beware of approaching one.

Simply making eye contact or hearing the witch's voice can bring a diabolical curse down on the unwary. So best to get them when they're sleeping or distracted. Now, look who's her, Tartakla. The big owl and the owl women from the Yakama tribe. Come tales of five supernatural women who resemble giant owls. plus a big mother, dwelling in caves by day and flying out at night to prey on many creatures, including humans.

Well, in fact, they prefer the taste of children. Legend has it, they can hunt humans by mimicking their language. They're easy enough to kill, move the head, but they fly in there fast as hell. She explained, getting a look from not only Cassie but the whole team. This made Wendy happy. She was leaning back in her seat. "'You're very knowledgeable. I'm impressed.

"'Now, speaking of monsters, "'Tell us more about what you know,' "'Cassie requested the professional journalist in her coming out. "'Well, Wendigo is the commonly asked one. "'You must not realize how many types are.' "'Wendy's comment was nonchalant. "'Well, there are other creatures like Wendigo. "'Explain,' Cassie asked.

"'To begin with, what most people think. Wendigo it's like deer like man-eaters that stalk the forest in the northeast but that's not the case. Wendigo's a humanoid standing at over six feet. They appear emaciated with bones visible under their pallid skin as a symbol of their unquenchable hunger. Wendigo's eyes usually push back deep in their sockets with milky white eyes and have many layers of crooked and sharp teeth. They have razor-like claws used to rip prey to shreds. The idea of the antlers and the deer skull is not new, but a more modern than traditional one to some tribes here in the north. The tradition of the deer antlers and skull is still a practice, but for as a hunting ritual, well, most of deer or deer-related animals.

There are some who do use other animals like bears, wolves, and mountain lions. Wendy explained, I think Cassie write her notes so she'd understand what she was talking about. So, well, there are more. How is that point? possible others are out there. Cassie inquired, her pen tapping at her bottom lip. Her attention was totally on the woman on the couch in front of her. Wendy crossed and then uncrossed her legs, thinking about how best to word her answer.

Creatures like the Wendigoa, Wichugi, Kiwok, Genu, Junquois, A-chin, Atchia, Chinu, Lijarak, Taruxuk, Most are here in northern Canada, and Alaskan, most of the northern part of the United States. That many? What makes them so similar or so different? What makes these monsters you listed like Wendigo? Cassie continued her questions.

To hear that there were so many variations of one type of monster was amazing. This is a long explanation. The starters, most, if not all of them, are cannibalistic and spirit-like, so. If they die, they can possess those that engage in cannilism. Now, this is only possible if they're of pure blood, but, well, let's start with the Kiwok. They have a culture. It's like the Abanaki tribe of the northeastern United States. A Kiwok, or Gihuacua, was a giant cannibalistic, half-animal, half-human creature

that inhabited the forests and woodlands of the area of present-day New England and Quebec, which are in ancient times. Now, they've spread across the northeast, and some are here in the UK. Come. Most legends describe them as former humans whose hearts turn to ice because of either possession by an evil spirit or commission of some dreadful crime, such as cannibalism or allowing a person to starve. Well, he doesn't feel regret for his crimes. He only feels hunger. That's all he can feel. But they look more like giant humans with animal features. Some have animals or some have horns or even wings. Wendy felt her explanation was a little long-winded, but he looked, you know, She had some venom in her tongue.

Next we have the Chenu, another evil cannibalistic spirit. Well, seen as cannibalistic ice giants or yeti-like, but the two are not related. Chinu is larger than the average man. Getting bigger, the hungry they are. They have sharp fangs which stand out because they chew off their lips. They're hairy too, with thick, ashy hair, and with horns. Now, Chinu used to be human.

being corrupted by dark magic and cursed to eat people's flesh. Her bodies become excruciatingly warm and hair grows, thus they look like a Yeti, forcing them to live out in the snow. There are a few ways to kill her, Chinu. Usually require you to do so more than once. Some versions say the only way to make sure that truly dead is to chop up their bodies into multiple pieces. There's no way of destroying the Chinu, except by destroying their icy heart. either by tricking them into eating salt or forcing them into eating so much that they throw up wendy continued seeing that no one was interrupting her

genu is a wild and cannibalistic hairy giant normally in maine with a culture like the miquac in the same region jeanoo is comparable to the wendigoa and to a lesser extent susqueh there are more mysteries more rumors wendy was reviling at the experience expressions of our audience. And now we have the wetchuge, a man-eating creature or evil spirit that acts like members of the Aztapashkan people. Some were people possessed or overwhelmed by the power of one of the ancient giant spirit animals. They start out as savagely animalistic. These giant creatures become a crafty, more intelligent, powerful,

and yet somehow keep their power despite being transformed into humans or icy, massive mammals. Unlike the Wendigo, the Wichugee seek to eat people, attempting to lure them away from their fellows by cunning. But it's made of ice and very strong, and the only way it's killed is by being thrown on a campfire and kept there overnight until its melt is. Wendy said, and the crew was now noticing the underlining venom in her tongue.

The Tariaksuk is a humanoid creature associated with shadows, invisibility and obscurity. They're the same as any other human being, They have houses, families, weapons, tools, and more. Their culture is similar to Inuits in the same region. Where they deviate from normal people, however, is that they're not visible to the naked eye by looking straight at them. In looking directly at them, they are to disappear into the separate world

which they occupy, apart from our own, and only reappear when they go in for the kill. They only become visible when they're killed. If they choose to, their true appearance is that of a half-man, half-caribou. creature. Aside from the strange condition of their visibility, they can only catch prey while hunting on foot. Thanks to that, they're often mistaken for Wendigo, which is one reason why people think of the Wendigo the way they do today. Wendy then stood up, going to the door, opening it and letting the cold air kiss her skin, making her sigh. A sizeable population here in

the Yukon are the Aachen, cannibalistic spirits that hunt. through the permafrosts. They're rare to find unless they're looking for you themselves. They share the tradition of using the skulls of animals during their hunts. So, mouse, ox, elk, mountain goats. And as such, you expect the Atchene would look like a wind-go, but at least that's not the case. They're more robust and hunchback.

Their arms are long, making their fingers drag on the ground, and their feet are more hooved. Wendy leaned against the frame of the door. The room was getting unnaturally cold now. Each member of the film crew felt their hair stand on end as the cold nipped at their exposed skin. The moonlight spilled into the cabin, illuminating the room and bathing Wendy in a pale glow, creating both an alluring but also an ominous atmosphere. How do you know all of this? Cassie asked, standing up, exposing her bare legs to the cold.

Cassie felt goosebumps forming as she backed away. behind the boys. Ah, that's easy. I am a Wendigo, Wendy said, looking at the five. Her once bronze eyes, now a milky white. You're a Wendigo?

Aren't you supposed to be thin and wraith-looking? Cassie asked, a slight tremble in her voice. Joel now had his hand on the pistol at his hip, while Frank was putting distance between himself. and Wendy. Nolan and Quincy were frozen with their equipment in hand, not sure what to do. Because I know how to control myself, well, sort of. I mean, I have to eat a lot. Wendy said, smiling at them, and their smile made their blood rancourt. Oh, sit down. If I was going to eat you, I would have done so by now.

Wendy was nonchulently brushing her hair away from her face as she enjoyed the cold air on her skin. Joel stood up, making a beeline towards Wendy. Don't give me that bullshit. You mean to tell me you're a Wendigo and you're not hungry? He was perplexed, not believing a word from this woman. Believe me, it doesn't matter. You'll soon realize I'm the least of your worries. Wendy told Joel, looking outside as a pair of a pair of.

glowing, pale eyes peered in from the woodland. Yeah, looks like we have company. Wendy looked outside, then back to the crew. Her eyes back to normal until he could hear the sounds of trees knocking. What's out there now? Joel was asking the questions now, gesturing to the others, that this thing was getting hairy. Frank quickly passed Cassie some pants and shoes. Nolan and Quincy were recording the whole thing.

From the trees, a blood-curdling wail erupted from the forest, making all but Wendy feel their hair stand on end. The wailing made the entire rest of the forest deadly silence. The eerie quiet had everyone in the cabin on high alert. Only Wendy was calmly picking at her nails, while the fear of the situation washed over the rest of the group. What the fuck was that? Nolan spat out in fear as the man looked close to pissing himself from where Wendy was standing.

Argo-Pelder, wood devils, Nuklok, or hell, maybe Madlocks. There are a lot of what you could call Bigfoot tribes here in the Yukon. Nook-look is the largest, then the Eurylia and Madlocks, but they preferred the term Mungany. Wendy explained this before a second whale. now closer to the cabin, bellowed from the woodland. You five picked the worst time to come to this place. Wendy's voice was almost drowned out by a cold gust entering the cabin, and with the gust came the sounds of chanting and voices.

Nolan turned the camera to the window, there's movement coming from the trees and snow falling as a massive creature appeared from the tree line. The creature had to be thirty feet tall, with white fur covering most of its thin hunched body. Its head had the skull of a moose covering its face, and his mouth was full of black rotting fangs. As its massive antlers were approaching,

it broke branches and snow was falling to the ground. And Wendy waved at this massive beast. Part three. Why, Dad, I'll be there in a bit. Wendy called out as other monsters appeared. Wendy shut the door and returned to the couch and gestured to Cassie to sit. Now, let's get back to the interview. Wendy was acting casually about a band of monsters hanging out just outside the door.

Oh, um, why are those things outside? Is it because of you? Cassie asked. She had the feeling that Wendy was playing games with her and all of them. Yeah, it's as long as I'm in this cabin that you're safe. but you two have been busy haven't you wendy looked at Nolan and Quincy grinning at both of them I know you two were spying on me and Cassie naughty boys but you two were set in traps as well Wendy was jovial or was gleeful how would we have done that Nolan asked he was as nervous as Quincy both men now looking frightened well it shocked Cassie that they would spy on her but that shock became

anger. Both the men were terrified of the Wendigo sitting on the couch with that shit-eating grin on her face. The two looked to their fellow crew members, seeing that Frank was as furious as Cassie. The realization now that they were in deeper shit than they thirst fought. The shadows of the woods hid several creatures that adjoined the massive Wendigo. There was a group now standing in the woodline. They all had thick black hair on their upper body. leg and the head was slightly pointed at the back. Horse had a long beard that reached its waist and wore moose skin ankle-high boots,

a moose-skin loincloth with bone or flint knives on their belts, which made the creatures look more like cavemen than Bigfoot. There had to be more than a dozen of them. Primitive weapons, simple clouds whose large stones fixed to the end of a thick wooden shaft, and branches torn off trees heavy enough to kill a full-grown man with a little effort, All they had ancient spears, thick as a man's forearm, with points of wood and stone sharpened to a razor point. These were what were in the hands of these cave dwelling beasts. The last to appear was a windigo was gaunt and horribly emaciated,

with its ashy grey skin, making it look pale in the moonlight. More pale, long, bony arms with hands that were enormous, fingers tipped by sharp claws dragging on the ground and a large distended abdomen. while their arms and legs were long and slender and they all stood hunchbacked their skull-like faces had short strands of long stringy hair and sunken black eye sockets and mouths filled with long jagged teeth

they emitted audible raspy exhalations breath a cloud of frost mist before letting out a piercing scream to intimidate those around them Wendy was messing with her nails waiting to see what the humans were about to do. Joel headed to a massive trunk that they had with them. It's go time, people. Get your gear. We have masters to kill. Joel's words cut past the tension, snapping his crew out of their shock and fear.

Joel popped open the trunk, grabbing and tossing a bag at the rest of his crew. Frank's pack harmed him to the teeth. The hunting sword in his hand. going into the leather sheath on his side. The 36-inch-long, straight, single-edge, pointed blade sported a serrated saw edge on the back of the blade. The hilt featured a thin knucklebow to protect the fingers with a trigger to a small matchlocked pistol built into the hilt, with deep firing grooves cut into the fuller of the blade.

Hanging on a ring on his belt was a single-handed hatchet striking tool with a sharp blade on one side and a hammerhead on the other. The axe was simple on the surface, but Wendy had to guess several secrets were hidden within it. The shoulder holster Frank War had a pure combat knife attached. A broad leaf-shaped blade sharpened the full length on one side, and from the tip to half on the other side. Coded with a dull matte finish to prevent detection at night from stray reflections, the blade would be near invisible in the dark. A pistol was in a holster, and a gun.

a double-barreled shotgun was in his hand. Cassie and myself will take the windows covering any blind spots, Frank told Joel as he loaded around into the shotgun. Cassie had a sword on her too. A cutlass was on her hip, a short, thick, slightly curved blade, and a hilt that had a solid cup to protect the hand. On her ankle was an F.S. fighting knife

with a slender blade almost stiletto-like, a weapon optimized for thrusting. But Wendy was aware of the air. F.S. Knife's capability to inflict slash cuts to an opponent with its cutting edges. The brass oval crossguard, knurled pattern grip, and rounded ball pommel glinted dolly in the lights. The T. 92 on her hip, ready to be drawn, and next to her was a riot model Ithaca 37 shotgun with pistol grip and tactical sling. But the umbrella beside her shotgun stood out as odd for something to protect a person. We can handle them if Quincy

shooting hasn't got rusty and Nolan's traps actually work. Cassie hissed, still angry at the two men. Quincy sheathed the 25-inch short sword and a pair of brass knuckles in a holster on his belt beside his pistol on his hip. Two rifles were beside him. An Enfield L1A1 SLR rifle was by the window while a high-powered blazer sniper rifle was being mounted on a stand in front of the window facing where the Wendigo was. Almost said Nolan. You have those traps set you? Quincy asked, loading around into the chamber of the rifle. Well, they aren't close to them yet, but I have triggers ready for any that miss the traps I have set, Nolan explained,

with a trigger in his hands. Nolan was holding a short-bore spear in his hand, with two lugs on the spear socket behind the blade, with each lug a catch to hook an opponent's weapon, additionally acting as a barrier to prevent the spear from penetrating too deeply into the quarry where it might get stuck or break, and to stop an injured and furious target from working its way up the shaft of the spear to attack Nolan. The shaft itself was short, but there was a trigger by his hand, so Wendy was wary of that weapon. Nolan's Mark I trench knife rested comfortably in the sheath, his six-and-three-inch double-edged dagger blade with a black oxide finish, and the bronze handle had a chemically blackened finish too, with cast-spikes

on the bow of each knuckle. The spikes were intended to prevent an opponent from grabbing the knife hand as well as to provide a more concentrated striking surface when employed in hand-to-hand combat. This was a weapon not just for hand-to-hand combat, but stealth as well. Close to Nolan was a crude club made out of wood. Spikes nailed into the wood near the top and extended a couple of inches from the body. Six spikes, all evenly spaced around the circumference, with one size of all spike at the of the club, made to be lightweight, and to kill the brain of whatever Nolan sprung it out, without getting stuck in the skull. The rest of the club was wrapped in barbed wire, adding to its lethality. He had a cord-leather strap at the end of the club, and the pistol

on his belt, and the M-1-6-A-1 was hanging in front of him. Isn't that a little much? I mean, a spear and a club. Can you even handle all that? Cassie asked. Like the others, she knew that they were in for a long night. I can. We have God knows how many of those things out there. Nolan sounded like he was whining, like this was more of an annoyance than a life-threatening situation. Yeah, man up, Nolan. This is not your first rodeo.

Joel growled, marching toward Nolan and slapping him to get his head in the game. Joel's equipment looked more old-fashioned than the rest of the crew. His Barryknife looked right out of the Old West. It's coughing style, simple riveted wood handle, and brass guard and clip point hanging free. on his right side. The tomahawk was hanging on his left. A less than two-foot hickory shaft was simple with three feathers tied to a paracord lanyard just below the eye of the

tomahawk head. The blade of the tomahawk was around nine inches, had a spike on the back end. A bull whip wrapped around his shoulder. The whip was latched comfortably, holding the nine-foot throng of the whip. Frank noticed the whip didn't look like cowhide. It was named three trench knife on his leg, and the relatively narrow 6.75-inch bayonet-style spear-point blade with a three-and-a-half-inch secondary edge sat comfortably in its leather sheath. The simplified, grooved leather handle and the steel crossguard bent angular at one end to facilitate as a thumb-rest. A pair of revolvers on either side of him, adding to the pistol he was already carrying. A Winchester Model 70 was leaning on the chair as they were gearing up.

Hmm, is that a new whip? Frank asked. Yep, made of kangaroo hide. I thought it's better than the ox-hide one I had before. Joel confirmed, grabbing his Winchester. Joel looked outside. There had to be a good 20 to 30 yards between the cabin and the monsters at the woodline. Quincy set up his sniper rifle, his scope aimed at one of the creatures. We have about 20 of those fucking Bigfoot assholes out there.

Quincy said, cocking his rifle. The Wendigo walked forward a few steps and pointed at the cabin and roared. What they expected was a charging mass of black fur, but what happened next was pure silence. It was an unnatural silence

that had all of them apart from Wendy on high alert and on edge. It didn't matter. If this was your first time facing creatures of the forest or the hundredth time, this was the hardest part of the job. Anything could happen, but the five of them knew if they left the cabin, they were all dead, no question. Quincy was looking through his rifle scope.

He could see two of the nook look, both robust creatures armed to the teeth, like the crew. One was dragging a vicious-looking club, and had a primitive stone knife. The other had a simple bow with a quiver of arrows, which Quincy could clearly see. He never even saw the third ape man Toss the spear that was coming at him The stone blade of the spear missing the hunter Just grazing his cheek Leaving a nasty gash

And knocking Quincy to the ground He clutched the wound as blood pulled onto the floor The red liquid already staining it While Nolan and Cassie rushed to their partner Seeing him still moving and cursing at the pain And at the beast that it attacked him Quincy can you fight Cassie asked, her hand on his shoulder, her eyes focused on the spot where the spear had hit him.

Quincy nodded gingerly, got to his feet, grabbing the chair, holding onto it to gain his balance back. The wound on his face was still bleeding badly, and drops of blood were hitting the floor. He staggered towards his rifle, only to see a furry arm grabbing the weapon, dragging it out of the window. The sound of bending metal shattered the silence. as the nook-look twisted and bent Quincy's rifle into a twisted useless mess. Quincy was swearing in utter pain, seeing what was left of his weapon. Thankfully he had a second rifle, and in the echoes of his old master's words, the backup's never a bad thing to have.

This thought ran through his head while Quincy got into position, grabbing his other rifle, just as the sky rained spears and long primitive darts, piercing the windows and sticking to the side of the wall. In revenge, Quincy fired off three shots, killing two of the nook-look, including the one that had maimed him. This got the response the hunters were looking for. The nook-lok stopped wasting time and charged at the cabin, swinging their clubs and axes, roaring and bellowing in rage at their fallen tribesmen.

They were going to destroy that cabin, and they would feast on the men and use the women before you. beating them too. Nolan, Quincy and Joel provided long-range cover with their rifles, with Frank and Cassie handling the one that had gotten too close to the cabin. The plan was to rein a holy hell of bullets at the beasts, but when the five hunters pulled the trigger, what the fuck? Frank cursed, checking his shotgun, discovering the firing pin was missing. The others checked their guns, noticing they'd also lost their firing pins. What the hell happened to the firing pins?

Frank yelled, shaking his pistol, seeing that that firing pin was also missing. They tossed his pistol aside and drew his hatchet, preparing himself for a more close and personal fight than he or his crew had been banking on. The charging nook-look approaching the cabin was about halfway there now, when the front line stopped and wailed in pain,

fall into the ground, seeing one of their feet mangled and bloody. The foothold traps, and snares are cut into their flesh, making the leg useless, while others were disappearing, falling into trapping pits filled with spikes, killing those that fell in, or pinning them to a spot to be picked off by the hunters. But the traps could only take out so many of these ape-men. Those that didn't trigger the traps had made their way to the cabin now. The first of the nook-look, bashing through the wall, winding up to swing at the first person they saw.

but they were met with the business end of Cassie's cutlets, the unmistakable twang of steel hitting bone and the wet squelching sound as Cassie cut into the Beastman's collar bone with ease. This was repeated by each one of the crew, followed by the whales and yelps of the nookluck who entered the cabin. This action of picking off a few at a time, only without firearms, wouldn't last much longer, and going outside would be a death sentence.

Frank looked at the last spot he'd seen Wendy in and noticed she had disappeared the realization had dawned on all of them they got played for fools and were now in the middle of a goddamn feeding frenzy there was no way of telling how many were still out there but they would soon have to face that unavoidable fact Quincy charged towards a window

his sword aimed at cutting down the oncoming nook-lop When a massive hand splintered the wood, the black fur covered arms reached in for whatever they could find. And the one that got caught was Quincy. His short saw glistened with the blood of the nook, with the intense rush of flying through the air, followed by the pain of his body striking a tree. The impact shook Quincy to the core. Hitting the tree made the sword in his hand drop to the snow. sticking to the ground next to the crumpled heap that was his body.

The nook-lock started closing the distance between it and Quincy. Quincy stirred, gingerly getting to his feet, his shaky hand grasping for his sword. The noog-lug charged Quincy with its massive bulk, and the ape-man rammed him into the tree with the back of his hand. The anguish Quincy felt was unbearable. No, he would not lay down and die in front of this monster. So Quincy stood his ground, his leg shaking for the damage he'd sustain. Sword held out at the ready, his other hand filled with the bayonet that was previously on his side,

with the sharp point of the bayonet facing the ground in a reverse grip. Nook-look was dragging a massive club, taking a huge swing but hitting nothing but air and the tree that was behind Quincy. While the nookluck had swung and mist, Quincy made a few slashes on the belly and torso of the ape-man. Blood and viscera spilled to the ground, painting the snow in a dark crimson as the nookluck fell to the ground in front of Quincy. But the hunter had no time to reflect on what he'd done, as before long a band of the beasts charged from the woodline, weapons brandished, their faces twisted into terrifying visages of murderous intent. Quincy knew he was facing certain death, but he would not die without taking some of these monsters with him. In the end, Quincy now battered and broken. His bayonet stuck in the skull of one of the nook-locks, and his sword never leaving his hand.

He sat now in the snow. The smell of blood filled the chilled air, but it didn't take long for the cold, rusty smell of blood to be replaced by the pungent smell of something else. Something that told Quincy that he didn't have to look up to know that the windergo was standing there, and that hot, rotten breath was on him, and here he was, facing death. He couldn't fight back, so he spat at the Wendigo in an irrevocable act of defiance, before the Wendigo rushed him and began tearing him apart. Well, the blood-curdling scream coming from Quincy, and hearing the wet squelching sound of feeding,

made the level of danger outside clear. Outside was the kiss of death. But it was also becoming clear that the cabin was not safe for much longer. The nook were only here to weaken them, to chip away at their defences and their sanity. Gassie was losing her nerve, her hands shaking, making the cutless rattle. Joel was hiding the fear that was bubbling in his guts.

His expression remained like something. stone. How were they going to do this, he thought, as he looked towards Frank. Frank looked terrified, and his eyes were shifting to the window. The nook-look had surrounded the cabin. Their screams were bone-chilling, the rattling of their weapons and act of intimidation in the chilly night air. Every nook-look was silent now, standing like a soldier, awaiting the orders of their master. Joel, Nolan, Frank and Cassie quickly moved. to the center of the cabin, pressing their backs against each other. What the fuck are they waiting for?

Cassie whispered nervously. I think they're waiting for something, Frank said. His hand gripping his axe now, his knuckles white with how hard he was handling this weapon. Nolan and Joel remained quiet. Neither of them knowing what would happen, but that this could be the end of them. Both men suddenly felt white, hot pain hid them. Nolan was bleeding from his leg while for Joel it was his arm, making him drop his bowie knife. The blood was dripping off a crudely made knife, a sharpen piece of metal attached to a part of a human jawbone,

put together via a piece of string from an animal gun. The hand that held this knife was thin. The skin was pale as if the one holding the knife hadn't seen the sun in the ears. The hand was more frightening with its razor-sharp claws than the knife ever could. when the fore looked at the figure that was in front of them, they saw it was Wendy, and she was smiling. Now, more like her true nature, Wendy was looking thinner than before,

and her smile was even more terrifying, now with her teeth becoming sharper and disfigured, but she hadn't fully transformed, but it had changed her enough to make the image burn into the hunter's mind. She'd be more dangerous now than she was before. Her hair looked dead and her skin was even pale of them before. A long claw-like finger wiped the blood off the knife, and she licked that same finger.

Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head, with how nice the blood tasted. Eh, not bad, but not the best. Wendy said, her voice was now more animalistic than it had been before. She was utterly terrifying, and each one of them knew that they would have to kill her, to have any chance of survival tonight.

Two other Wendigoths waited outside. Well, the four of them weren't fools. They were trapped, and they knew there was only one way out. Joel picked up his bowie knife and looked at Wendy.

You knew we were hunters that planned this, he inquired. Wendy shook her head. You're right on one thing. I knew you five were hunters, though posing as a documentary crew. It was a nice touch, I'll give you that, she said, impressed by what the band of hunters had done. But you had to be nosy here, kill some of my friends.

I made it easy to figure out what you were. So it was you who sabotaged our guns, Nolan accused her, quilling his fear for a moment. But the fire was snuffed out of his anger, with Wendy merely smiling a sick, twisted smile at him. But Quincy's rifle? Well, I didn't do that directly, but the townspeople here aren't their most trusting of sorts. All they had to do was wait. You thought it was smite to heart them in that trunk. Fool, Wendy said, shrugging.

We had to leave one alone for beneficial effects, that you all didn't check your own guns. Wendy said, You've dug your grave. Now lay in it. her tone was now sober she grabbed the air and made a pulling motion summoning a large Viking axe so who's first she asked that sinister smile back on her face first Nolan was the first to speak he stepped up while the others watched their lines of sight Nolan? You sure about this? That look in her eyes says she isn't playing. She's serious.

Cassie asked. Her voice low, glancing looks to her friend. Her anger from earlier gone. Yeah, I'm sure you three can get out of her well. I keep her busy. Nolan whispered back, a hand gesturing for the other three to run. Yeah, fat chance of escape. The nook look had been ordered to kill anyone. that's not myself or the other three that will join us. Wendy said, her form human once more, her frame leaning against her axe,

making her body curved deliciously. The four hunters said nothing, but their dread was washing over them once more. Three people then walked in. Doc Long Shadow, holding the moose skull. Bobby the preferred Hick from the bar, and Liz, dog's assistant. Now pick your poison, Wendy said.

said, gesturing her hand, one of the three who'd walked in. Nolan sized up the three, rolled his shoulders, and lifted his spear, pointed it at Liz's smile, which was wide, wider than a normal person should have, with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. All Nolan fought hard, but Liz was too much for the man, even with his spear. The spear lay broken. with his spear lay broken next to his now half-devoured body. Well, Joel fair better, but against Doc, the hunter ended up with a gun-stock club to the gut, and Doc being a mean bastard, was letting him bleed out.

Well, Cassie could have had a far worse fate, if Wendy hadn't shown mercy, killing her, and Bobby, too, that man trying to satisfy his lust, not hunger. Bobby took the trench club belonging to Nolan and used the club brutally relishing his time with Cassie much to Wendy's disgust before the last straw was seeing a beaten Cassie helpless, almost being raped by Bonnie and Wendy wouldn't stand for that

Bobby was soon a dead corpse in the corner with the marks of a bullet wound on his forehead Cassie had died from her injuries but she wasn't being eaten. That's because Frank was the last man standing. He stood between Cassie's body and the monsters before him. A lot of his axe was smoking, but he pushed the head off of his axe,

hiding the firing mechanism. He was looking now at Wendy. Why? he asked, unsheathing the hunting sword, and cocking the gun attached to it. He wanted to see every single one of them dead and their heads on a sponge. You hunters, you and your people have hunted and destroyed my people.

Well, that's what I'd like to say, but honestly, you just had the worst timing to come after a village of man-eaters. Wendy's answer was a little disappointing, mainly for the hunters and their lack of preparation. Their traps around the cabin had been lackluster, and the security in the cabin was laughable, with only Frank having a working fire-up. Joel was spitting out blood, his body feeling every agonizing movement as he got up into a sitting position. Frank, kill them, do you? Joel started growling at Frank but got cut short. There's a fresh wave of hot pain overtook him, the handle of a knife in his shoulder.

That's enough out of you, Hunt. Wendy said coldly, and then turned her attention back towards Frank. "'You think you can escape from here, hunter?' she asked. "'Every step she did, avoiding Frank's swings of his axe and swords. "'Frank took the last swing of his axe to meet Wendy's claw to his neck, "'killing him, the wet, warm feeling of his blood, "'pouring over Wendy's hand, making her heart race from hunger and her mouth water. "'Without a second thought, Wendy sank her jagged fangs into Frank's cheek

"'with a loud, sickening crunch. The five hunters were now dead and gone And after Wendy finished feeding on Frank She took the time to go for a shower Passing Doc and hugging him It was good to see you Dad This was fun She said giving Doc a hug

It was good to see you too child How is Harry That boy hasn't been here in a while Doc asked letting Wendy go He'll be here tonight He had business to tend to Wendy said before heading to the shower. It didn't take a long to wash the blood off the body.

After a good shower, she got to change of clothes when her phone rang. Exile repair. We fix everything from wrecks to relationships. How can I help you? Wendigo Nation. Clementine's Folly. And I can excavate in form of mine to automata. and his daughter,

the year 1905. Luke hoft and puffed his way down to where his team had hidden their raft at the trailheads. He had to get away from the whispers, the wails and cries in the night, from the blood and the constant fear of death stalking the forest. No matter how rich the strike, it wasn't worth his life. The first he and his partners have been able to ride off the noises

as wind in the trees and rocks Then wild animals But then Lost souls Francois was on night watch The night after Big Ed saw the apparition When Ed claimed I seen some sort of pale

Skinny's, balky thing in the trees That was way too tall for any man or beast Frank had been the only one with the temerity to laugh off the tail. Ah, big ad, probably dreaming, eh? Thinking about some tall, skinny women all pale in the moonlight. Maybe you saw some kind of lup guru, no. Big ad bristled, and no one with sense

would prod too hard of the large, rough-cut character, though it was questionable how much sense Francois possessed. Look, old friend, all of you. I don't lie, I don't dream. ain't got that kind of imagination know-how. I've seen what I've seen, but I don't rightly know for sure what it was.

Could have been a spook or roo-roo. No idea. So, what do you want? I'm keeping my rifle and my blades to hand. He glared first at Frank and then at the others to determine whether anyone else wanted to have fun at his expense. They apparently did not. Francois simply shrugged and walked toward the entrance to their cave to assume his post.

They'd taken to staying inside the front part of the cavern rather than the outside in tents. It was better shelter. They needed some time to ensure that it was a rich vein, not just a few striations. They'd also decided to gather a fair share for themselves. Might as well take home a small fortune in case they were cheated or ran afoul of robbers or met with some other misfortune that had taken the last. lives of so many others who'd sought wealth in the vast empty spaces of the Klondike. More things considered, it was probably a good idea to take guard duty in terms.

There were six of them, so it worked out well. Half a night's loss of sleep every third night, with a small price to pay to sleep well the rest of the time. Francois shook his head at the memory of the account by the decent but poorly educated man from south of the border. Louisiana, he claimed, and his angry diatribe about, spooks and roo-go-roos out in the woods. His shift was more than half over,

so he'd be able to sleep soon, when his relief Charlie assumed the role. He started, and his heart patted savagely when he heard a screeching whale out in the trees, but far too close for comfort. It could have been an owl, but the tones were deep and harsh and contained elements of longing and hunger,

a hint of bloodlust. they spoke as something fowler and more dreadful than anything in the natural world. A low hum started and rose in volume, a chance, disturbing and mesmerizing all at once. Then a woman's voice. Coma! Coma with me! I tell you, Frank never even tried to wait me. I drank some extra coffee, so I'd be sure to be awake for my watch, but I still slept an extra couple of hours. when I awakened Frank was

He was gone Charlie, the other geologist besides Luke shook his head and wore an expression of curiosity mingled with fear I reckon he just stepped out maybe something got him maybe a bear of some wolves Luke the leader of the expedition nodded

ah well no point in stumbling around in the dark as soon as it gets near dawn wait the rest of the crew we'll eat and at first light make a search. As the first rays of the sun illuminated the area around the entrance to the cavern, Luke gathered the remaining members of the party. George, you're our best tracker. You want to take a look before we go traipsing around and messing up the signs?

George, a compact taciturn man, nodded and proceeded to study what signs were available in the hard surfaces in front of the cave mouth and the soft loam beneath the trees. Once out among the trees, he began to look in earnest to either side of the trail they'd worn for themselves. Presently, he returned and reported. Not much. Ground's too hard, and the forest floor is soft, but mostly dry needles.

Few scuffs on either side of the trail. Definitely more than one person walked out that way. Maybe a trail that leads off toward the overlook we found above the cabin. Just a few prints in the needles. They ran deep like someone else. or something carrying a heavy load. Luke, George and Big Ed set out to look for their missing companion. Charlie and Bob remained behind to watch the camp

and to be ready in case Francois returned on his own. The trio of trackers ranged for a few miles before George called a halt. Look, we've been on rocks for a while. Even full-blooded engines can't track over this stuff. Unless we find a sign, you know, something someone dropped. He stopped and followed Ed's normally vacant gaze, now squinted in concentration on a small boulder. On it, folded neatly,

were a bright red scarf and matching stocking cap. Hmm, them was friends. Big Ed mumbled unnecessarily. They continued their search but found no other clues. By late afternoon, Luke called a halt to the effort, and they returned to base camp empty-handed. That evening over supper, they decided to double the watch. Big Ed and George were tired but excited by the day-long search, so they took first watch.

They didn't talk much. It was against George's nature, and Big Ed just didn't have much to say. They both sat quietly, looking into the small fire they lit in case Frank was out in the dark and lost. Help! Come! Help! Help! Frank's voice emanated from this stiggy and gloom, now enhanced by the loss of their night vision from staring into the flames. Big Ed rose precipitously, the way he did most things.

He grasped his twin knives in his hands and stared around blankly. George stayed down low and gripped his rifle. "'Him, I think that was Frank?' head rumbled. Sounded funny, like maybe he was hurt. George nodded, though. Ed wasn't looking at him to see. I don't know. The voice interrupted them. Calm. Need hail.

True to his nature, Big Ed charged precipitously toward the sound. George caught out to stop him, but the large man was already dodging his way among the trees into the deep murk of the forests. George followed for a few paces and then realized he would never find even so large a man as Ed under the circumstances, so he settled for waking Luke and the others. Edran and dodged and did his best to listen. Eventually he caught out. Frank, that you? Where are you at Frank? He was rewarded with only

the sound of his ragged breathing in the cold night air. His vision had returned a little, and the half-moon light penetrated into a small space between the fir branches, not quite large enough to be called a clearing. Through a gap in the trees, he saw movement. It was stiff-jointed, all angles and rail-thin limbs. He made out a wide spread of anus, an elongated and twisted countenance full of hatred for life and lust for dead flesh. All that head rose and rose more to an impossible height. The gaunt and pallid apparitioned. turned his gaze upon him, and Big Ed Toots. He'd been hiding here in the wild for killing a man with his knives.

Toughest of a rough crew, but fainted dead away from fear. The last sound he heard was startled laughter coming from either side of his recumbent body. Hmm, George growled. Definitely big Ed's tracks and looks like he hid the ground. Little dirt to the outlying where his head rested. And there, the dirt is.

mostly covers it but that's blood they searched further but if there were more signs they'd been deliberately obliterated Luke gathered the remaining crew near the blood-stained patch of ground we have to go no idea who or what's hunting us but they've managed to take out our two biggest and meanest what do you say boys the agreement was unanimous and enthusiastic Charlie spoke up I say we get back to camp and gather what we can. Besides, Bob's on his own. If we are being hunted,

they hurry back as best they could. There was no sign of Bob, though. He'd packed up his gear and had it ready to go. Apparently he'd come to the same conclusion about leaving as they had, all on his own. Then he'd, just as apparently left, only not on his own. A smear of bright blood that ended in a crimson handprint on the wall.

next to the entrance of the cavern spoke to his fate they loaded minimal gear and maximum goals they unashamedly took the shares of the three missing prospectors and divided them up as evenly as possible the missing man will be unlikely to need the treasure and it had already been extracted so it got dark before they completed the trek to the river they found a nice campsite with a rocky outcrop that would protect them from behind Luke suggested that they take watch in twos, with him on a long shift that would overlap the other two watches during the deep part of the night. The tired campers were soon snoozing, whether on watch or not.

Hurd, I need help. Bob's voice awaking the trio. The sound came from below, toward the river. The man looked at one another in fright. Was that really, Bob? George asked. strange, maybe kind of hungry. Charlie shuddered and then sat shivering and frozen in place.

Luke gave the order. Everybody stayed put. I don't think that's Bob. I think it's whatever's been luring us into the woods. He eased back the hammer on his old Winchester 73, a yellow boy rifle that it belonged to his

father. I think that we're all on wash until dawn. Charlie Charlie, you're right Charlie started when Luke repeated his name He looked at him as though he was a stranger Then looked at George in a similar manner

He gazed all around Into the encroaching darkness He bowed his head and shook it And then mumbled I don't think I'll ever be right again Help Come help The voice rose in volume and pitch

and a rhythmic chanting, initially almost inaudible, ensued. Eventually, whales penetrated the air to punctuate the rising tide of the quasi-tune. Moans and whispers spoke of hunger and need of empty bellies and soulless plight. Charlie bolted upright and scrambled to his feet.

Before Lucor George could stop him, he ran out into the dark, screaming, Stop it, stop it, stop! His last cry was cut short by a wet, crunching sound and a whining whimper, with a hint of a bubbling whistle as he expelled oxygen from an open wound in his airway. The sound ceased abruptly. They were replaced by odd murmurs beyond the feeble light of their watchfire. Then a roar burst from above them, over the top of the rocky outcrop. The two surviving prospectors rose and bolted together.

down the mountainside towards the river. Luke looked back as they left the circle of light I thought he saw a large silhouette of a bullet-shaped head that rested directly on a pair of impossibly broad shoulders as it rose above the outcrum.

He fled away into the forest and did his best to keep up with George who was more experienced at moving in deep woodlands. They ran past several figures in the night, one of which was of gargantuan height, but thin in a way that bespoke the grave.

His pale outline nearly gloved. Then the men heard a gut-wrenching sound, followed by a rumble that issued from above and behind. Avalanche! Luke jinked hard to the left, while George continued to run all out straight ahead and away from his companion in the falling rocks. The sounds of tumbling boulders and all,

two human screams of fear and pain, storm quickly after him. Luke found a tree that had fortuitously fallen up slope during some long-ago storm and dove into the hollow of the root-ball. The rumble of the tumbling boulders and other detritus swept up in the rock slide, evolving into a roar, and he choked on dust and felt the sting of gravel as most of it pounded down slope on either side of his shelter. One large stone careened off the old tree trunk and sailed over his head and body to land just a few feet down slope. Once it had all settled, the entire mess resolved into a field of boulders and rocks sprawled among the verdure of the lower slopes. He didn't look for George. Even a swift man

could not outrun nature in the form of rolling stones. Some other entity, large and fierce, possibly prayerfully benevolent had started the slide and interrupted the evil spirits that had set up down slope with their murderous plots. Luke decided right then that he'd be back. He still held the nuggets in his pack, perhaps enough to start or buy into a mining company. He'd have to get back to Whitehorse to file his claim,

a trek he would have to make on his own once he'd cross the wide water of the Yukon River. the year 1908. That she was, like a fairy and her shoes were number nine. Herring boxes without taxes, samples were

for Clementine. Flynn, the fiddler, sought on his eponymous instrument and warbled out the darkly humorous tune he thought so fit for the setting. After all, the mine company was called Clementine's Folly. the mind itself was set in a hollow with a drop-off from the mountain rather than in a canyon.

The hollow was like a large dent in the mountain, like a titanic fist had struck the slope and then poked a finger into the surface at the deepest point. Apropos for the song nonetheless, and there was a nice cavern instead of a mere shaft. Not much by the way of an audience or prosperity in his current location. He was surrounded by miners rather than prospectors. but he was far away from the long arm of the RCMP, which was all to the good in his estimation. Likely, many of his companions were here in this remote camp for similar reasons.

In any case, he was on his way to Alaska. Might as well change countries. He'd be no loss to Canada. The Klondike Goldrush was coming to a close as a new century dawned. But there was a nice vein nearby, discovered a few years earlier. Not by the romanticised single old coup with a lone donkey, but by a small company of prospectors, at least a couple of whom had some grasp of geology. Flynn wondered why they look here, though. Very remote and, well, not far from the river, it was still a random selection in the wide, wild map of the great northwest.

Yet it was not his worry. People in this type of settlement did not care for people asking too many questions, and a poking nose could be severed. Oh, my voice is already nasally enough. He smiled to himself. Not that these folks were choosy. A dozen or so customers sat scattered around the little saloon building. Whispering Pines Tavern,

a sign pretentiously proclaimed from the plank that rested on two empty barrels and made up the surface of the bar. The establishment's owner, Claude, had informed him that the plank had been the city sign on what was now a ghost town from a boom town that had gone bust when their local mine had stopped producing. It had been incorporated into a sledge and then repurposed for a bar top on which he added the word tavern. The plan had travelled from wherever it had been felled, to the mill, to a town, then to a jury-rig sled maker, then up this little mountain, quite a journey for an old

noddy pine. He felt that it served its purpose nicely and was sure that its final service would be to feed the fire in the central hearth of the little saloon. Flynn told the story to himself in more poetic terms than Claude had rendered it, to make it memorable. He saw the door to the back room swing open and a grinning miner emerged, followed quickly and quietly by a young woman, girl really, of the First Nations, possibly a kuchin or a horn. She shuffled over to Claude at the bar and spoke with him. Flynn knew that this was to determine whom she would service next, and to ensure that Claude had the money before she escorted the next John into the back room. Four women had to service around 50 miners. Claude liked to say that the fifth hole that made

it ten to one was the mine itself. Luke Preston, the owner-manager of the mine operation, kept promising to bring in more women, but the mine kept everyone busy enough. The locals probably wouldn't like the way their women were used, but other than these four, Flynn hadn't seen any native people in the vicinity. Strange. The first big storm of the season struck before Flynn managed to clear out and head back to civilization. So he now sat in the warmest building.

The gathering hall slash office slash church slash quarter. for Luke. Well, it wasn't much larger than the saloon, but contained only one room and log benches, although one corner was covered by a hanging curtain. Luke stood at the front of the room. All right, folks, we're getting to a point where we'll need more equipment. The main vein looks like it may go on for quite a piece. Plenty for us all to be wealthy. However, we have to survive the coming winter. We've laid in a good supply of food and drug. dry goods and ammunition with which to hunt. Plenty of blankets and furs and boots.

Look out for one another and, uh... He paused and his gaze went distant for a moment. And, uh, don't go chasing out into the forest if you hear queer sounds or, um, voices. There was a general questioning rabble of comments and questions, and he held up his hands for silence. Yeah, the wind makes some crazy odd sounds. They can fool you, like a mirage in a desert. The nightbirds are strange, too.

I haven't told this tale often. The team I led to look into this cavern was, well, we had some misadventures and they were killed, including my business partner, Charlie Le Penne. We were down on our luck prospectors, too late to the dance for the Klondack rush, but we ran across an old kitchen down in Whitehorse. He told us about a home.

haunted mountain that was full of gold. For a bottle of whiskey, he went from giving us dire warnings to giving us directions on how to find the place. Once I got the mining company started, I bought his daughters, so he was able to achieve his lifelong gold and drink himself to death.

Oh, you might have noticed that the sweet ducklings who work at the tavern really stray beyond the outhouses. They're terrified of the trees. So, just please stay around camp as much as you can there are definitely bears wolves of mountain lions and that's enough to keep anyone in camp

and they make some pretty odd noises as well the supply team will head up river for the additional gear as soon as the storm abates they should be able to make it back before the next snow arrives we'll be in our little camp and our cavern for a long winter that will end with us all bathing in wealth come spring For those last few of you to arrive, the settlement and the corporation is called Clementine's Folly. It was going to be called Clementine's reward, but, well, after Charlie and the others, it seemed like we'd invited ill luck on her endeavors.

So a less happy sounding name was in order. Rochey ducklings to the water, every morning just at night, struck her foot against a splinter, fell into the foaming bride. When he scrubbed her sister Dotty's back, their sisters had already bathed. They used the same tub and the water, cool to a little below tepid. It took a great deal of effort to bring in the water,

heat it and transport it to the tub. Yet Claude insisted that they wash themselves, at least the important parts, each day, so that they would be fresh and disease-free for the miners, and of course for himself. the young women shared the work as they shared the burden of their primary trade Claude gave them a fair amount of food and ensured that they had what care he could provide with the promise of severance pay when the mine ran out of gold

there were worse patrons their father had been one such before he'd fallen so far into the depth of alcoholism he taught them about their people and customs and legends they knew that the place in which they'd found themselves was cursed, haunted by an ancient and evil set of spirits, the Wendigo, who'd started life as human cannibals. They rarely ventured outdoors and never alone. Besides the supernatural fears, they were each concerned that they would be accosted by the miners. While inside the tavern, the men behave themselves or faced Claude's considerable wrath, soon to be followed with the firing by

Mr. Preston. Get outdoors, with no witnesses. There was no one to take their part. It was a boring existence, and being cooped up all the time led to thoughts of wandering, or leaving this lonely an awful place full of ragged, dirty strangers

who only wanted to use them. After her own bath, Winnie took a moment to slip outside and just around the corner to watch the first flakes of snow drift to the ground in the freshening breeze. The cold air gave her a slight shiver and led her to nostalgic thoughts of her childhood, when her mother still lived, and her father lived outside the bottle.

She heard whistling out among the trees, not the distinct call of birds, but rather a breathy, mournful sound. He soon turned to a light, almost inaudible chant, and then evolved into something coherent. Come, child! Well, Winnie started when she realized that she'd heard actual words, inserted into the pauses in the chanting. Calm! The voice, a woman's, rattled in her senses. Her shivers turned to shudders of horror.

This had to be a spirit, and if it was, it had to be evil since it was in this place. She started to turn To rush back inside to the comfort of her sisters And the warmth of the central half-fire Yet there was a longing in the sounds That wafted among the ever-thickening snowfall A miserable loneliness that echoed her own Sweet child

Come The voice entreated At last she did She took a few hesitant steps forward, down the short lane between the last few tank cabins in this part of the encampment. She'd be fine here, among others, even though they were unseen and mostly unheard, as they sheltered in their little dwellings. The wind increased. She knew that soon Dottie or one of her other sisters, Nana or Nakhka, would come out and call her back inside, back to the

miseries and the dirty men. The voice had begun to sound like a much nicer option, a comforting presence that sounded so much like... Mother! Yes, that was Mother calling. It had to be. No one else would care enough to come for her. Yes, sweet child, come. The voice penetrated the new whistles of wind that now accompanied the eerie, whispering trills that had first caught her. attention. She was now past the last of the structures made by the outsiders. She was under the welcoming trees. She was inside the forest of fear that felt like, well, like hope. Ruby lips above the water blowing bubble, soft and fine. But alas, I was no swimmer, so I lost my

Clementine. We got to find her. She's outside in the snow. I looked in the outhouse. She ain't there. I saw some tracks heading out to the woods. The snow is getting bad. She'll get lost.

Dotty entreated her sisters. Nana looked at her head in annoyance. Winnie is always getting stupid notions. But even she ain't stupid enough to walk off into the trees when a storm's starting. She's probably with one of the miners. Maybe they offered her a nugget. or she took a shine to one well they took a shine

to her our car giggled that's true few of them are decent enough not just bugging ponies in the sack some even washed themselves totty assumed a worried expression we gotta tell claude

he'll help he don't want nothing to happen to us especially winning she's his favourite Nana's expression soured further Now listen, Fool girl, we don't want Claude to get upset.

He's promised us that when the mind plays out, he'll give us a cut and we can go on our way, free and clear. Winnie's flighty, but she ain't stupid. She'll just have to work harder until the snow stops. She can make it up to us by taking on some of the rougher men tomorrow. Winnie had followed the voice until the camp disappeared from view behind her. And then she saw it.

the towering presence, all spikes and antlers, the elongated features loomed towards her, and the mouth gaped open. A hideous wail issued from the depths of that orifice as bony hands seized her from either side in a filthy palm settled over her mouth. They lifted her as she thrashed and struggled to free herself, or at least break free long enough to scream for help. yet those bony hands were many and strong she lost track of time and sank into a miserable stupor she felt warmth and her head cleared enough to take in her surroundings faces surrounded her both male and female a few wore disturbing grins full of filed fangs that bespoke foul appetites they stank and many of the eyes rolled in a madness eventually a male tall of them the restanked and many of the eyes rolled in a madness eventually a male tall of them the restful approached and yelled at them. His language was clearly related to her own as well as English and French, though he spoke in a nearly unintelligible manner. He loomed above her and pounded his chest. Nook charl. That was her introduction to her new mates, the leader of this faction of the tribe with a name none of her people would willingly speak. Wendigo. Where's your sister at? Where's Winnie?

Lord menaced Dotty, upset with a silence from her sisters and her. I don't know. We looked for her when the snow started, but we couldn't find her. Dotty stammered, and her sisters looked around in panic, huddled on the edge of the cot nearest the main room. If you told me, I could have taken some men and gone out to find her. Now the storm is dumping snow. Who knows for how long?

He shook his head. We got men lined up, ready to go, and only the three of you. you can take care of them. He looked at each of them in the eyes in turn and then shouted, Get to it, you lazy slabs. The snow was early in the season, and not too deep once it had stopped falling by noon on the following day. Claude, true to his word, took two of the campmen who typically hunted to supply meat for the denizens of Clementine's folly and struck out into the forest. Doddy had wanted to go. She pointed out the last known direction of travel for Winnie,

yet Claude had told her to stay put before he'd tramped out to look for her favourite sister, the only one who cared about her in this world. Claude, a determined look on his face, called his companions to notice. See here, tracks. They lead towards, well, deeper into the trees. It gets pretty dark in there.

The hunters agreed, and they decided to take out their firearms in preparation for action should the need arise. They continued their trek, which led, along a circuitous route, toward the same area as the cavern entrance of the mine through the ever-darkening shade of the forest. None of them commented that the snow had fallen after the girl had left the camp and would have covered her tracks. Presently, Boudreau, a large man who favoured a bright Voyageur's camp, grunted, something out there hey he stared ahead and used a flick of his chin to indicate the direction of the something his partner tibedo shortly added anilus what kind of he cut off when he saw what lay beneath the annlers the long distorted face that rose well above the ground and the bony spiky body that worked in ways that were wrong Oh, myrd! Claude registered the apparition as well.

He was much less familiar with the wild places than the hunters, so it took longer to comprehend it as a threat. To their right, a long, loud mournful wail, full of pain and bloodlust erupted and attracted their attention. It was followed by a breathy plea. Help! Come! Help!

Help! That was Winnie. Claude exclaimed and took several steps towards the calling voice. Budrow and Tibado called out as one. Stop. And Budroo added, it's not her. Claude continued to look toward the point from which the voice had initiated. I don't see it.

He was interrupted by the female voice once more. Help! Need help, now. He chubbed. Gards forth into the heavy foliage and called, "'Winny, I'm coming, girl.' Boudraud chanced a look at where he and his partner had observed the strange being. It was no longer present.

He nudged his partner. "'Come on, let's catch the fool.' Claude rushed forward and continued to call. He caught a glimpse of a pale figure to one side of his path and paused. "'Winny, that you?' He felt the hard impact on the back of his skull, and then secondary impact from when he landed on the snow-cover ground. But afterwards, he felt nothing more. Tibido called to his friends.

Boo, not so fast. We need to stop and listen. Budroo complied. They stopped and strained to hear whatever they could. They'd strayed near a rocky outcrum. I think we're near the cavern. had it unnecessarily, at least if we followed the rock wall. He froze and from behind them came the call of their former companion, Claude. Help! Come help! Hurt! The voice trailed off as if it had run out of breath. That voice, so full of distress and hunger, of need.

Tibado began to walk toward the voice. "'Glor, come to Arce, you hear me?' A moaning wail echoed from the rock face and then a disquieting silence set in around the men. After a moment alone, chanting began, just on the edge of the hearing, rhythmic, filled with enticing female voices. Boudreau cleared his throat and looked in the direction of the cavern.

I think we should go to the man. Luke will be there. We can get more men, huh? He turned his head back to see his friend disappear into the trees along the trail they followed. Tibby, where are you going? He called fruitlessly. The man kept walking, as though in a trance. He looked down and shook his head in frustration.

Come back. His call was interrupted by a choking noise from up ahead. a squeaking exhale as if Tibadov's throat was constricted. A sharp-blooded point erupted from the back of the man's neck, accompanied by a small spray of blood. Budrault stepped forward. He raised his rifle as he did so, and yet he stopped abruptly. There was nothing he could do for his friend, he reasoned, so he turned to race toward the mind, only to feel an intense pain as a sharp object entered his guts and began to.

a twist and wrench. He grunted blood onto the rocks near his feet. A pale, spiky being stood before him. It lowered the butt of the spirit, plunged into him, so that his blood trickled back along the shaft.

Then he bent forward and licked the hot crimson liquid from the wood. The face smiled up at him. The teeth filed into a moorful of fangs, and now tinged with his lifeblood. He felt the rifle slide from his weakened grip and sensed the ground rushing toward him.

It took him a long time to die, but he was never able to scream. And the minor, 49a soon began to be confined. Forty daughter, join his daughter, now is with his clamin' time. Winnie looked up hopefully when the hunters returned. It was cold and she was hungry, as were all those who awaited the meat-pringers. Yet she recoiled in disgust when she saw what they carried into the camp that was sat just inside a cave and concealed by hides and brush. The rest of the tribe enthusiastically greeted the food and those who bore it.

She recognized the corpses of the two mining camp hunters as a large part of the coming feast, and her heart lurched. It sank when she saw Budro's features, twisted in agony and set for all time. And then she saw clawed, his skull shattered and his face frozen in surprise. She turned away and heaved as her gorge rose. Instead of sympathy,

she noted curled lips of contempt and resentment. Who was this girl to vomit at the side of our favourite food? Their expressions read. As she recovered and looked up in fear, the fist of her new mate slammed into her cheek and knocked her to the ground. Once she recovered, a pair of the older women gathered her and forced her to help with removing the clothing and gear from the cadavers, and then butchering and cooking the men.

By the time the meal was served, enough of her mind had shattered to allow her to eat. Doddy waited anxiously for Claude and the hunters to return, But the end of the next minor shift came, and they still had not appeared, and of course Winnie was long gone. Nana shook her by the shoulder. Get up and get ready, girl. The men will be here soon. You and Naka will have to take care of them.

Claude's still gone, so I'll work the bar. Toddy looked around, barely conscious of the men who crowded into the saloon. There were a few rumbles when they noted Claude was absent, and a few more when Nana informed them that he was out with a pair of hunters to look for winning. The gossip and discussion that followed ensured that Dotty and Nakhah had a slow night, at least until Roberts, one of the other hunters, pushed Nana up against the wall behind the bar and shook her. We're a Boudreau and Tibado. You say they left with Clair to look for your sister. Tell me all that you know. Billings, the last of the quartet that supplied fresh game to the camp,

watched to ensure that no one in the group of off-duty miners wanted to interfere with Roberts and his prey. Flynn knew better than to intervene or even pause his current ballad, so the tableau unfolded to the tune of the Leaving of Liverpool. Like Clementine, it contained sad but sometimes humorous lyrics, was set to a lilting tune that was perfect for his fiddle. Flynn knew that lost and fear of harm went hand in hand with the need for an uplifted heart, as what came through a smile. Part of his mind was intrigued.

He'd heard other rumours of folks going missing, assumed to abandon the camp and the arduous work of mining. None are stood defiant. I don't know where they're at, just that they went to look for Winnie. It ain't been that long. Maybe they got stuck out in the snow. Roberts leaned in closer to terrorise the girl. He stared into her eyes and his hot breath,

rank with rotten food between the teeth spilled into her face his eyes were red rimmed with too much drink from the previous nights he was one of what she and her sisters called the rough riders a harsh man at the best of times her resolve wilted and she adjusted her tone i we want to know too when is our sis robert stared a moment longer and then turned and with a motion to Billings, the two men exited the little establishment. Dottie looked at her sisters in turn, then followed in the wake of the hunters. She stayed far enough behind them that she'd draw no notice as they trudged towards the structure that served as Luke Preston's headquarters and home. They entered unceremoniously, and she caught up to them. She remained outside the door and was rewarded by voices from within. Apparently Luke was in the main room and stirring. What do you want, Roberts? Billings?

We want a few men to help us look for Boudreau and Tibeto. They went out with Claude to find one of his whores that absconded into the falling snow. Roberts, an educated man, fallen from grace through his own foul nature, demanded, What do you mean? Tell me what happened, Luke intoned. Robert sighed in frustration. Yesterday, Claude came by and asked if a couple of us would might be. helping him to find one of his girls who've gone missing now none of them have returned in its past time we go looking for him we want to leave at first light thought he couldn't see it but luke blanched

so they left camp after dark robert shook his head oh about noon when the snow stopped so they've been gone since yesterday at noon now the whole day is wasted stupid hors didn't bother to say anything until a short time passed Luke nodded. Very well. Take four with you, but I must caution you. He stood to his considerable height and glowed at Roberts as the unpleasant man had done over Nana.

You must stay together. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, it's imperative that you remain in a group. Doddy fled back to the whispering Pines Tavern once she'd eavesdrop on the plans. She would follow the group of hunters into the forest. She had to find her sister. It would be scary, but the man would be nearby in carrying weapons.

It was a foolish plan, but it was all she had. In my dream she still has haunted me, clothing gone, salt in brine. When life I used to hug her, now she's dead, I'll draw the line. Noc-cha just did the straps on his costume. He was still strong, despite long, hard years, yet lately each time he hefted the construct onto his shoulders, it felt heavier. He pulled at each control to sure that the puppet worked and would be suitably terrifying to the outsiders, the prey folk. The hunters stood around checking their weapons for any flaws they may have missed, and ensuring that each edge was sharp, and each bludgeon firmly affixed to its handle. He was proud of the current crop of warriors.

they were not intimidated by the large number of outsiders and understood that the extra food would be helpful with the coming winter despite the readily available food source they would have to create panic in the settlement to get the outsiders to leave this group was too large to handle for too long and had taken over a prime winter camp space for the try but the meat would keep with the coming cold

his new mate was coming along nicely she'd not been overly frightened when he'd used used to. She was young and he hoped to get some living children inside her soon. The tribe needed some fresh blood in its lineage. He surmised that the outsiders would come with a more numerous party this time and he looked over the Noquah to ensure that the Death Walker puppeteers were ready. It'd soon be time to play the hunting game, the eating game. Ah, let's face it, the whole bunch is lightly dead or absconded. Billings pronounced as he and Roberts awaited, the the rest of their party.

Our huntsmen companions are competent enough, but there's something stalk in these woods. This entire area, he shuddered. Billings nodded. Oh, no, we've all felt it. Heard the noises, the whispers, and the calls. Certainly not animals. Not even birds make such noises. Almost makes one believe the tales of the locals about this place being haunted.

Almost. They succumbed to misadventure or being forced to flee deeper into the wilderness. Perhaps they took the girl and fled the area altogether. Though, that just doesn't feel right. Neither of them was a coward, especially Boudreau. He cut off as the other four members of their party arrived, accompanied by a fifth, following shortly behind. Where do you think you're going?

He asked the fifth person. Flynn shrugged. I heard about the search party. Thought I could help. Well, in addition to being an extraordinary musical talent, I'm a fair tracker and hunter, as I've often had to feed myself as I travel between settlements. Besides, everyone stirred up and no longer paying tips for my tunes. Might as well do something useful until the snow clears and I can get banked down the mountain.

I should have gone with the supply group, but... He shrugged in the manner of a man who'd let yet another opportunity pass and was accustomed to the feeling of failure. Roberts glanced at Billings, you shrugged. More hands won't hurt. Roberts nodded and looked to each of the men in turn. I know you lot of volunteers, but I must caution you. Billings and I are in charge of this party.

Treat what we say as word and law. That's the best way to succeed. I see that each of you's armed, except for you. He looked at Flynn. did you bring your bow and Rosen bag in case of her fight? The other men chuckled and Flynn grinned as he moved aside his heavy coat to reveal a large, framed, 44-caliber revolver and the handle of a large knife mounted on his belt. Someone has to be ready for close-up work, he said as he refastened the garment. Roberts made a sour face and led the men into the forest, following the last known trail of the search party and the missing girl.

behind the last man a slender figure in furs flitted from tree to tree and followed their trail as her father had taught her before he fell into malaise and strong drink Noccha placed himself so that the leader of the band of outsiders would see him he was prepared to quickly dart into cover

while others distracted the prey folk they would lead them to where they'd ambush the other group and along the way attempt to draw away a few of the searches one at a time to make it easier to handle them, and to better so fear among the rest of the party. The young hunters were hidden and prepared to begin their whistles, while the full-fledged adult hunters prepared to chant and add to the enticing noises. He and the Noquah would give voice to the cause of the last. The hunting game was familiar to each of his party.

They would feast for a month without having to hunt other game. When the dark-hued man who caught out. out front of the Preyfolk reached the right place, he started the game. He caught out in a voice that was a fair mimic of one of the previous trio of the searchers. He-opper, heard it. Billings, out in front of the rest of the party, heard a low plaintive call from directly ahead. It sounded a little like Claude. He was unsure, so rather than alerting Roberts and the others, he increased his pace so that he could determine that it was. Perhaps the search would be a short one, he thought happily. The voice sounded again, more to his left. He adjusted his direction and again picked up

the pace. He sounded like Claude, but in distress, perhaps injured. Off to his right, along the original line of travel, he glimpsed a tall figure through the limbs of the trees. Pale, spiky he paused for a moment and the javelin took him in the throat a hard object struck him in the side of the head within seconds there was nothing left but a spray of blood

that was brushed by evergreen needles to leave a reddish brown smear in the fallen snow bill slow your pace I've lost sight Roberts caught out to his favourite of the trio of hunters he managed there was no answer just a breeze that accompanied the lowering clouds above

the clouds that presage more snow to come Roberts halted the party a couple of the men started to ask what was happening but he silenced them listen except for the sowing of the breeze through the trees

there was absolute silence Nocja grinned in satisfaction the hunters had done well in taking one of the leaders of the party now the others would be indecisive worried for their friends distracted he ensured that the hunters had moved away from the area quickly and as quietly as possible this was a time for the outsiders to face silence so that when the sounds of the hunters the noquois began again

the party would divide and be lured to their individual dooms and so it went throughout the day their next victim paused to relieve himself while the rest of the party advanced they baited two more into wandering into the woods the tall one with a bright red hair tried to stop the second one from leaving but failed that one had alerted the lead outsider when he fired the big pistol into the trees and then they come into the trees as a group knockcha feared that they learned their lessons and the hunters were forced to leave behind the

meat. So he caught off the hunt. It was time to spread terror in the main camp where the diggers remove the pretty yellow rocks from the cavern, the place where his tribe wanted to spend at least part of the winter months. Besides, he wanted to pause long enough to take a good look at the new prize, the one who'd followed the party of outsiders, who looked something like his new mate. Perhaps he would give her to his best Noquah. Black Cat Petipa. was tired. He'd worked his entire shift, then gone to the whispering pines to have a romp with Nana. After that and a few drinks, he was ready to sleep. As he neared the cabin he shared with one of the other miners, he heard an odd noise that came from the trees at the edge of the camp.

A strange, whistling sound, just at the edge of the hearing. Probably just the wind and the furrows, he muttered. Fatigue getting to me, maybe too much boots. Calm. Looka. No, he could definitely make out that sound. Like the whore sisters. Maybe Winnie or Dotty. Too sweet for the other two, but somehow a little sickly. Well, he knew that two girls were missing. The entire camp knew that by now. Maybe they were lurking out in the woods, maybe hurt, maybe just in need of a break from all the miners. Well, he'd try to be kind to them. Maybe he should go see. He sighed wearily and trudged toward the sound of the voice. After losing the third volunteer, Roberts turned the party back towards Clementine's folly. They'd lost Billings and three

others, and were now down to three of seven. He'd planned to stay out all night, but he knew that whatever was stalking them would finish the job if they failed to seek reinforcements. They'd found the body of Archambot, leaking out the last of his life's blood into the snow. he considered staying out to look but Flynn had taught him out of it this man had good sense and appeared to have a cool head that was the role that Billings had filled that the man had been his friend and rarely attempted to rein in his reactions Flynn had missed but at least he'd drawn and fired a few rounds on their behalf give us a song Flynn we need cheering up now friends out among the trees need to hear the songs of others for a change and let them hear a terrible voice channing. Flynn was a little surprised, but then chuckled. I hope my voice is not as bad as all that.

He cleared his throat, took a sip of water, then cleared it again, then cut loose with the minstrel boy, in hopes that it would rouse the men of the party to stay alert and keep their courage close to hand. They seemed to be effacious, and after a few hours of straight trudging without being slowed by attempts to try. they made it back to the edge of the settlement. They headed straight for the whispering pine's tavern.

Every man in the group wanted a drink. But yet they saw a gaggle of bodies at the meeting hall and heard a rumble of voices. There were too many bodies. It was clear that no one was currently in the mine. They were all present for the meeting. As the new arrivals pressed into the crowd, Roberts led the way. Many of the miners feared the hunter.

and stepped aside for him. As the group made their way inside, they could hear Luke Preston from where he stood on a crate at the front of the building. I agree. The supply party should have been back today. If we don't hear from them by the end of the day tomorrow, we'll send out a search party. He noted the new arrivals and registered the haunted look on the face of the chief hunter.

Speaking of which, Roberts, where is Billings? He looked at the three men who stood. took before him. For that matter, where's the rest of your party? We lost him and three others. We turned back to get more man to help search. We told him what you said about going into the woods. Billings heard it from you directly, but it was as though they were under some type of spell. The Eldridge chants and calls led them to their doom. We arrived in time to find the body of one of the men, Stanton, but he was already dead. Billings and the other men simply vanished.

There was a great deal of discussion, and it seemed that Dottie and three miners from the camp were missing. There were signs that two of the miners, who shared a tent, had met violent ends, though no one had observed an attack. In the end, Luke decided to send out a dozen searches to find the supply team. He set watches, but determined that work in the mine would continue while they resolved the threat.

i missed her how i missed her how i missed my clementine and i kissed her little sister and i forgot my clementine luke continued to rotate the miners through their shifts since it was the best way to keep them busy he took turns digging and sifting as well he preferred that to standing watch as the lady's shift wore to an end he realized with the sinking heart that the supply party had not returned, and he would either have to assign or a search party for them. He took his current load to the sifters and returned his tools to the storage racks, then wearily made his way to his office home. Roberts was there awaiting him, along with a group of eight men, most of them hard-looking. I've already routed up volunteers, short of a dozen, but none of them weak. It means a few more to stay and worth the mind, but seems with everyone else on the verge of panic.

Not much will get done in any case. I think Flynn may also join us, though. He'll likely leave the party of the river. We'll go to the landing, wait for three days. If they don't show, they never will. We'll all have to pack out of here during the next clear weather. We'll leave as soon as it starts to get light. Definitely more snow on the way.

No need for ceremony. Just brought them by so you'd have an accountant of who had left camp. Luke nodded tiredly and walked over to his desk to make notes in the personnel log. When they were done, he looked up and met the eyes of each of the men. Whatever you do, stay with the party. No matter whom you may hear calling to you, it's more likely a lure to meet your death than a last comrade. I wish you all a safe journey and pray for your swift return.

Dottie couldn't believe she'd at last found Winnie. They were not allowed a sweet, sweet, reunion, but at least she knew that her sister was alive, well, at least breathing. Life would require more than this most basic of existence. The brutish members of the Wendigo tribe constantly abusive or too stupid to converse or consider the needs of others. Perhaps over time they let the sisters speak and regain their once return or relationship. She said to herself, Winnies look more better. She don't look right. Her eyes are glassy and a little...

crazy maybe. Over the next few days, she grew to understand the terrors that led to the look in her sister's eyes, and she began to share that look. Flynn had indeed joined the search party that followed down the larger sled trail, in hopes that they'd encounter the returning equipment supply party. He'd determined to leave the camp far behind him once they'd reached the river, and head for Whitehorse, and perhaps a better venue in which to winter. For now, he trudged along and glanced in concern at the glowering clouds that threatened more snow, much more. The rest of the time he attempted to remain alert. He knew that something horrible lurt in this forest, this land of fear, and he wanted to get away from it. He had the generous tips of drunken miners in his little pouch,

along with a few nuggets he'd liberated. Definitely time to go. He cogitated, but the chanting began off to the west. He knew. the sounds would grow louder, more enticing, so instead of the reverie to which the cause invited him, he determined to alert the others. Be alert, there's a chant from the woods. If you listen too deeply, you'll stray, and if you stray, you'll die. If anyone runs into those woods, he's dead, forget him. Roberts grunted from near the front of the line. Yeah, ignore them. Be aware in case of a general attack,

but mostly they want to lure us out there alone to take us in a way that's easier for them. One of the miners spoke from the middle of the column. Don't sound like an old damn. Sounds like one booger out in them trees. Roberts' answers. Regardless of the sounds, the tracks indicate a numerous party.

They attempted to obscure that trail, but we almost caught them on that level. last foray and they apparently lacked the time to sufficiently cover their imprints. Flynn, how about a song to drown out the horrors of this forest? Flynn obliged and soon the entire troop was singing along, and the chance faded as they moved down the mountain and toward the river. The snow started as they made their camp near the water, thick and quickly oblivitating their view as they sat huddled around their fires. Nochah smiled. The tribe had seen.

sent off the outsider party with a reminder of what awaited them if they returned. It was now time to devour or drive off the rest of the group. It was down by nearly half with the meat they'd taken and those who'd left in groups. The true effort would begin tonight. They'd take at least four of the miners from their tents. Then they'd put on a display to spark fear. Luke awakened faint sounds of a song from out among the trees and sent to the rift to the rhythm of whistling snow-filled winds. Well, it almost sounded like Flynn. He rose and quickly

donned his warm clothing and boots, then picked up his Winchester on the way out of his dwelling. As he left the building, he encountered a party of about a dozen who were headed toward him. There was a shift working in the mind, but there should have been a few more in this party. All of the man carried some type of weapon, and many of them held a firearm of some kind. It was suicide to travel these remote lands without strong protection. Come, come to us. The voices moaned from within the forest. Clearly more than one this time.

Every head swivelled towards the eerie, quavering sounds. Stop, Luke called to them. Every one of you come inside. No matter what you hear, come inside. Yet one of the men toward the back of the group, caught out. It sounds like Flynn. Maybe he's got out in the storm and needs help. As he spoke, he took a few steps away from the rest. The swirling snow quickly obscured him from the view of the others. Another man, his tentmate, followed. Come back, Floyd. Didn't you hear Mr. Preston?

The rest of the men had obeyed their boss when he led them into the meeting room. Floyd was able to let out a quick shriek before he joined the other four. who'd been spirited away that night. His tentmate died silently. Flynn shivered with the rest. The wind combined with proximity to the wide water to make the camp uncomfortably cold. It'd be morning soon, the third morning of their vigil. He expected that the rest of the party would head back to camp after today. As for him, the snow would stop late the previous evening. It was heavy, but he'd faced worse. He would leave today.

He had no interest in the supply party, nor the miners. There were a couple of canoes that the miners kept hidden in the brush. Once across the river, he could follow the well-traveled river road back to town. Some of the others had made pretty obvious hints that they would like to join him. Well, he wouldn't mind the company. There were safety in numbers. Hello? The camp! Voices called from up the sled trail.

Flynn and the others looked up as a group of people. people in a gaggle, some of whom appeared to be wounded, descended the sled trail from the direction of Clementine's folly. They were soon recognizable as miners. Once they were closer, the man who called to them spoke for the group. The rest looked exhausted or in too much pain for conversation. We have to go. Whoever or whatever haunts this mountain has beaten us. We're carrying as much of the cachet as we could. We'll split it with your man, but we have to leave this place. Roberts looked over the group, which included Nana, who spotted a large bruise on a left cheek and dried blood around her mouth. Come on to the fires. We'll gather some more

word and you can tell us just why you've apparently mutinied. Before that, Luke, Mr. Preston, did you kill him and the others? The man shook his head. We all liked the man. Deer Lee gave us to help in mind was uncommonly generous. It's just, Well, we can't spend it if we're dead. Later, around the fire the spokesman, Castor, took up the tale. We stayed in the meeting house until the next morning. Then we searched the camp. None of the miners had returned, but we found the girls at the tavern.

The tour were left. Anyway, Luke rounded up the entire bunch and herded us into the mine. The shift members were still there. We all gathered and took account of what we had by way of supplies. We carried all we could to the mind. Mr. Preston led us and set up a little fort at the front of the cabin. We set up watches. Everything went fine for a while.

And then the chanting started again. This time it echoed throughout the cabin, like some sort of tortured spirits. The girls curled up together and cried in fear. Some of the men may as well have joined them. He'd sunken further into the memories as he spoke. Then he looked up. The sounds were no long. come in from the forest. They were all around us. We knew that we had to make a break.

The mine was the source of the haunting. We tried to convince Luke, but he wouldn't have it. We took a handful of volunteers to the deepest part of the mine. While they were gone, the rest of us broke into the ore store, shouldered our supplies, and left. He shuddered. They came back up to the entrance, and we had a fight. I don't think any of them was hurt too badly. He looked away as a rumble like distant thunder sounded from up the mountain and all had swivel to investigate. Robert spoke first. That wasn't thunder snow. We all know that sounds. That was a deliberate blast from TNT. Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling clementine

they are lost in gone forever dreadful sorry Clementine Luke and his last four miners had gone deep into the mine he needed to work to allow himself to think his enterprise was crumbling just when they began serious efforts to extract from the mother load vein

it was admittedly nerve-wracking to listen to the odd voices but he was convinced that it was just wind moaning through the mine from some hidden breach or perhaps an underground stream he knew that horror resided outside in the forest of that he had no doubts yet the cabin had always been safe well the others had been skeptical but he felt that if his small team could retrieve enough pure nuggets the others might be convinced to return to work it had just take patience he pounded the flow of golden delight until it rang he noted a nodded the odd echo, a pounding sound from the other side, as though there was a mirror, Luke, hammering the other side of the main, behind the wall.

He stopped to listen. It wasn't an echo, but rather an independent thump. Took a step back from the wall and looked. After a few more thumps, a small spray of rock splintered and struck his chest. The head of a rusted pig protruded slightly from a small hole in the wall. It had been breached from the opposite side. He called out to the other men working around him, and they soon surrounded their boss, curious about what he may have discovered. Tucker bent to look through the newly made aperture.

A red-rimmed eye blazed through and looked back into his. It quickly disappeared, and he stood, blinking dumbly until the tip of a javelin pierced his eye and drove into his brain. As Tucker's limp form collapsed, The miners fled. Luke called for them to remain and stay calm, but he may as well have shouted at the storm outside to stop the snow from falling. He walked after the rapidly disappearing figures as they faded into the black gloom and towards the light and air of the upper world. There was no point in running. He carried his pick and a lantern. As he drew closer he heard disturbing sounds, sounds of fighting.

He picked up his pace and as he rounded the last. curve that blocked the outside light, he saw the silhouettes of two groups struggling against one another outside the safe storage. It was where the partially worked gold was stored, a small grotto off the main cavern that he had secured with a sturdy log door, with heavy metal hinges, and a clasp he'd brought from Whitehorse in anticipation of the need for security. The light from his lantern revealed that the storeroom had been broken open with heavy tools. A few figures lay sprawled about. Clearly, wounded, and one or two appeared to be still in final poses.

Stop! Stop this madness! He shouted to little effect. He caught movement to his right and raised the pickaxe in time to stop a heavy shovel scoot from brining him. The man who wielded it was one of those who decided to leave. His eyes were now wild with fear and fury, and he drew back the shovel for another swing. Luke was faster and buried the bridge. Luke was faster and buried the pick in the man's chest. He attempted to pull it free, but the curvature had caused it to catch in the man's ribs. The meaty resistance to his tug would normally have made him sick, but his blood was up and his body pumped adrenaline as quickly as it could. The man managed to bug out his eyes even more before he clasped, feebly attempting to raise his hands to the metal tool that had pierced

his heart and ended his life. Luke had no time for him. The miners who'd chosen to leave overwhelmed the last of the faithful five, as he'd thought of those who remained to help him, though with the loss of Tucker, he supposed it was the faithful four now. He stepped back from them, and one gritted out a warning. You best stay back, Mr. Preston. We all like you. You're a good enough, boss man, but not even gold is worth dying over. Luke's shoulder drooped and his chest heaved with deep, heavy breaths. Go on, then. Take your share, just leave some for these other men, the real man who kept faith.

Well, there were some growls and rumbles of anger at his insult, but pragmatism won out, and the erstwhile miners scrambled to take what they could carry and made their way to the cavern exit. Luke roused his four remaining friends. Come on, help me with the other contents of the safe. He raised his lantern and aimed the aperture toward the back of the grotto. There was a crate with a bright red lettering that had been hidden under a tar. The men in their mad rush had moved aside the covering but didn't feel the need to waste carrying capacity on the contents.

The letter spelled, TNT, danger, explosive. Luke heard the rapidly crumbling backwall as the cannibals dug through like rabid moles. He and his small gang set the charges where he directed, and where he knew it would be the most effective. He sent the others back up to the front of the cavern, and then fed out the wires as he shuffled back up the tunnel in their wake. He set the wires and raised the plunger. Nochah pushed aside the men he'd ordered to dig through the back of the mine. They had been digging since shortly after the strangers set up their encampment, and now the little cave, his people occupied, and the larger cavern that was their normal.

winter campsites were joined he bent and stepped through the opening triumphantly to lead his people to the feast and to drive away the last of the outsiders there was no one living to greet him just the thick vein of yellow ore that spread up the walls of the cavern and the now cold carcass of Tucker he grinned wickedly through his file teeth and turned to call his warrior hunters, and a loud, deep, boom, sounded, followed by the thunderous noise of the cavern as it collapsed. Luke and the others met in the gathering hall. They determined to set out the next day and get down the mountain as quickly as possible. Once they were packed and ready and had begun to settle for the evening. He had time to feel the shock of what he'd done. He

killed a man and destroyed his dream, and along with it the dreams of all those who were come to this forlorn camp to work the rich mine with this easily obtained treasure. It was the dream of every prospector and miner, a pathway to the means that would fuel whatever he chose to do with the rest of his life. His pack now held just slightly more awe than it had when he'd fled the first disaster. His final thoughts before drifting into a fitful dose, rife with nightmarish images from his subconscious, were of failure and folly. Clementine's folly. The Noquah

had all survived the blast, though at least one of them would never hear again and another had suffered a broken arm. The one who was left relatively unscathed assumed the role of Nochah. The others felt it must be the will of the spirits since he had no visible wounds. Many of the tribe had been pushed outside

while the warriors had dug through the last bit of war to reach the meatfolk. It took some time. time to settle things, but eventually he decided that he would need to take over the mining camp to survive the current snowfall. First, they had to clear out the last of the miners. A feast to commemorate those lost and to celebrate their victory in driving away the outsiders was now in order. Mr. Preston, Luke, wake up, we have company. Luke pried open his dry, swollen eyes to see the face of farmer, a youngish man, looking down and

him in concern. We only have your rifle and the old pistol that Pete has. Two of us have picks and Roscoe has a wood axe. We could hear the cannibals ranging and rudin around the other structures. Pete took a peep outside and they seemed to have gathered at the Whisper in Pines tavern. We need to get ready. They've started. He was interrupted by a loud, whistling whale, not of wind, but of a tortured soul. It was followed quickly by chanting. The sounds did not begin quietly, but rose in a cacophony and turned to screeches and howls. The men were all on their feet. They had a total of twelve rounds of ammunition between Pete and Luke.

Those two stood at the front, with the others ranged behind them. The outer door slammed open, and the inner door rattled furiously. Let us in! The voice of Robert screeched. The door splintered. Shots rang out and people screamed in fury and agony. The fight to the finish was joined. The next morning, the equipment supply party floated into sight.

Flynn was relieved. They'd need all of the rafts to make it back to Whitehorse, with the swollen ranks of refugees. Yet they would make it. There'd been no sign of Luke Preston nor the others, so shortly afternoon they began to ferry people across the river. They'd take the large trail that passed as a road back to the town. He looked around at the shattered faces,

a couple of them literally broken from their fight in the mind. He noted Nana, looking back up the slope. They'd be in the last party to cross. What are you looking at, girl? She didn't answer at first, and he realized she was lightly looking with some large shred of hope to see her sisters. Naka had never made it to the river. she'd left the party along the way and had never returned.

He was a little startled when Nana finally answered. The old man of the mountain is watching from behind those trees, making sure we leave. Probably best we never come back. Flynn assumed that she meant some native superstition, a forest spirit. He took her by the arm. Come on. Time to go, he said in a low, calm tone. As he helped the young woman aboard the raft, he glanced back into the shadows of the trees and saw a face, a large face with crude, primitive features and glaring, savage eyes. He blinked and shook his head, then scrambled at the handle of his big 44.

When he looked again, the face was gone. Perhaps he was never there, he said to himself, I will definitely have to compose a ballad. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong,

please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me one. once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.