Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep355: Episode 355: Wendigo Nation

Episode Date: July 21, 2026

Tonight’s tale of terror is the ‘Wendigo Nation’, a wonderful story by Michael G. Lockhart, kindly shared with me via my subreddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission:https://www.reddit.com/user/BearLair64/

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Wendigo mythology is one of the most haunting traditions from the folklore of several indigenous peoples of the Alconquian cultural groups. The Wendigo is often described as a terrifying spirit or creature associated with greed, hunger, and the dangers of losing once humanity. Well, traditionally, stories of the Wendigo served as warnings against selfishness, excess, and the desperate acts people might commit in times of starvation or hardship. It's endless hunger and unnatural transformation represents something deeply frightening, the idea that a person can become something monstrous by giving in to their darkest instincts. Now over time, Wendigo legends have become a powerful symbol in horror, representing isolation, survival, and the fear that the greatest monsters may come from within.

So we shall see in tonight's feature-length story. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tale may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific. documentary. That sounds like your kind of thing. Let's begin. Wendigo Nation, Clementine's Folly. By Michael G. Lockhart. In a cabin, in a can, excavating for a mother, draw a murder, for him, and his daughter, Clementine. The year 1900 and five, Luke huffed and puffed his way down to where his team had hidden their raft at the trailhead.

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 had been able to ride off the noises as wind in the trees and rocks. then wild animals. But then, lost soul. Francois was on night watch the night after Big Ed saw the apparition.

When Ed claimed, I seen some sort of pale, skinny, bicky thing in the trees. It was way too tall for any man or beast. Frank had been the only one with the temerity to laugh off the table. Ah, Big Ed,

probably dreaming, eh? Thinking about some tall, skinny, women all pale in the moonlight. Maybe you saw some kind of luk guru, no. Big add bristled and no one with sense would prod too hard on the large rough-cut character, though it was questionable how much sense Francois possessed. Look old friend, all of you, I don't lie and 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 a roo-roo, no idea. So, what do you want? I'm keeping my rifle and my blades to hand. He glared first at Franken, 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 had 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 lives of so many others who'd sought wealth in the vast empty spaces of the clondon. More things considered, it's probably a good idea to take

guard duty in terms. There was 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 rooogaroos 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 pounded savagely when he heard a screeching

whale out in the trees, but far too close for comfort. It could have been an owl, but, well, the tones were deep and harsh and contained elements of longing and hunger, a hint of bloodlust. They spoke of something fowler and more dreadful than anything in the natural world.

Although hum started and rose in volume, A chance, disturbing and mesmerizing all at once. Then a woman's voice. Kuma! Kuma with me here. 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 curiously. curiosity mingled with fear. I reckon he just stepped out. Maybe something got him. Maybe a bearer of some walls.

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 the other 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 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 camp. Them was friends, Big Ed mumbled unnecessarily. They continued their search but found no other clues. By late afternoon Luke caught 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 watch. 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. Here up. Come, help! Frank's voice emanated from the stigian 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. Hmm. 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 intervened. up, come, 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. Ed ran 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, 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 annes, 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 apparition turned its gaze upon him, and big Edtoot. We've been hiding here in the wild for killing a man with his knives, toughest of a rough crew,

had 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 airstrax and looks like he hid the ground. Little dirt to the outline where his head rested. And there, the dirt mostly covers it, but that's blood. They searched further, but if they 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 meanings. 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 golds. 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. Oh, the tired campers were soon snoozing, whether on watch or not.

Hurd, 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. Sound is strange, maybe kind of hungry. Charlie shuddered and then sat 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, the 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 rhythmic chanting, initially almost inaudible, ensued. Eventually Wales penetrated the air to punctuate the air to punctuate the, rising tide of the quasi-chum moans and whispers spoke of hunger and need of empty bellies and soulless plight charlie bolted upright and scrambled to his feet before luke or 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 the 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 outcrow. The two surviving prospectors rose and bolted together down the mountainside towards the river.

Luke looked back as they left the circle of light and thought he saw a large silhouette of a bullet-shaped head that rested directly on a penit. of impossibly broad shoulders as it rose above the outcrop 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 its pale outline nearly gloved then the man heard a gut-wrenching sound followed by a rumble that issued from a

above and behind. An 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 stormed 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 ditches. tried to 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 verger of the lower slope. 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 crossed the wide water of the Yukon River, the year 1908. But she wasn't like a fairy, and her shoes were number nine,

airing boxes without topsies, and was the 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 mine 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 Clondike 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 coot 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. My voice is already nasly enough. He smiled to himself. Not that these folks were choosy. A dozen or so customers sat scattered around the little saloon building.

Whispering Pine's 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'd added the word tavern. The plank had travelled from wherever it had been felled, to the mill, to a town, then to a jury-rigged 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, a 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 minors. 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 we now sat in the warmest building, the gathering hall slash office slash church slash quarters for luke well it wasn't much larger than the saloon

but contained only one room and log benches or the 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 dry goods and ammunition with which to hunt. Plenty of blankets and furs and boots. Look out for one another, and he paused, and his gaze went distant for a moment. And don't go chasing out into the forest if you hear queer sounds or 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 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 outhousees. They're terrified of the trees.

So, just, please, stay around camp as much as you can. There are definitely bears, wolves, and 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, in 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's going to be called Clementine's reward, but, well, after Charlie and the others, it seemed like we'd invited ill luck on our endeavors, so a less happy sounding name was in order. roams she ducklings to the water every morning just at night struck her foot against a splinter fell into the foaming brine when he scrubbed her sister dotty's bat their sisters had already bathed they used the same tub and the water cooled 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'd 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 cannibal. 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 face claude's considerable rough, 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 little. moment to slip outside 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! Winnie started when she realized that she'd heard actual words, inserted into the pauses in the chanting. Car! 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, Narnar-onaka, would come out and call her back inside, back to the miseries and the dead. 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. 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 home. Ruby lips above the water, blowing by, full 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. Dottie 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, and not just bugging ponies in the sack. Some even wash themselves. Dottie assumed a worried expression. We've got to tell Claude. He'll help. He don't want nothing to happen to us, especially Winnie.

She's his favorite. Nana's expression soured further. Now listen, Fulgo. We don't want Claude to get upset. He's promised us that when the mine 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 gaited 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 over. A tall over. A man. Tawful. and the rest approached and yelled him. 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. Rocha! 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? Flored menaced Dottie, 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. Dottie 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. can take care of them. He looked to 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 winning, yet Claude told her to stay put before he trapped 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 he has 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 track.

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 thee something His partner, Tibeto, shortly added Annelas, what kind of He cut off when he saw what lay beneath the anandles

The long distorted face that rose well above the ground And the bony, spiky body that worked in ways that were Wrong Oh, Mardt 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! 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 charged forth.

into the heavy foliage and called, "'Winnie, I'm coming, girl.' Woodrow 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 are you?' He felt the hard impact on the back of his head. his skull and then secondary impact from when he landed on the snow-cover ground. But afterwards, he felt nothing more. Tibedo called to his friends. But not so fast. We need to stop and listen. Boudreau complied. They stopped and strained to hear whatever they could. They strayed near a rocky outcrop. I think we're near the cavern. Tibedore 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. Clor, come to us, eh? 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 mine. 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'd 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. Boudreau 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 twist and wrench. He grunted and thomited blood onto the rocks near his feet. A pale, spiky beard, 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 moor full of fangs, now tinged with his lifeblood. He felt the rifle slide from his weakened grip and sensed the ground rushing toward it. It took him a long time to die, but he was never able to scream. And the minor, thought he learned, soon began to be combined. Thought he don't join his daughter, now his with his clamming time. Winnie looked up hopefully when the hunters returned. It was cold and she was hungry, as were all those who awaited the meat bringers. yet she recoiled in disgust when she saw what they carried into the camp that was set 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 sight of our favorite 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 cadavas 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, go. The men will be here soon. You and Nakar will have to take care of them. Claude's still gone, so I'll work the bar. Doddy 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 Dottie and Nakar had a slow night.

At least until Roberts, one of the other hunters, pushed Nanna up against the wall behind the bar and shook her. We're a Boudreau and Tibado. You say they're left with Claude 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 balance. 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 loss 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 stood defiant.

I don't know where they're at, just that they went to look for winning. 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 night.

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. Winnie's 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 staring.

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 its hores that absconded into the falling snow. Roberts, an educated man, fallen from grace with 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 mind 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.

Toddy 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 haws didn't bother to say anything "'until a short time passed.'

"'Luc nodded. "'Very well. "'Take far 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're here 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'd be scary but the men would be nearby in carrying weapons it was a foolish plan but it was all she had in my dream she still has clothing gone salt and brine I won't love I used to hug her now she's dead I'll draw the line Noccha

adjusted 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 tribe. 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 it. 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.

Let's face it, the whole bunch is lightly dead are absconded. Billings pronounced as he and Roberts awaited 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. I know, 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 budro 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 flin shrugged well i heard about the search party thought i could help well in addition to being an extraordinary musical damner 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 well do something useful until the snow clears and I can get back 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, he 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 arm, except for you. He looked at Flynn. Do you bring your bow and Rosen bag in case of a 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 let the men into the forest, following the last known trail of the search party and the missing girl. Behind the last man, the 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 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. Head up a hurt! Billings. out in front of the rest of the party, heard a low plaintiff 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. It sounded like Claude, but he sounded like Claude, but he was a little. 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 nochah 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 and Noquois began again the party would divide and be lured to their individual doom 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 had tried to stop the second one from leaving but failed and 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.

Noxha 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 removed 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 in the furrows, he muttered. Fatigue getting to me, maybe too much boo. Come, look, no, I. 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 falling.

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. to seek reinforcements. He'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 talked 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 hands. They seemed to be effacious,

and after a few hours of straight trudging without being slowed by attempts to track, they made it back to the edge of the settlement. They headed straight for the whispering pines 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 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. Now, Billings heard it from you directly, but it was as though they were under some type of spell. Ah, the Eldridge chance and cause 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. It seemed that Dottie and three miners from the camp were missing. There were signs that two of the miners, who'd 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 working the mine would continue while they resolved the threat. How I missed her. How I missed her. How I missed my Clemency.

Then 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 latest 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 do a search party for them.

He took his current load to the sifters and returned his tools to the storage racks that 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. Fawn tears. Short of a dozen, but none of them weak. It means a few more to stay and worth of

mind, but it 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 at 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 the men 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 long 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 to be a party you all the safe to be a party you are a safe to hear calling to you are a safe to hear of your calling to you're not a last comrade i wish you all a safe journey and pray for your swift return. Doddy couldn't believe she'd at last found winning. They were not allowed a 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 returnal relationship. She said to herself, Oh, Winnie's looked 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 lurked 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 liberate it. 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'll 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 their trail, but we almost caught them on that 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 oblivulating their view as they sat huddled around their fires. Cha smiled. The tribe had 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 to night. 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 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 mine, 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. Who's 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 swiveled 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, and 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 tent-mates 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-travelled 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 in a gaggle, some of whom appeared to be wounded, descended the sled trail from the direction of Clementine's folly. They were soon recognisable 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'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 mutinies. 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 him. mine 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. We all gathered, and took account of what we had by way of supplies. We carried all we could to the mine.

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 longer coming 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. He 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 sound. That was a deliberate blast from TNT. Oh, my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clarence. They are lost in gone. forever dreadful sorry Valentine 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 an odd echo, a pounding sound from the other side, as though there was a mirror, Luke, hammering the other.

the 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 the other men working around him and they soon surrounded their box 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 for. 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 ran to 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 worth. 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 scoop from braining 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 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 glanced, 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 minus who'd chosen to leave overwhelmed the last of the faithful five, as he 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 Wang 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, and 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 cover,

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 foul teeth and turned to call his warrior hunters and a loud, deep, boom, sounded, followed by the thunderous noise of the cavern as it clas. 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 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 of his life, disaster. His final thoughts before drifting into a fitful dose, rife with nightmarish images from his subconscious, were of failure and folly. Plymentine's folly, the Noquois, 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 Noch-Chah. 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. Took some 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 at him and concerned. 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 ruden around the other structures. Pete took a peep

outside and they seemed to have gathered at the whisper in pines town we need to get ready they've started he was interrupted by a loud whistling whale not of wind but of a tortured soul was followed quickly by chanting the sounds did not begin quietly but rose in a cacophony and turned to screeches and hounds 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 mine. 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 you realize she was lightly looking with some last shred of hope to see her sisters the car 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 her 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. Wendigo Nation, whispering pine. The snowflakes follows the winter comes,

and time just seems to fly. Whispering pines, whispering pines. Tell me, is it so? Whisper in pines, whispering pines, you're the one who knows. Jay Horton. Steam arose from John as he scuttled through the snow-laden pines, not only from his breath, but his entire body. He'd run for quite some time in the blistering cold.

The inner layers of his clothing clung to his body in a sweat-soaked mess. By contrast, his wispy beard was frozen, as were the bees of sweat that had run down the length of his head. and now hung out from under the hood of his parker. Each breath seared his lungs with cold as he struggled to continue taking in the oxygen. He had no idea whether he left behind his pursuer. He refused to pause to look back at what might be following, closing in on his ever-sloving treads in the knee-deep slough.

The eerie wailing cry arose on his right, and from slightly ahead, somewhere between a whale and a whistle with a breathy quality that sent fresh shivers down his spine. It's past me, he screamed forlornly in his mind. He glanced around desperately in search for a weapon of some kind. He didn't think he'd be able to fight the thing with the thin options available, perhaps not even with proper weapons. It had to be supernatural, some sort of evil spirit or demon.

Its appearance alone gave him fright, though he'd only ever caught glimpses of pale skin and spikes or antoness of maciated limbs. It sang in a low, chanting voice that hinted of hunger for human flesh, that whispered of an awful end for him, followed by a feast for it. The whispered spread among the pines as he neared the fire road by which he'd entered the area, before he struck off down a forlorn wilderness trail. So much for getting away to a place that would inspire, and inform his art.

He came to a huffing stop. His breathing was ragged, and he gulped even more desperately for oxygen. There, on the ground, under the intertwined webs of a conifer where the snow had not been able to completely cover the ground. The perfect combination. A fairly straight branch,

still somewhat green but broken off, twisted from the tree near the base, possibly by ice. Near it were three-stop. about the size of chicken eggs and equally as smooth, river rocks. He gathered up his newfound arsenal, working through the pains of bending forward with his stiffening joints and shivering body. The cold set in almost immediately. He stuffed two of the stones into his outer pockets and hefted the third as he rested the branch on his shoulder.

This is it. I'll have to make a stand. He took up a stance in front of the large fur where he'd found the weapons. Waiting, his back to the solid living wood, he prepared himself to confront the otherworldly creature. Five days earlier, John lounged in the comfort of the first-class section of the flight from Cetac to Whitehorse, in the Yukon, the last frontier. It was the first vacation he'd allowed himself in several years. He'd always wanted to see the wilds of the northwest, the land and the animals. It was springtime in the territory and adjacent Alaska, but still very cold. However, he had gear awaiting him, as well as guides and a few select fellow travelers. He looked forward to the isolation that he'd heard one could feel,

even in the company of others, when trekking the vast wilderness spaces. It was exactly what he sought. He knew he was a tenderfoot, and would need the guides and companions. It was unsafe to travel without them yet he hoped to avoid having to be the center of attention it was a vacation but he was an artist so his imagination never stopped and his work was his relaxation there were seven other hikers and two guides so the party would total ten he felt that that would be a crowd but the company manager slash owner had assured him that there'd be plenty of time for quiet contemplation travel on the legendary Yukon River, then by dog sled, and finally they'd hike into unblemished forests. The first night was easy. They stayed at a commercial lodge and met in

the common room for supper. They met the guides, Harry and Ronald. There were jokes about the Harry Potter pals, of course, initiated by the pair of guides, who found it funnier than did John. Over the other seven intrepid explorers, there were two couples, a pair of girls on their spring break, slash soon-to-be post-graduation trip, and an older man, Jim, who was retired and decided that for his 80th birthday he'd explore a part of the world he'd not yet visited. He raised his arm. I had to heal and get therapy for a badly broken wing, so I'm a few months late for my birthday, but this was the plan all along.

I used the therapy time to get back into better shape. I'm hoping to see a booger-squatch of the Grey-Widenall. John wasn't sure about the scarred octogenarian He looked fit enough for his age But whatever He concluded His business as long as he leaves me alone What the fuck's a booger squatch? He wondered

The guys looked over everyone's gear Impaired them so they could use a checklist To check one another again in the morning John of course was stuck with the white-haired gym The old man gave him a twinkle-eyed yellow-tooth grin "'Ah, I know what's you thinking, Johnny. "'You'd rather we each be paired with one of them sweet young girls.

"'Don't worry. "'If you like either of them, I'll take the other. "'In my age, I'm not choosy.' "'He winked and then hefted his heavy pack. "'Tron wasn't sure whether the man was serious or joking. "'He was even more concerned that the young women may have heard the old lecher. "'Mostly, he just fumed because he hated being called Johnny. "'Well, we have a slow stretch.

time to trade positions. John, you're on bail. Ronald informed the troop of adventurers. Don't worry, we're over halfway through the wild water riding. Tomorrow is genuine sled dogs. Everyone's going to sleep well tonight. There was a tired but satisfied chorus of

Yeah. John was on a raft with his assigned buddy Jim and the younger of the two couples, Jorge and Jenny. The other crew floated just ahead in the bright sunlight. The water sparkled and the ripples in the relatively calm stretch slithered away from the hard rubber craft and blended back into the currents. With no bailing duties at the moment, John was free to relax and absorb the sights around him.

The majestic peaks, the rugged timber, the sweep and colours were magnificent. He only hoped that he'd be able to capture the vibrant landscape in words at some point. For now he simply absorbed it and made do. with a few quick photos. Sitting still in the damp bottom of the boat was cold duty and he soon began to shiver despite his warm clothing.

He knew that tomorrow they'd be making a slow steady climb and that with each foot they gained in altitude it would get colder. He started, along with the others, when a scream erupted from the near bank. It was high-pitched and warbled in the crisp air.

It quickly repeated. The members of the group appeared all around the trees that stretched along the bank, except for Ronald and Jim. They just sat there, each noticing that the other was calm, and then they grinned at one another. Ah, just a little. Jim informed them. They only sound like Las Soles.

His grin grew wider. Good thing it's not the foo bird. Jenny asked, why? What's a foo bird? Jim looked startled. Never heard of those? He looked around to confirm that no one in the raft had hurt of the creature. He was greeted with head shakes all around.

Well, the first time I took a hike just for fun. He tilted his head back and rubbed his chin. Nineteen 58. There were three of us. Tough boys. We lit out on our own. No guides, and it was way back in the hills. The ranger at the station told us that we saw a large wing shadow

and heard a loud screeching call that it was the foo bird, a very rare, very dangerous and very large creature, bigger than a condo. He warned us that it tended to poop before it attacked, but didn't like to go near its own mess, so if it pooped on or near us, just leave it in place until the foo bird flew onwards.

Well, sure enough, we marched on into the wilderness, and about midday, just like now, we heard a terrible screech from above and behind us. A pair of dark wings blotted out the light, and then splot. Big bird turd landed on my buddy, Jack. Oof, he was a foul-smelling load, full of ammonia stench, and he wiped it off without thinking. Nothing else happened, so we tromp forward and left Jack in the rear so that the stink would trail behind him without bugging bobbing me. After a while, Bob called to me and said, Hey, Jack's gone. It looked all over and called his name, but not.

No sign of Jack. He had vanished. We decided it was time to get help, so we headed back towards the Ranger Station. Directly we heard the roaring screech, and the shadow returned. Once more there was a large splat. This time it landed directly on Bob's hands. The weight of that mess pulled the hat right off the back of his head. Didn't matter, we ran to get under the nearest trees. When I got up and under some nice full pints, I look back. Bob was gone. Well, now I was truly frightened. Ran as fast as I could all the way back to the ranger station.

Toward the end of my run, I heard the screech and saw the shadow. Just as I entered the shadow of the porch, there was a large splat on the roof. Told the range of the story, and he shook his head and said, I'm sorry, sir, there's no hope for your friends. As I warned you before you left, if the foo shits wear it. waited and shortly ronald sniggett john had to cipher out the fractured cinderella metaphor before he gave a wry smile ronald explained it to hawke and jenny he laughed she didn't then the ward had started to rush once more and they

all had to pay attention they met more of the white horse adventures team that evening as crew members picked up the rafts and introduced their dog teams the next day they sped across the snow-covered landscape, always headed upward. During one of the breaks, the group gathered around for a hot lunch. The trees once more encroached on them, and Harry called for everyone's attention. We're getting near the end of the sledron. The land gets rocky, and in a few hours we'll have reached the limits for the pubs. Then we hike tomorrow. We have an added tree viewer, surprise. Well, the next campsites are long abandoned mining camp. gives you all an option to explore the last place humans have touched in recent times.

We'll have some time to explore the camp in the morning, and then we'll be in wilderness camps the next two nights, then back down to the Big River before nightfall on the final day. Only a few miles down from where we embark, and the last day and a half are all downhill. Our best of all, our team will have a couple of SUVs waiting to take us all back to the lodge for a farewell fling. That evening, as they sat around a few campfires and talked and sang and talked, stories. The older couple, Kim and Les, really enjoyed the second telling of the

foo bird story. John peered around a little uncomfortably. The old buildings looked like the broken skulls of giants, empty sockets and yawning mouths leering in the night. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the merriment was interrupted by a loud, wailing call, a mournful and frightening sound that wound through the trees and quiet old buildings and sent a chill down every spine. All of the tired dogs that have been snoozing around the outside ring of the encampment sat up and yipped and howled, then whimpered and whined as they settled back into their resting places, each a little closer to its companions than they'd been before. Jorge looked at Ronald, then at Harry.

Seriously, what was that? Don't tell me that was no bird this time. Both guys assured Jorge and the rest that they had no idea what it was. No one on the crew had any office other than maybe some kind of owl or wolf. Jim just sat and thoughtfully stared into the closest campfire. John suspected that the old timer knew something, but he didn't ask. The old fart may have just been tired and frightened. When the sound did not repeat, they decided to turn in early for the big height tomorrow.

The fun was over anyway and one felt like telling spooky stories anymore. A bit after midnight. the peace was once again shattered this time by one of the college girls her friend shrieks soon joined in and the cacophony awakened the entire camp to include the dogs they gathered back around the fires

and stoke them once more for light and warmth it was several moments before anyone could get anything coherent out of them I just finished using the potty Dakota was waiting her turn when I walked out of the little shelter I saw it That thing, back in the shadows, over her shoulder.

It was horrifying. I've never seen anything like it. Thin and dead-looking, with spikes and thorns. She trowed off into shivering sniffles. Dakota looked even more frightened. When I saw the look on Hannah's face, I looked around and I don't remember anything else. I don't want to.

Kim and the two older female crew members sued the girl. and in the end crowded them into tents with seasoned trackers. No one got much sleep, and the crew members rotated a watch for the rest of the night. Early the next morning, the sled teams took off in their much lightened vehicles. The dog seemed happy to leave the area. John would be too. There had been some snowfall during the early morning hours,

and the looming skull imagery of the previous night had given way to pitiful, but still creepy, wreckage in the dawn light, all coated in clean, glistening white. He felt the sharp stab of adrenaline shock in his heart as a large hand clapped down on his shoulder and a voice roused in his ear. Morning, Johnny. You figure out where you want to dig around in this old place? John shuddered to shake off the rush of startlement and then to hide his annoyance.

He didn't like people with Jim's level of confidence. He felt that they were dangerous and too boisterous. He wanted some peace and quiet. He noticed with satisfaction that Jim picked up on his feelings and during breakfast straight over to take a seat near the girls. He watched as the old man spoke quietly to both young women. He was clearly spinning some yarn, but there wasn't much laughter.

The trio were mostly serious, attentive expressions. John took the opportunity to ignore. the admonishments of the guides and sneak away from the rest of the group quickly dodged around a few corners and picked up a pathway that led to some rocky outcrups that looked promising perhaps he'd find a mineshaft and a souvenir to evoke his memories when it came to type out his word art les and kim did not ignore the guides they spoke with them and responsibly pointed out the areas they intended to explore they were more interested in the dwell wellings and other structures than in the mineshafts. They were celebrating their first empty nest year.

The last of their free children was finishing up her freshman year and volunteered to watch the house on her spring rake while they travelled for the first time in years. They were fit people who loved the outdoors and were looking forward to the empty lands that would greet them later today. Hey, Kimmers, is that what I think it is? Les pointed to the largest structure. Kim looked for a moment, or I believe so. It's a saloon, maybe the red dog sea loam. They grinned and held hands as they approached the front doorway. There were no swinging doors, this far north,

but the front door had a welcoming look. It was partway ajar, beckoning them forward into its shadowy interior. It led to a vestibule where patrons would have removed snow gear and hung it on racks. Most of those were broken. Les took the first shift with the flashlight The inner door was solid and closed He turned the handle and pushed As it turned out much harder than necessary

The door swung open easily And he stumbled forward into the gloomy main room Give him follow quickly You all right, hon Les nodded Then realized that his spouse had likely not been able to see the gesture Sure at our face Let's take a look

but there's stuff on the floor so be careful where you stand. The room wasn't large. It would hold 30 people tops, no more than about 20 comfortably. The bar was sawn planks on top of old whiskey barrels. There was no upstairs like in the old western movies. They were happy that the solid roof had provided more protection from the elements than would have the canvas top

so common in short-term townships. They stopped near the entrance to a back room. There'd been no storage area, just a pile of empty crates and a few empty and, or broken bottles on the other side of the bar in a corner of the room. Yet there was another room. Les glanced over his shoulder. Maybe the owner's bedchamber, she espose. Kim shrugged, which he didn't see. They crept toward the threshold to the curtained entrance.

The curtain was a heavy quilt in amazingly good shape. Les paused at the entrance for a moment. You notice that the place isn't as dusty as you'd think. Kim shrugged once more, but it was accompanied by a giggle. Maybe the ghost sweep to stay busy, since they don't get many visitors to spoo. Les snorted and pushed aside the curtain. Jim finished up his parables and ensured the two young women

that they were strong and smart and would be able to overcome anything they encountered in the forest. He patted the long knife at his side. Besides, a good pig sticker will get you out of all kinds of spots. He winked. Oh, I've stuck all kinds of porkers. All of them scary, but look who's here talking with lovely ladies on a gorgeous spring morning. The girl smiled up at the old man and thanked him for his wisdom and encouragement.

He flashed them his yellow grin and started to stalk off towards the nearby trees to take care of a morning business. when Harry spoke up. Mr. Broxton? Jim. Jim stopped and looked back inquiringly. What you got, Harold, at the Yukon? Harry smiled a little through his otherwise concerned visage. Do you know where your safety buzz he is?

We noticed that John's absence. Didn't tell us where he's going. We thought maybe he'd told you. Jim shrugged. He walked off among the buildings almost a half. hour ago. I thought he was looking for some place, take a morning constitutional. Now that you mention he has been gone for longer than need be. I hope he didn't fall in. Jorge pushed Jenny back up against the wall, one of the sturdier old buildings and kissed her fiercely. She returned

the passionate gesture and they fumbled at one another's clothing. They were in their early thirties and hadn't cared about exploring anything but each other. Steam around. rose from both of them, even though they wore clothing that was lighter than it should have been for the conditions. Their building was on the edge of the little settlement, perhaps a church or other gathering place. Behind them loomed the forest in a surprisingly large trail or road. The sun was still too low to shed much light on it, and it remained in deep shade,

almost as dark as the night. About the time Hawke found his way to a place that rapidly increased her excitement, Jenny's eyes blinked open for just a moment, then opened again in earnest and widened in surprise and fear. She moaned out a little cry that Hawke took for building ecstasy. He just started to congratulate himself when the piercing pain drove through his spine, exploded through his chest and pinned him to his lovely sweet wife when it entered her chest and exited her spine. John heard Ronald and Harry call out his name from the campsite. Oh, crap, he thought.

Busted, I guess I'd better head back. He hadn't found any mineshafts, but he had found a wonderful overlook. He'd taken some photos and completed a rough sketch and some notes to boost his memory when he wrote about it. He picked up his pace, and about the time the two guys repeated their calls from different areas, he rounded the last corner and came into view of the others. Ronald saw him and looked relieved. He and Harry approached him, and Ronald spoke quietly.

Please don't do that again. There's a reason we assign safety buddies and have people check out. We care first about the safety of each of our guests. John studied the ground at their feet intently. I know, I'm sorry. I just needed some solitude. It's how I work. "'He was fine.

"'Tard you had to find him "'and bring him back to the camp. "'The old man's voice rassed behind John. "'John looked up and around "'as Jim's hand clasped his shoulder. "'I wouldn't let anything happen to dear John. "'He found a great overlook. "'It might be a good place to camp

"'for your next group.' "'He winked in his boisterous manner "'at Harry and Ronald, "'and John cringed inwardly. "'Ah, the old creeped spite on me. "'Not sure, dear John, Johnny's any better than Johnny. Les and Kim walked quickly down the street towards the rest of the group.

When they saw the four men gathered and the two young women sidling up to the group, they decided to join them and tell them their news. Hey guys, this place is kind of weird and spooky. Les interjected. We found a room in the back of the saloon, probably the owners of personal quarters, but there were also cots lined up on one wall. three of them with curtains between them.

The whole place was cleaner and in better shape than it should be. Harry and Ronald realized that almost all of the group were gathered. Harry cleared his throat. Likely it was used as a brothel. Not like in the movies, having these parts, folks would have crowded into a space to do their business. Hey, look, once Hawke and Jenny get back, we'll get together and plan out our hike for the day.

It's a pretty easy trial, but there's this one. one water crossing that may be a little tricky, and the train is rough in places. Horgie! Jenny! Harry called out, toward the overgrown fire road at the end of the town. John could hear Ronald calling faintly from the other end of the settlement, echoed by other voices from a couple of more directions. He and Jim stood near a large old structure to get out of the wind. He noticed that Jim was studying a snowdrift against the wall,

probably considering whether to pee on it. He internally grouched. He was a little startled when the old man's rusty voice elicited his opinion. See anything on about this drift? John sighed and took a look. No, it's not as smooth as the rest and it's big, but nothing unusual. Jim gave him a sidelong glance. Good.

Anything else? John studied it for a brief moment. No, it's just a pile of snow. Who cares? Jim's look soured. If you compare it to the others, that's another problem. They're all against the northeastern walls. This is against the western wall.

There are also, if you look closely, some odd, very large footprints and maybe some midden prints. It was packed in place. John's interest was piqued. He took a closer look. He had no experience to guide him except that of his safety buddy. He shrugged, and about that time, time Harry, who'd continue to call out for Hawke and Jenny several times while he and Jim studied the

drift, approached. Guys, I think we really need to rally and organise a search. They may stray too far away to hear us and respond, or they may be in distress and unable to respond. They may even have found a cave or a shaft. He trowed off, clearly concerned and speculating aloud. Jim went through his Socratic routine once more, and Harry quickly noted the oddities. Those two carefully shifted the snow, brushed it aside a layer at a time. It soon turned from a white, clean pack to dark crimson with a faint metallic odour. John understood before Jim said it. Blood. Looks like it goes deep into the drift. We have been unable to contact the rest of the service team by radio, Ronald announced, so I'll take a safety pair back with me directly to the

pickup side. We'll occasionally check the radio, but in any case, we'll get help. Rest you will stay here with Harry and continue a limited search. Anyone want to volunteer to go with me? Dakota and Hannah and Les and Kim all volunteered. In the end, Roll decided to take the two young women. They were clearly the most upset and in need of extraction. Les and Kim would be more calm and thus more useful in search than the girls would be. They gathered gear and set off within the half hour. Harry assigned Jim to his search team and put John with Les and Kim on a second search team to look for a specific sector and then meet in an hour.

They would repeat the process to search different sectors. Then, once we search the town, we'll expand and do a two-hour search in the world of no series. this is a very limited search i'll take jim who's had tracking experience try to find the trail from the snowdrift this looks like animal predation but i can't think of anything not even a bear that could snatch two grown humans with no noise or mess he closed his mouth and looked at jim who nodded john was a little energized there was obviously a mystery possibly a deadly one in play but he could still detach himself from the fear for the safety of others. He wasn't in any danger.

He was glad of his change in safety partners. Les and Kim seemed like steady types, and while they were sociable, even amiable, they were not as assertive and outward as was that old walking fossil gym. John simply disliked the man's generation, boomers. Yeah, they were selfish, self-righteous and racist in his view. His professors had all agreed on that, even the ones who'd been boomers. He followed the couple as they returned to the saloon.

They wanted his opinion on the place. They actually cared what he thought. Jim had just made him uncomfortable with his questions. He felt a little creeped out in the dark interior, but he agreed that there should have been more dust and more decay, he supposed. The little room in the back was pretty odd. Of course he thought the entire town was odd. Who'd want to live in the frozen north?

To stay out here in this isolated place all the time? What was wrong with these people? Were they just greedy colonialists? He had to rob the native population of their resources. These glum thoughts pursued him as he tramped along in the wake of the rest of his team. They checked the rest of the structures in their sector. As they headed back for the first hourly checking, he noticed that the sky had clouded and lowered.

More snow. Harry and Jim approached, exactly on time. Annoyingly, he glowed at them, showing off their competence, flaunting their toxic masculinity. He wanted to commune with nature, but these people looked at the natural world as a challenge to be overcome. Definitely a trail, Harry began. We were able to follow a little way, but it soon became obscured. He looked up and sniffed. definitely more snow on the way. Maybe we should make the next search two hours, getting as much as possible before it hits.

The rest of the group agreed, and once they'd finished the building searches, John led his group to the overlook he discovered. At least he'd get some personal enjoyment from that. While Les and Kim crowded into the space that John had coveted, he stepped back into the tree line. The first flakes of snow drifted down, and the libraries swore them playfully about

before they eventually and inevitably touched a surface and stuck there steadfast to lay the foundation of a collection his poetic thoughts were interrupted when he saw something out among the trees something pale ghostly spiky

he heard a murmuring whispering chant just on the edge of his hearing and then Jorge's voice come on a little boy it was quavering hungry and a little off

Kim turned did you say something John there was concern in her voice Les turned with her his brow raised in question they all heard the voice from an indeterminate distance come

help a friend mostly hawke hay's voice let's spoke up and john started a little the voice had mesmerized his attention sounds like he may be heard maybe jenny's with him let's go see he followed his own assertion and started to walk into the trees john noted that the pale figure was no longer in sight they walked toward the direction from which the voice had emanated after a couple of hundred yards they heard a voice to the right, Jenny this time. Come on, we need help. They all turn like members of a flock. The voice sounded again from a little deeper into the woods. They walked towards it once more, and then the silence was broken by the beeps of the alarm

on the watch that Les wore, to alert them that it was time to rendezvous at the centre of the settlement. Ronald led his two charges along the steady descent. He knew of a trail that they'd explored last fall. The young women kept up. They were both fit, just scared. Well, now he noted that they appeared relieved.

He was actually relieved as well. Something had taken those nice people. Had a nasty feel about it. He wanted the full team around him. They hustled down towards the river, and the forest grew in closely, and the trail became crowsy. He didn't recall this stretch, but as long as it was downhill, he was sure it was in the right direction.

When they took a rest break, he asked Dakota and Hannah how they were faring. They assured him that they were doing well. Ronald looked up and back the way they'd come. Ah, looks like snow. It's probably already hidden the rest of the group. We should make it to the river before it starts in earnest. From within the heavy brush a querulous voice called Jenny's voice

Come on, help It sounded familiar to their buddy But weak and breathing As though it was distressed Ronald felt a little sick There was no way Jenny could have beaten them Or gotten ahead Was there?

Well perhaps if she and Hoggay had left before us Still what were the chances that they'd end up on the same path. Jenny! Hannah called out toward the brush. She stood in cradle her neck to see. Dakota stood alongside him. Ronald slowly rose to his feet.

Wait, I don't think that's Jenny. If it is, she may be hurt. Stay here on the trail. I'll go look. It may have been a wild animal that took them. Just stay in place. Keep calling to her. Reassure her.

He stalked forward. into the shadows and around the lower level growth. Jenny, Jorge, you're there. Keep talking to us. Hannah and Dakota echoed his calls and encouragements. He found several large boulders from a long-ago slide. They'd knocked over some larger trees and allowed the brush to grow. The voice sounded once more, this time from just on the other side of the largest rock.

Come, help us. he caught a hint of white spikes antlers he realized they hovered just above the high point on the rock weird he rounded the boulder

just a weird pole with white painted antlers on top he felt a bony arm envelop his throat from behind and others entwined his arms and he heard a last whisper in his right ear in his own voice hell

Jim looked tired he was a pretty old man after all ah this is not my specialty but I've seen and heard of things like it we're in a dangerous position probably best to stay here to wait we definitely need to stay in pairs they'd move their camp into the saloon building

as the snowstorm had increased its intensity throughout the afternoon and evening John was tired himself and a little shaken. They'd rallied and then gone back to search the area where they'd heard the voices. They'd been nothing to see in the snowfall had grown more intense until they gave up calling, gave up the search. Jorge and Jenny were out there and they needed help. He resented that Harry and Jim had caught off the efforts to come back here and huddle.

Then the wind held outside and he realized that they'd been right. Still, human lives were at stake. He hated that they were right, flouting their competence. Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked at the howling walls. Oh, I hope Richard and the girls made it to the river. Maybe you was able to get out of transmission. Look, I'm not criticizing it any way,

but I'm not so sure you actually heard Hawking and Jenny. The mountains and contain all kind of weird noises. The way the wind whispers through the trees. It can create audio illusions. No, delusions. I'm not trying to say anything offensive. He looked back into the fire that danced merrily in the central hull. All kinds of strange noises in those words.

He gave a shiver and stared into the empty distance. Later, in the deep of night, a sound awakened John. He tried to burrow his body and consciousness back. into peaceful slumber, but the sound grew louder and more intense, knocking, not pounding at the outer door. The winds howled with a little less fury, and a wailing voice demanded, Help, let me hear. It was Ronald's voice. Maybe they'd had to turn back and gotten caught in the snow. John sat up. He saw that the rest of the party was already awake and, most up. Les and Kim sat together in their double sleeping bag. Harry stood near the inner door of the

vestibule. Jim stood and was bent over his pack, his hand on something, but his face turned towards the entrance. Furious Powny. Need you help? The voice wailed. Well, are you going to let them in sight? Kim asked. Sounds like Ronald. probably the girls, they need help. Jim rasped out quietly and coldly. And that's not Ronald. And why would he need us to open the door? There's no lock on it.

We pulled it to and flipped the wind latch, but that works on either side of the portal. Les joined in on his wife's side. Well, maybe they're hurt. They would change his voice and maybe keep him from turning the latch. Harry looked over it. I've known Ronald for several years. That's not him. Anyone who could pound that hard is not hurt too badly to flip a switch. John noted that Jim had stood, he ranked. In his hand he clutched a gun,

a squarish one with a long barrel. Oh, I can't believe that crazy old bastard. Those are illegal. How do you even sneak it into the country? He's crazy. Why do you have that, that Gone, he started out to his safety buddy. Jim spared him a glance. I better have it, not need it, than to need it and not have it. Don't worry, it won't act on its own. Only does what I tell it to do. Unfortunately, I only have one, spare magazine.

He nodded to Harry, whose expression shifted from concern to relieve. The pounding shook the outer door until it quivered, and a screaming well that sounded of several voices viring for a while. horrific note screamed in frustration and hate the swushing and howling of the wind increased as the last of the moaning wells drifted away in the storm the pounding stopped and silence rain eventually everyone settled and drifted into various states of consciousness john's nerves were taught and he shuddered with the thought of what might be out there in that storm waiting Hannah looked at the go to go to an alarm.

Why won't he answer us? Dakota looked back in consternation, a verged on panic. I don't know. I think we should go. It's just run. Her gaze darted down the trail the way they'd been headed. Hannah glanced back and forth between where Ronald had disappeared

into the brush and borders and the trail down which she wished to flee to with her friend. He didn't go far. "'We should check on him. He may be hurt.' "'Help! Come here, help!' "'A quavering hoarse version of Ronald's voice, "'with a hint of vile hunger emitted from just beyond their sight.' "'Both young women were startled and clutched at one other in fright.

"'I think it's wronged. He must be hurt. "'We have to try and help him,' Hannah insisted. "'Dakota still resisted. "'No, where he? didn't sound quite like him i don't want to like wade off into that brush and behind those rocks there could be like what anything out there hannah decided the matter she straightened and assumed a look of determination i'm going to check but what if it's one of those things dakota white Hannah ignored her friend and stalked forward along the same pathway that Ronald had used.

She shortly rounded the big border and saw blood, far too much blood. She opened her mouth and began to shriek when she looked just beyond the next set of rocks and saw the pale, thin figure with the spikes and anlets. The elongated face agape at her. She barely felt the instant dull ache, caused by blunt force trauma to the side of her head. Her vision grade, and then, with the next blow to the base of her skull, it winked out and she plummeted into the endless dark.

Dakota stood, shivering and bouncing in the cold, and with fear chasing through her nervous system. When she heard the sound of her friend's voice as it rose in terror and was cut suddenly short, she almost collapsed. Then from behind, she heard another voice. come on help she fled as quickly as she could she followed the path when she could see it and otherwise simply ran in the direction with a downhill slope and the least resistance she caught glimpses of the thing out amongst the bowls and heavy branches the pale thin spiky figure too tall too thin the head misshapen

She never looked long enough to make out any details. Then it was there, in front of her, blocking her path. She skidded to a halt, too frightened and out of breath to scream. She cast her eyes about for any route to escape. Nothing. She turned 180 degrees and sprinted at her significantly diminished capacity. She made it a good 100 yards, before she fell to tug at her toes, and the earth rushed up to meet her. The air

whooed from her lungs, and she lay there sprawled for a moment, stunned by the unexpected and hard impact. She began to scramble her limbs to rise and continue her precipitous flight, but a weight pressed on her back, pressed her down to the ground. Rough hands seized her arms and pull them outward to either side. Something grasped her legs. She tried to turn over, but she was completely helpless. She heard a woman scream and screech, at first muffled and then, very loudly.

She realized that she heard her own, piteous cries. Come on, Hannah's voice shakily said. John really had to go. There was a bank of outhouses. that ran behind the building, one of the reasons they'd chosen it. He was terribly afraid, but his personal situation had become urgent. There'd been no more disturbances for hours. Everyone else knew quietly.

He gave it up and rolled out of his sleeping bag. He dressed in his warmest attire and quietly left the building. He left the inner door unlatched and peaked out around the edges of the outer door frame before he slowly pushed open the outer door. The wind had died down considerably, and he saw that the snow had grown deep. It was still coming down heavily, so that he could see no more than ten feet ahead of himself,

even with his very nice flashlights. He made his way along the outer wall and followed it until he reached the area where he knew the facilities to be. He met outside, and once he was free of his heaviest clothing, and knew that he'd made it without making a mess, he sighed in relief. As he finished and realised that there was no TP, he fished in his pockets for some tissue paper. He'd kept plenty on hand for his leaky notes.

He had an odd noise just outside the little structure, a crunching squeak, faint but noticeable. He resumed his hygiene and heard it again, this time accompanied by heavy rasping. "'Ah, that stupid old bastard,' he growled inwardly. "'He followed me out to the crap. "'He takes this safety buddy garbage way too seriously. "'Maybe he just needed to go.

"'Come on, let me hear.' "'It was indeed Jim's voice. "'Maybe. "'Yet it quavered and the pronunciation was off, just enough.' "'He froze in place. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in deeply. No mean accomplishment considering the stench of his current situation. When he dared open his eyes, he saw that the feeble light from outside had darkened even further for a moment,

as he stared through the not quite evenly joined planks that made up the building. An eye gleam through a not hole, a reddish, roomy eye. He clicked on his flashlight and directed the beam at it. It vanished, and he heard a loud hiss from outside. And then the pounding began, like on the door to the saloon. It shook this much smaller and less stable structure. If he hadn't just finished, well, he would have crapped himself. Jim gently shook Harry awake.

Hey, buddy, they're back. as the guy rubbed his eyes and attempted to focus Jim continued Outhouse John's in the John He stepped over and awakened Les and Kim Everyone was groggy and unhappy We have to decide whether or not to rescue John

Or just to wait out the darkness It may not matter Horge and Jenny disappeared in the morning The outer door banged open The inner door slowly inched inward as the group watched in horror and readiness. Jim properly gripped his pistol and took up a nice pyramid stance. Harry held his brush knife in one hand and his camp knife in the other

and stood posed as ready as he was able. Lairz and Kim each hefted their hardwood walking sticks. John's voice shivered from the other side of the door. Come on, open the door. bam shouts bam bam bam bam blab yo shouts and screams of fear and pain thuds of flesh striking flesh wet noises the sounds rudely impinged on john's straining senses he'd risen and gotten his clothes back in order and now he had made a decision he fled he opened the door gently looked around and then bolted out and to one side not the direction of the saloon doors He darted around a few smaller structures and then turned toward the trail that led to his overlook. There were rocks there. He could find shelter away from the rest of the group, away from these things.

The noises from the town faded even before he found his shelter. He knew then that he was on his own. Something was stalking him, something that was angry, hungry and wasted. He'd heard of these masters, read the tales of the other. writers, Wendigo, if he recall correctly. In any case, his best chance was to lie low until the snow stopped and dawn arrived. Then he could trick out of the area and back down to the river. He'd follow it until he found a town or settlement, even an isolated country home.

In the meantime, he'd ignore it. That was the tactic that survivors had used in the stories. maybe maybe this was some other kind of cryptid or ghost john's eyes snapped open dry and stinging with the cold he rubbed at them and stared around himself disoriented for a moment fell asleep i guess the rest will do me some good oh looks like nothing killed or ate me his thoughts wandered with fatigue and chill he sat up and looked around to ensure that he was alone he dug through his pockets and found a lone energy bar breakfast then a pee then a flea he stomped around for a little while and tried to get some blood flowing so that he could think straight he recalled that the blood trail that jim and harry had followed led parallel to and occasionally followed an old fire road it eventually reached a larger fire road he could attempt to follow the trail that the group had taken with the dogslets it seemed the best option was most familiar to him yet he'd have to circle the settlement he didn't care to go back through those crazy old buildings forget the rest of the group they had to be toast with nothing else to do and a need for speed he set off through the forest of fear to circle the town on the side away from the fire road of blood No good options, he muttered to himself as he tromp through the now deep snow.

Late morning, the snow began again, lighter and with less wind, but it made the trek ever more arduous. He circled the town and found the train. It was hard to detect under the new pristine blanket of frost and snow, but he managed. About midday, he had a cry in the distance. That same quavering, hungry wail that he'd heard that. first night. He'd forgotten about this until that moment and shuddered with the memory. He increased his pace for a while, but then slowed once more. He had to conserve his energy. The cold was leaching the vitality from him, and he stayed thirsty. He'd polished off the last

of the water in his emergency bottle, stuffed away in his hooded parker. Well, he had to hand it to Harry and Ronald. They'd packed his gear, well, had placed emergency rations in his immediate clothing. They were competent, so he'd have to give them a high rating on his review. He giggled a little, hysterically. No, seize control back from old Jack Frost. The wailing cry once more shattered any chance of calm. It was much closer.

He'd been hunted and herded the rest of the day, crossing pathways being driven into rank wilderness. Now here he was, pitiful weapons to hand, ready to make his last stand. John, that you? A querulous, rasping voice emanated from the dark. It sounded like, no, not him. It's that thing. Naturally it would pick his voice.

A tall, bulky shadow with a peaked, pointed head resolved itself, and shortly he saw puffs of steam rise from it. He realized that he had not seen this from the monster that had haunted his trail all day. He turned his now feeble light, its battery severely depleted toward this new horror. Don't shine it in my eyes, the voice rasped, clearly this time. Just stay calm, and I'll help you. He was that old bastard Jim. He had never been so glad to see another human being.

So, what were you going to do? Beam me with a rock? John revised his estimation. Perhaps there were better people to encounter at this moment. The octogenarian pulled his hand from the pocket of his parker. It was full of pistol. Only one magazine left, 12 rounds tall. Used up the first one than those first two to get inside the saloon,

and then two of their friends outside. Only wounded those two. The rest poured them back into the woods. We followed, thinking that they had you. He assumed an angry look. I guess not. We started tracking again as soon as it was light enough. I picked up your trail just before dark.

John listened, but wasn't sure he understood. So, where are the rest? Jim frowned. We got ambushed around midday. Kim noticed that Les, who was covering the back end of our trail, disappeared. She caught out to us and then turned back to face down trail. She started a walk in that direction. We heard Les's voice, but not, you know, what I mean?

Come on, Kim, he called. Harry and I called to her, but she walked around one of the big firs with branches that reached the ground. By the time we got to where we should have been able to see her, she was gone. he called and looked for science Harry found a bloodstain in the snow we don't know whose blood it was but we decided to get out of the woods altogether followed him what well what I thought they were

he was interrupted by a wailing cry as it faded it rose again from another direction and then another it had finally started the door on John in his exorcist state that there was no single monster in the dark Oh, they were surrounded by many creatures or beings. What are they? Welcome to the territory of the Wendigo tribe.

Jim Ground. John slowly cogitated through that statement. I thought that Wendigo's were monsters that ate people. Legendary monsters. Jim sighed. They're one of several groups that have become legend. The wilds are called wild for a reason. Tough place to live, to find sustenance, especially when the snows come.

Some ancient folk turned to the food most readily at hand, their fellow ancient folk. One tribe in particular got mixed up with the mythologies of a few other tribes. Next thing you know, sneaky, cowardly cannibals became legendary monstrous spirits. The cries had faded but now returned in earnest and from, all directions. Best get ready to fling those rocks, Johnny. Two pale figures emerged from the forest along the same path that Jim had arrived. One brandished a large hatchet and the other a slim javelin.

The javelin throw a slow for a moment to skip into his fling, but a dark figure enveloped his throwing arm and pulled him onto his back. Harry! John realized. They'd set an ambush for the Wendigows and used me as bait. He didn't have time to get too angry at them. The hatchet wielder was almost upon them. He let fly with a rock and caught the person in the chest. It let out a whiff of air and lowered the weapon. About that time he heard a terrible roar that filled his ears with the sharp pain and then ringing. A flash of flame set his eyes to watering. He realized that Jim had fired

had a different threat altogether. More loud and bright bursts punished his senses, and then the bright night went quiet. John was numb, his heart pounded, and his stomach burned. He almost forgot how terribly cold he was. He looked

up in time to see that the axe-man had recovered and raised his weapon to strike Jim from behind. He was too slow in his perception and action was out of the question. Fortunately, for the old man, Harry had finished his victim and now a line of dark red, barely visible in the one light, fountain from hatchet boy's throat.

Oh, he clutched at it, even as he fell to the soft but cold embrace of the snow. He could hear as if he were underwater, and the voices were on the bank. Jim! I got the one in the pony outfit, but the other swore him. His carcass is lightly already gone. best we get back to show to recover some supplies Johnny boy doesn't look too fit I'll show you you all back

John didn't finish the thought he realised that if you didn't get inside soon he'd be dead why is he so competent there were plenty of supplies the search party that looked for John had taken minimal items so that they could carry them if needs be

Jim and Harry made John strip off his clothes that were full of frozen sweat and kept him awake long enough to eat some broth and drink a bottle of water. The hot meal and beginning of rehydration awakened him enough that he started to pay attention. He saw that Jim sat down heavily and turned his back. Harry approached with his little first aid kit. I'm sorry Mr. Brockton. Jim, I don't have much here.

well to dull the pain but you need some stitches to close up that wound john saw that there was a large triple gash across the old man's back oh like something a clock would make that's all right harry haford your turn next and that poke in your hide will need to be cleaned and repacked we'll get both a dose of pain too bad none of these bottles in the old saloon had anything left an enormous weight of fatigue overwhelmed john as he faded into exhausted slumber he heard the easy conversation between two men who had striven against death to save a comment, one for whom they did not particularly care. Him. He faded into a deep sleep that eventually resolved into a nightmare-ridden misery. The pale, spiky thing stood before him. Other vague figures danced around.

He was tied to a pole and could not move his limbs. He ached everywhere and burned. and they were burning him no cooking him at the steak he was a steak on a steak sharp points needled at him and the pale shaggy beings closed in and started to reveal their faces one by one the guides the girls the couples and finally jim his face grew and distorted the antlers rose from the crown of his face his face elongated and his jaws slavoured and gaited he showed shook. He felt a pressure in his side and then shook again. He felt the back of an ice-cold hand touched his forehead. The cold, dead touch of the Wendigo, his mind shouted. A voice, muffled

and quavering, perhaps a little hungry, sounded at the edge of his hearing. We'd be best getting this one moving. He's burning up with a fever, the voice rasped. John had vague impressions of movement of a strong breeze of a whirring sound and then he floated he thought that he must be back in the dream well probably be somewhere before they can get search teams back up that way arm search teams i'm sure john knew that voice wrong no no no hurry then the voice he feared would answer spoke my old outfit will likely have it resolved by then just a matter of recovering bodies and giving the family some closure. A real shame what owl predation can do.

Animals. John forced his eyes open and attempted to speak his disdain at that lie. It all that he could manage was a squeaky crook. Ah, Johnny boy, you've decided to live. Well enough. Jim sounded almost disappointed to John's ear. Yes, every one of consequences agreed that that was what happened.

It would be best for you to agree. There are rewards for those who play the game and less positive consequences for those who don't. Mid-summer. They found clothing and a few bones. Looks like Ronald and Hannah. No signs of the other girl, Dakota. And they'll keep searching.

Those DMT solutions folks did a good job finding one that was left of the party. The forestry manager informed his superior. That old man had some kind of tracking device, at least I had what we guessed. He had no phone or radio. Apparently his daughter is some high, muk-dy-muck at the corporation.

I can't believe they got a chopper up that way so soon after a storm, and knew right where to go. Our folks didn't even know the party was in distress. The girl, who'd once thought of herself as Dakota Dawson, gnawed hungrily at the gristle still attached to the long bone her maid

had provided to her. She'd fought the people of the tribe fiercely at first. Then she'd sunken into a dark depression. Somewhere along the way, she snapped and subconsciously made the decision to join them. She was now a proud member

of the Wendigo Nation. And so once again, we reached 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 once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.