Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Rented A Cabin On WENDIGO MOUNTAIN | Scary Stories

Episode Date: July 28, 2023

They're real... Story from ThatExoGuy Make sure to check out more of their work at u/ThatExoGuy     Original Post: The one I left behind : r/nosleep         Original YouTube link: I Rented A Cabin On WENDIGO MOUNTAIN   For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new scary stories, new true stories, and new creepypasta stories every day!

Are you sure, Mr. Roger? Rachel asked me upon hearing my request. We were outside of her family home, a big but cozy looking house, in a small town near the Appalachians. My pickup truck idled behind us, parked on the side of the road, as we sat there knee-deep in snow. She'd invited me inside for warmth and a cup of tea when I arrived, but I was in a hurry, so I turned her down. I wanted to get it over with as fast as possible and be on my way.

We don't rent out the cabin during the winter, the area is too dangerous during this time of year. Rachel said, trying to dissuade me from my course of action. And she wasn't wrong. The thick snowfall turned the world into a white, shining, slippery mess. One wrong step, one daring turn of the steering wheel, and I'd be in big trouble. But I wasn't worried about the weather or the cold. They'd be the least of my issues. Some friends told me you do.

They said your family rented them the cabin for Christmas the past few years, I said, feigning ignorance. They must have gotten this confused for someone else, Rachel said. My parents haven't rented the cabin during winter for as long as I can remember. How so? I asked, curious to see what her answer would be. Did she already know? Did she have me figured out?

Did she see through the fake name I provided her? From what I understand, a group of people rented it from my grandparents some 30 years ago. The weather trapped them up there for a week. They ran out of supplies and firewood, and all of them died of hunger and hypothermia. Rachel answered. So she didn't know. Not about the avalanche, not about me surviving. And most importantly, not about what we found up there.

I couldn't fault her grandparents for hiding it from her. That week is better left forgotten. I know that. And yet I can't bring myself to do it. To uproot these memories and cast them aside. Their roots are too deep. That sounds terrible. I said after a short pause, with a sad expression that was all too real.

But we'll be careful. I promise. Look, I have supplies for two weeks and an emergency. see GPS beacon. I jabbed a finger over my shoulder as I talked, pointing at my truck. Its bed was indeed filled with supplies and covered by a tarp that gathered snow. It'll be me, my two sons, and their families. We just want a quiet place far away from the city to spend Christmas together, but it's difficult to find one with this pandemic. I understand, Mr. Roger, Rachel said sympathetically.

But I can't. My parents were clear on it. I'm sure you'll find someone else more than willing to rent you a cabin. This close to Christmas? I asked. I doubt it. Look, what was your rate? One forty a night?

I'll pay triple, with a promise to leave the cabin spotless. I hoped that this would convince her, since this stunt would blow through all the savings I had left. gave me a surprised look, but seemed to be thinking the offer over. Fine, she said after a few tense moments. No triple rate. I don't want to rob you of your money, but I have a few conditions. Shoot away, miss, I said, faking a dumb old man smile. Your security deposit will be triple.

I know how wild Christmas parties can get, she said with a half smile. Her lips curled just enough to denote that she wasn't malicious, but that she wouldn't take crap from me either. And I will come up there unannounced to check on you guys. Sound fair? Sounds perfect, I assured her, keeping up my facade. We shook hands, and Rachel invited me inside to take care of the transaction away from the prying eyes of her neighbors.

I wanted to refuse her at first, seeing as the sun. was racing towards the horizon, and I was losing precious moments of its protective light, but I gave in. The last thing I needed was for one of her neighbors to call the cops and risk having them crash my little outing. So I followed her inside, shaking my boots of snow and taking off the layers of clothes that protected me from the biting cold. Rachel led me into the living room and had me sit at a small yet comfortable table next to a raging fireplace. She made herself unseen into the kitchen, with the promise that she'd be hasty and would return with warm tea. Left alone in the room, I looked at the countless family photos adorning the walls.

There were a lot more of them than the last time I passed through here, but the centerpiece was the same. An old family portrait depicting a large group of people hung in the same place above the fireplace. Although, the yellow sheen it had picked up over the years was new. A Christmas carol began singing gently from another room, and Rachel was humming along to it as she returned. In her hands, she carried two ceramic cups painted with winter scenes, with steam rising up and out of them, and spreading a festive smell. She handed me one, depicting a snowman going down a steep hill atop a sleigh, while she

kept the one showing a lumberjack swinging a heavy axe at a fir tree. I took a tentative sip, careful not to burn my tongue on the hot liquid. Clove cinnamon. Orange. I listed and made a show of smacking my lips while taking another sip. And it's subtle, but I'd be willing to bed apple cider. Rachel gave a short, courteous laugh. She blew air into her own mug a couple of times and took a sip as well. Good thing we weren't betting then, Mr. Roger, she said with a soft smile. I shrugged my shoulders, returning her smile and kind. Thirty years of making tea and cooking Christmas dinners for everyone will do that to a person. I said, and oh, how much I wished for that to be the truth, for me to cook for a large family, toiling between stoves and pots,

only to see their smiles around the dinner table. how I wished for my reality to be different, for me to not cook dinner all by myself, no matter the occasion. But reality is cold, bitter, and apologetic. It never cared much for my wishes. I bet, Rachel said, her smile extending a little. And you'd win that bet. I said, burying the painful memories that threatened to serve. surface under sweet lies.

After all, in that moment I wasn't Aiden. I was a fifty-something-year-old man and a widower with no family to speak of for the last thirty of those years. No, I was sweet old Mr. Roger, with a large family waiting for my word back at home, hoping to spend Christmas together at this particular cabin that claimed everything from Aiden. A sweet lie, a masquerade. convincing that I wanted to believe in it myself for as long as possible. Say, I spoke before Rachel got to talk.

Is that portrait over there of your grandparents? I asked, pointing at the photo. Yes, Rachel said, and I could feel her love for them radiating from her words. My grandparents, my young mother and father, and all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins on my father's side. She looked at it longingly for a moment, and it didn't take me long to realize why. Her grandparents were about my age when that photo was taken. They were probably no longer among the living.

Regretting the scars I opened up in her, I steered the conversation in a more cheery direction. So I take it that sweet little girl in a summer dress as you. I asked, Mr. Roger, do you have a sick sense by any chance? Rachel asked with amusement, and I took her jab with a proud smile. Right again. That's five-year-old me holding my mother's hand. I was a clumsy kid and needed the support. I wanted to tell her that she'd grown into a splendid woman since the last time I saw her,

that the fire she carries in her eyes right now is something she's always possessed, passed down from her mother, who got it from her grandmother. But I abstained. Oh, don't worry about it. I said, most young kids are like that. I should know. We exchanged some more pleasant small talk after that. I was enjoying my time with Rachel so much.

I was so engrossed in the Mr. Roger persona that the passage of time escaped my notice. The grandfather clock in the room striking three in the afternoon was what opened my eyes, And I realized it was too late to make the drive and the trek up to the cabin today. Nightfall would catch even a young lad in his prime on that attempt, of which I was neither. My, how time has passed, I said. I'm so sorry for taking so much of it from you, miss. Let's conclude the payment, then I'll be on my way. Oh, it's not a problem.

Rachel reassured me. Your company is a pleasure, Mr. Roger. You're not holding me back from anyone, don't worry. I'm all alone in here. I didn't want to probe her on the matter. It wasn't my place to, and I had no interest in it either. But the sad expression that flashed across her face for a split second told me everything I needed to know.

She had no husband or children to speak of. With her parents away to spend Christmas somewhere else, she was left to spend it alone. With a knowledge of the craft that only comes with time and practice, Rachel calculated my security deposit in rates for four days, up at the cabin in a heartbeat. She displayed the total for me and wanted to walk me through the process to assure me that she wasn't asking for a single extra penny, but I refused, partly because math was never one of my fortays, and partly because I believed her. I pulled out my wallet, handed her the money down to the last dollar, and got up to leave. Well, it's been a pleasure, Miss Rachel, but it's getting late. I'm afraid I have to go. She got up to see me to the door, following with delicate steps that pitter-pattered on the hardwood floor. I reached the coat hanger where I left my padded jacket and went to retrieve it,

but Rachel stopped me. Are you planning to go up to the cabin right away, Mr. Roger? She asked, making no attempt to hide the worry in her voice. Yes, I lied. I wouldn't try to. I reconciled with the idea that I would spend the night in my truck, but that was something that sweet little Rachel didn't need to know. Don't you have a place to stay around here?

It's almost dark outside. It would be too dangerous for you to attempt it. I don't, I admitted, knowing full well where this was going. The only thing I didn't know for sure is if I was on board with it or not. Then stay here until morning, Rachel offered, beaming at the prospect of company. No, no, I can't. I said, though at that point I would have regretted her taking me up on my words and retracting the offer.

I've been enough of a bother for one evening. Oh, don't be silly, Mr. Roger," Rachel said, reaching for my hand and cupping it with both of hers. Small, warm, soft things, so out of place around my burly, calloused palms. For a moment, I felt like a grandparent accosted by a loving grandchild. There's plenty room in the guest bedroom. Free of charge. Well, how can I argue with that? I said, smiling down at her, I'll just go to the truck quickly, I have to turn off the engine

and call everyone. I'll fix us up another batch of tea then, she said, and took off towards the kitchen with a newfound spring in her steps. Oh, and pull the truck into the driveway, wouldn't want to risk a ticket. What a lovely woman, I caught myself thinking as I dressed up. Just like I said I'd do, I walked out to the truck. I pulled it into the driveway like Rachel asked me to and faked a short phone call in case she watched me through a window. Though, thinking back on it, I did it more for myself than for her.

To help the lie along in the vain hope its roots would dig deep enough tonight to uproot my reality. Back inside the house, I heard Rachel calling for me from the kitchen. Her words guided me towards the well-furnished and equipped room, and I found a chair ready for me at the empty table. I sat down, picking up the slaying snowman cup that she refilled with fresh steaming tea. Rachel had put on an apron while I was gone. A frilly black thing that would have been right at home in a housewife cooking show. Not that I watched any of those. She did lapse between cabinets and the double fridge, retrieving

pots and pans and ingredients that she carefully gathered on the table. It didn't take me long to guess the menu based on the items in front of me. Let me help with that, I offered. She stopped dead in her tracks, perched on her toes as she tried to reach a high cupboard. A quick swivel had her facing me, and I could see she hadn't grasped the exact meaning of my words. Sure thing, she said, taking a step away as I walked over to her and retrieved the box that her fingers could barely touch. I meant with the cooking in general. I clarified. Her fingers paused briefly around mine, her attempt at getting the box from me cut short.

Considerate payment for the room, and the plate I assume I'll be getting. Correct assumption again, Mr. Roger. She said, her deer in the headlights look vanishing in favor of her smile. You're on a roll tonight, and fine, but just know that I'll feel bad about accepting your help the entire time. Another playful jab. This one a bit more daring, but not any less. obvious. I took it with a grin and helped her pick out the final bits and bobs. We stood side by side, taking in the chaotic assortment of ingredients laid out haphazardly in front

of us. Whatever we make, it has to be both fast and flavorful. I decided taking the lead from her. Which felt disrespectful, yes, I was in her kitchen after all. But it didn't look like she was making any progress on pinpointing any particular. recipe. True, she admitted. Any suggestions? We went back and forth for a few minutes, bouncing ideas off of each other until we settled on a menu that we were both satisfied with. Buttery mashed potatoes, an assortment of roasted veggies, roasted turkey breast, a spiced cranberry sauce, a gingerbread trifle for dessert, and a quick and dirty egg dog to get tipsy. For the more culinary, literate ones among you, yes, all of those things are

anything but fast, especially the turkey. But here's a quick tip while I'm at it. Butterfly, your turkey breasts. It'll cut down on your cooking time considerably without sacrificing any of the flavor. At any right, I'm not here to host a cooking show. After spending a few more minutes discussing the details of the recipes, which is a crucial detail if you cook along with some someone else. We sprang into action. Rachel tackled the mashed potatoes and roasted veg, I took on the turkey, the cranberry sauce and the trifle, and we decided to meet in the middle for the eggnog while helping each other out here or there when an extra pair of hands was needed.

Dashing between the pots by her side was a lovely time. To the point I didn't mind how long it took for everything to cook. And by her smile and dancey demeanor, I figured she didn't mind either. We were both having a blast, one that we didn't know we desperately needed, until we received it. Taking a short breather after I deposited the well-seasoned turkey breast in the oven next to Rachel's veggies, I couldn't help but watch her for a while. The smile on her lips, the way her hips swayed as she kept on her toes, her warm presence

that brighten the atmosphere. She reminded me so much of my Jennifer. My sweet, lovely, Jennifer. The fun times we had as young, reckless kids. All the hikes and traveling we did as young adults. She'd been the soul of the party wherever we went, and more than that, she'd been my soul, the integral part that made me—me. She was my one and only, the person I wanted by my side through thick and thin, the woman

I wanted to age with. My mind threatened to sink like a cannonball, down into the murky waters of what-ifs and could have beens, and I was entirely unprepared to stop it, just as always. I was about to go on a stroll down memory lane, to watch my being slowly splinter into a million pieces while I peered uselessly at the resulting shards that I didn't know how to pick up and put back together into the hole they'd once been. I guess Rachel noticed my thousand-yard stare, the way my eyes fixated on a point millions of miles away. She froze, looking at me with worry from the other side of the kitchen. Mr. Roger? She asked, taking a tentative step towards me.

Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? I'll fetch you a glass of water. As I came to my senses, my mind easing back into the present. I caught my reflection in the smooth surface of the refrigerator. Blurry as it was, I could still make out just how pale my skin went. I'm, I said, the words leaving my throat weak and frail. I'm fine, Jen. No need to worry. A glass of water would do me plenty good. I went around the table, sitting down in my chair as I tried to regain my composure. Rachel got a clean glass from a cabinet and filled it with ice-cold water from the fridge. She rushed over to me, putting the glass in my hands, and leaning over me as she checked my forehead with the back of her hand. A sweet gesture, but completely misguided,

since panic attacks don't bring about fever. Thanks, I said, taking a glass from her and taking a hearty swig. And please stop calling me Mr. Just her. Just Just Roger is fine." Okay, Roger, Rachel said. Are you okay? Do you have any medication you need to take? She knelt in front of me as she talked, staring into my eyes and cupping my hand with both of hers.

The amusement in her eyes was gone. It's placed taken by an urgency and worry for my well-being that I didn't like nearly as much. No, no, I'm fine. I reassured her, I'm not that old. It was just a harmless panic attack, that's all. I'll be right as rain in a few. She didn't seem convinced by my words, but she got up. The food didn't care about my panic attack.

It kept boiling and threatened to burn regardless of my mental state. She did another lap of the kitchen, stirring what needed to be stirred, tasting and adding salt to what needed more of it. But it was clear that she got scared by my episode. Hey, look, I said, when I could take it no longer and got to my feet. I'm fine. Promise. I'll help you finish up.

It's too much for a single person. I, it's just that she stuttered. If I feel bad, I'll sit back down, I said, getting back to my cooking duties. Pinky swear? Rachel asked out of the blue, I turned to find her nexima, with her hand extended and her pinky finger wiggling around. Pinky swear, I said, twisting my own pinky finger around hers. I'll be fine.

Okay, she accepted, and her smile made a shy but welcomed comeback. I promise I'll watch you more carefully to make sure you're fine. With the strain of my episode hanging in the air, we continued cooking. Rachel warmed back up after a while, and by the time dinner was ready, she was cracking jokes again. We met up in the middle for the eggnog like we initially planned, poured ourselves a healthy glass of it, and plated up. Dinner was tasty, but I didn't expect any less from the two of us at that point.

She proved she could hold her own in the kitchen, next to a veteran cook like myself. You're an amazing chef, she said as she tasted my contributions to the menu. Mrs. Jen is one lucky lady getting to eat like this every night. That's if you do all the cooking, of course. I didn't mean to. No, no, I said. But did it double take as her words finally hit me? Where? I stammered, feeling myself go white again. Where do you know that name from? Rachel looked taken aback.

She fumbled her utensils, dropping her spoon into her bowl as she tried to form words. It's, that's what you called me when, when I came to help you earlier. She stuttered. And I figured, I assumed, I mean, did I? I said, waving a hand through the air to diffuse the situation. Don't mind that. I just tend to get a bit. confused at times, mixing up times and places, you know.

I returned to eating, hoping Rachel would drop it. To my dismay, she didn't. Her curiosity was mounting to levels beyond her ability to hold in. But don't get me wrong, I don't blame her or anything. I would have just preferred if she didn't try to dig deeper. I'm... I'm sorry for prying. She said timidly.

I hope I didn't cause you discomfort by assuming there's a Mrs. Jen. I sighed, finished what was already scooped up in my spoon, and placed it down next to my plate. There was a Mrs. Jen. I corrected and felt the mood sour right away a long, long time ago. Sorry for bringing it up. Thank you for the delicious meal. Rachel instantly went as cold as the snow outside, but I couldn't falter for it. The turns this evening took were probably as confusing for her as they were numerous, not

knowing how to feel about me anymore was only natural for her. I reminded myself that I was still a stranger in her house, no matter how well we clicked up to that point. And I was a seemingly mentally unstable stranger to top it off. She cleared the table, gathered the leftovers into air-time. tight plastic container she placed into the refrigerator for later and began washing the dishes. All of the wind in her sails was gone, and I couldn't help but feel guilty. Both for blowing, said wind, and for leading her on like I did.

I didn't want to admit it. I intentionally misread her signals in my deluded attempt to find out what having a child or grandchild would feel like. And to top it all off, to my complete and utterword. her disgust for myself as a person. Near the end, I did start seeing her for the beautiful, flirtatious woman that she was, and I liked what I saw. I excused myself from the table, asked for the bathroom and the guest room, and followed the directions Rachel provided. By the time I was done splashing cold water into my face in order to help

me sober up, she was done in the kitchen and heading up to her own room. She only briefly paused by the half-open door, handing me the keys to the cabin. I might sleep in a bit late. She told me, Help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge. You'll need the strength for the truck. I'll come to check on you and your family like I promised. Good night.

I wished her as she left, but my words went unanswered. The only thing I heard was her locking the door to her room from the inside. I made it to the guest room a few minutes later, finding a tidy bed with a nightstand in a drawer next to it. The space was cramped, but homely, and most importantly, it was warm. I dressed down to my shirt and boxers, seeing as I had no pajamas at hand, and walked over to the large window after folding my clothes neatly and placing them on the nightstand. Free of my soft boots, my prosthetic left foot clicked against the floor at every step. I said that this was a small town, but I'm part of my soft boots. I'm part of my soft boots. I'm part of my prosthetic left foot clicked against the floor at every step. I said, I said that

this was a small town, but I'm partly wrong in that assessment. It's just two lines of houses, one on each side of a central road, populated entirely by people, with land up in the mountains and cabins for rent all year round. The window of my temporary abode faced the backyard, which ended with a sturdy fence that kept out the countless miles of untainted forests that sprawled behind it. I had a nice view of the breathtaking wilderness, and I put it to good use for a while, standing by the window and peering out. I had one question that desperately needed answering, so I reached for the window's handle and opened it wide. The cold winter winds invaded the room right away, sapping it of warmth and sending chills down my exposed body. But I didn't pull away.

I pushed into the frigid air, allowing it to freeze me further as I sharpened my hearing. The minute background noises of the pine forest grew more apparent until I could make out the distant sounds of critters going about their nightly business. A few minutes later, on the verge of hypothermia, I heard what I was waiting for. The forest went quiet for miles and miles across, and a howlough. All descending from the highest mountain tops claimed that silence for itself. It was such an ugly, soul-rending call that it managed to chill me in a manner that the coldest air couldn't hope to match. A warped, unnatural mix, somewhere between man and the lowest form of beast to walk this earth.

The scream of endless hunger and agony. solely at me. I jumped back from the window, having gotten all the confirmation I needed. After closing it, I turned the radiator up all the way and all but nearly hugged it to warm myself faster. The stunt I pulled was risky. So long as I was cold, the beast could find me. But it was the only way I knew to drag it out of hiding and have it make its presence known. When sensation returned to my toes and fingers, and I was sure I was warm enough to not be found anymore. I went to sleep. I covered myself with a thick blanket and succumbed to a fitful sleep. Morning came fast, leaving me surprised when the sun's first rays reflected off of the spotless snow and into my room.

It had been a long time since I last slept without an eye open, three decades now to the day. Feeling well rested, I got dressed and left Rachel's house. As tempted as I was, I didn't take any of the leftovers. By 8 a.m. I was already driving. The furthest point up the mountain I could reach with my truck was about half an hour away. And I had a three-hour brutal trek through knee-deep snow to look forward to after that. I wasn't exactly infused about it, but I was hasty regardless. I parked the truck in the clearing where the road ends.

ended, locked it up, and took to its bed. The first thing to come out from under the tarp was a sleigh, followed closely behind by the harness I'd used to pull it. More items came, and I strapped them all firmly to the sleigh. A Dane axe with a silver-coated blade, a chainsaw, a shotgun with both normal and silver pellets, a couple canisters of gasoline, a few jars and vials of my own blood that I gathered and kept refrigerated over the last month or so, and some other miscellaneous items like changes of clothes and a first-aid kit. Starting through the snow, I soon hit the incline that would only grow steeper as I advanced. The path I took was one I knew, and I used familiar landmarks to guide my way. A weird-shaped tree here, a large boulder that hasn't moved in

millennia there. They jolted memories in me, and before I knew it, I found myself reminiscing of better times as I trudged ahead. Laughter and banter among friends spawned between the trees, echoing through my mind as if they were real, and not merely echoes from a different era. Snow crunching beneath our boots as we merrily made our way towards a much-expected vacation. Jennifer, by my side, me inhaling her intoxicating perfume with each labored breath. The sensation of her warm skin against mine. It was enough to bring me to tears. In the middle of the forest, hours away from anyone, I cried.

The salty drops running down my cheeks froze in the frigid air, threatening my skin with streaks of frostbite. a while, seeing that the cabin was about two miles away, I wiped the tears and refocused on the task at hand. It's a good place to start. I mumbled to no one in particular. I pulled out the first vial of blood and bit down on its cap to remove it. With an arching motion, I spilled it over the pine needles and fresh snow behind me, careful

to not get any on the sleigh. My speed faltered as the incline grew beneath me, but I kept going, marking the forest behind me with blood every 500 feet or so. After 20 vials, and the realization that I miscalculated the distance, I opened one of the jars as well and dipped my gloved fingers into it. Three more markings later, I reached the clearing that the cabin was built in. I expected another flood of painful memories when I laid eyes. on it, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out it wasn't the case.

The cabin itself looked nothing like I remembered it, but then again, why did I think it would? After that week we spent in it, of course it needed to be rebuilt. And rebuilt it was, bigger and better than its former incarnation. I pulled up to its porch, releasing myself from the sleigh's harness and leaving it behind as I entered. The inside had a slight smell to it, which along with a fine layer of dust that settled on everything, was a dead giveaway that the cabin hadn't been used since the first snowfall this season. After a hasty check of all the rooms, I looked at my wristwatch. It read 1 p.m., which meant that the trek took me longer than expected. Now, if I may be allowed to toot my own

horn for just a bit, I'm in great shape for my age. I'm my mind. own cook, so I eat well. I'm my own personal trainer, and God knows I've not gone easy on myself. Most nights I can't find my limbs after strenuous bouts of workout. I don't drink, I don't smoke. In fact, the last 30 years of my life have been spent solely on preparing for tonight. Time used to better my mind, body, and arsenal. All so I could see this one day night through. But even with all of that, I can't compare to a man half my age. Despite my best efforts, the passage of the years robbed me of my vigor little by little. The only aspect of me that hasn't faltered in the slightest is my determination. If anything, it only grew stronger,

and I put it to good use. After lighting the fireplace and the cabin to warm it up, I went outside, checked and fueled the chainsaw, and took to the forest. It had a wide selection of trees just ripe for felling, so I got to work. The hours passed, flying by me like summer birds as I cut and cleaned a dozen trees of their branches. With great effort that my back was more than unthankful for, I dragged their trunks through the snow and piled them up in the clearing around the cabin, as the sun kissed the horizon, and the night threatened to engulf me with its all-consuming darkness. I finished constructing the enormous pyre that I'd need. I douse the wood with the gasoline from one container, allowing it time to soak up the fuel, and had the other

container ready next to the pile. The last thing I did, before going inside the cabin to warm myself up and catch my breath, was to open the two jars of blood, leaving one at the edge of the forest, and the other one next to the pyre on a log. The sun slowly disappeared, and from my vantage point next to the fireplace, I could see the shroud of nighttime settling across the forest. I waited, biting my time for as long as possible, until every last ray of light was gone. My mind was eager to spring into action, but after a grueling day of manual labor, my body had other plans. I soon fell asleep on the chair, lulled into it by the heat of the fire. To my displeasure, my sleep wasn't as restful as it had been at Rachel's house.

The night terrors I'd grown accustomed to returned to haunt me again, offering me a sweet release from the present only to tear it away from me. I was back down the mountain, trekking through the December snow with my friends and my soon-to-be wife. The date was the 24th of December, 1991, and I was a strapping young lad of only 25 years of age. With my future looking bright and my fiance next to me, I felt invincible, king of the world as far as I was concerned.

Seeing as we were planning our wedding, in our years were slowly advancing. beyond parties and travel and into settling down, finding good-paying jobs, and starting a family. Me and Jennifer decided to throw one last party, like the good old times. We saved up money all year round and got four more of our closest friends to join us in what might have been our final outing as a group. We found a cheap cabin, far away from civilization, so we wouldn't disturb anyone's Christmas night with our loud music and drinking. The hike took hours, but with gin by my side to keep me going, I felt no cold or exhaustion to speak of. Michael, David, and myself, the three men

in the group pulled the sleighs with supplies. Jennifer, Kelly, and Laurie followed us closely, talking between themselves about anything and everything that they talked about when they weren't pestering us. David and Laurie were getting ready for marriage. just like me and Jen, and Michael and Kelly were already married with a kid back home, just wanting to break free from their busy lives for a few nights. By the time we reached the cabin, evening was only hours away. Me, Michael, and David were hasty in setting up the battery-powered cassette player, and before long, music was blasting out of it. The girls warmed up the pre-packaged food, drinks were being passed around from the portable cooler, and by nightfall,

all, we had a proper party raging on, one we planned to extend into the early hours of the next morning. I'm tempted to say that it was the best party of my life, but I know I'd be lying. I only see it that way now, because it was the last party where I actually felt good. The fun reached a crescendo around midnight. We were all properly drunk by then, dancing and bumping into each other in the small cabin. People needed to relieve himself of surplus liquids, so he went to the outhouse. He was barely gone for half a minute, before he barged back inside.

His eyes wild and fear plastered across his face. Guys, come outside right now. By the urgency in his voice and his out-of-character attitude, we knew he wasn't messing with us. We dropped whatever we were doing, and we followed him into the clear winter night. Flashlights at the ready. Hushed murmurs rippled through the group, we were all worried and wondering what the hell had scared Michael so bad. There, he said, and pointed towards one of the mountaintops, what the hell is that? Our collective sights followed his finger, settling on the peak looming above us, but none of us could make anything out.

Turn off the lights and the music, Michael ordered. David complied. He was in and out of the cabin in a heartbeat, leaving us stranded in soul-crushing darkness and silence. With nothing left to pollute my senses, my eyesight and hearing sharpened. Against the spotless white snow and ice that engulfed the cliff faces, I saw a shadow emerge. The longer I stared at it, the more I could feel my mind fracture, as if it wasn't something that my mortal eyes were meant to witness. Still, from this far away, I couldn't make out much

of it, save for its eyes, that seemed to glow in the night like a pair of bloody stars. Why is it so quiet? Jen asked. I hadn't even noticed her get next to me and roused. I hadn't even noticed her get next to me and wrap her arms around mine, pushing herself into me in her startled state. But as soon as she brought it up, I could hear it as well. A complete and utter lack of sound, except for our own breathing and shuffling through the snow. Do you guys see it now? Michael asked. We didn't get to answer him. The thing, the creature, let out a howl unlike anything I've heard before or since. The call of endless winter, of bone-shattering cold and gut-wrenching hunger. Its voice

reverberated down the mountain, echoing through the valleys and piercing our ears with its volume. It lasted for what felt like a lifetime, forcing images of fate's worse than death into my mind. I saw all of us, huddled around a dying fire deep in the forest, cupping our palms around the dying embers in a last futile attempt to warm up. The days and nights passing, with no hope of salvation. Growing ever more hungry and thirsty until we turned feral and set our sights on each other. I saw the bloodshed.

The bodies. Flesh rendered from bone and shoved between greed. clacking teeth. But it wasn't real. None of it was real. We wouldn't do that. We couldn't do that. Lost in the visions, I didn't see the creature wave an arm towards us.

I didn't see the sheer force of its action, tear through the layers of snow, feeling it in slabs that slid down the slope. The others told me of all that later. Avalanche. One of them said. One of them said, though I can't for the life of me remember which one. Their cry, and Jen pulling at my arm with desperation, was what finally broke the creature's spell over me.

With the avalanche picking up speed and mass, as it plowed down the mountainside towards us, we took shelter in the only safe place around for miles. We huddled in the center of the cabin, hoping that the structure was sound enough to withstand the assault. When it finally hit, the avalanche sounded like a thunderstorm mixed in with an earthquake. The world around us shook from its very core, sending us flying every which way as we tried to hold steady against it. And then, as soon as it had started, the calamity ended, leaving us gasping in terror. A scream reverberating from outside the cabin woke me up before, before the nightmare got to the worst part. I jolted in the seat, strangely thankful for being

spared of the horror that would have followed. With the axe and loaded shotgun in hand, I got outside into the quiet night. My hairs stood on their ends right away as a feeling of deep anxiety welled within me. This was it, the moment I'd been preparing for for the past 30 years. My life's goal was within reach, and yet I feared I was woefully unprepared to face it. I walked around the pyre, checking the clearing for signs of the beast. The jar of blood left on the log had been thrown into the snow, licked clean of every last trace of the crimson fluid. Even the snow around where it had landed was gone. The beast was hungry. Leaving the axe next to the one remaining fuel canister, I raised the shotgun in front of myself

and marched towards the forest slowly. The beast ran around between the evergreen trees, using them for cover. But I could tell that each one of its steps brought it closer to me. My heart pounded away wildly in anticipation, preparing my body for the fight that would shortly ensue. Come out, I said into the night, stopping halfway to the tree line. The skittering stopped, sending me on edge. Bouts of laughter emanated from the forest, its echoes making it hard for me to pinpoint the source. Come out, the beast repeated my words back to me. Only they were twisted and slurred, uttered by lips that had grown unaccustomed to

human speech. I'm not screwing around. I pressed. Come out. Now. Me neither, the beast said. In one final leap, it flew through the air from the branch where it had been squatting. With a heavy thud, it landed a few feet from the edge of the clearing.

My body froze when I laid eyes on it. The skeletal frame that betrayed its decades of malnutrition. The sunken eyes, the retracted lips that exposed diseased gums and teeth charred by decay. The skin turned to a blue and black mess from constant hypothermia and countless frostbites. Clothes torn to rags and a once beautiful head of dirty blonde hair reduced to six strands barely hanging onto its scalp. I couldn't take it anymore. I could feel the beginning of another panic attack writhing beneath my skin. My heart rate reached a maximum. My body trembled from its core and cold sweat poured out of my pores, chilling me to the bone. The mix of impending doom

and all-consuming fear sent adrenaline surging through my veins, and I tried to latch onto it, to let it help me through the ordeal soon to follow. Letting go of the shotgun with one hand that I reached towards the beast, with my voice catching in my throat and coming out a hoarse whisper as my rapid breathing cut it short, I uttered a single word, Jen. The first thing we did after the avalanche ended was to take stock of our situation. We were all accounted for, and besides bruises and stumbling and falling, we weren't injured.

All of the cabin's windows, as well as both doors, had caved in from the weight of the snow pressing down on them. The puffy, white death invaded the already small space, reducing it further and making us feel claustrophobic. We have to dig our way out, I told the others, after we regained our bearings. Seeing as everyone ran around like headless chicken and no one was taking charge of the situation, I decided to do it myself. We got our hands on anything we could use as improvised shovels, which mostly meant plates and cups, and shoveled snow from the front door. But where we took away one cup or plate worth, two flooded in to take their place. We kept at it, fear and desperation pushing us from behind and stoking the fires of our efforts.

When my hands felt like they'd freeze right through and shatter, someone else took my place. We tried for hours and hours until the snow pile that gathered behind us threatened to reach the ceiling, but we made no progress. The avalanche appeared supernatural in scale and intensity, leaving us trapped under a puffy white sea in our little bubble of air. Stop, I said. We're wasting our strength. We have to wait this one out. But we'll freeze to death. Michael interjected. Still, his voice lacked the determination and rebelliousness to drive his point home. He was just as tired and defeated as the rest of us. The owners will notice we're missing, I said. They'll send help when we won't come back down the mountain. They won't, Kelly said from behind me.

They said they'll be out of town until after New Year's and asked us to leave the key under the cabin's porch. Lori added, do you guys ever listen to the people around you? No, David said. No, no, no, that's a week away. We can't stay in here for an entire week. He devolved into panic, dragging everyone else down with him. Worried whispers grew in intensity, soon turning into an incoherent shouting match. We'll freeze, we'll starve, will suffocate. Those were just a few of the worries made vocal. Calm down, I said, but my voice was drowned out by theirs. Calm down! Hearing me louder, everyone fell silent. Their gazes turned to me, expectant and oddly accusatory.

We have some drinks left, and we won't starve to death in a week. If we hunker down together for warmth, no one will freeze either. We'll see through this, okay? What about oxygen? David asked. This place is small and really high up. There's not enough of it for a week. Yeah, I answered.

But physical effort and panicking will burn through it faster. Look, we don't have to make it an entire week, okay? Just a day or two before help comes. I could see they weren't satisfied with my plan. They huddled together away from me in a silent statement of opposition. And if we start running out of oxygen, we can give digging another try as a last resort. Besides, we'll stand a better chance later when the snow settles and freezes. Fine.

David gave in. I'm so cold, Jen said, echoing everyone's sentiments, my toes will fall off. Here, Kelly offered, let's do like Aiden said, let's huddle together. Laurie followed them, and the three of them did just that, going over to one of the cabin's corners and hunkering down. When I say the place was small, I'm not kidding. It was very small, and all in one kitchen, dining and living room, with a small pantry, in a bedroom connected to one side of it.

Let's fetch all the pillows and covers we can. I told the other men. They agreed, so we wordlessly started searching. Which didn't take that long. In half an hour, we had a fake bear rug in the corner to isolate the room, and all of the pillows and blankets in the cabin to keep us warm. We used the bedroom as a changing room, doubling the layers on our skins. And yes, that meant double boxers, pants, blouses.

clothes, jackets, double everything. We put on all of the spare clothes we brought along. And yet, as insulated as we were, holding each other tight in a collective bear hug, we were still cold. Jess and Laurie fell asleep fast, the mix of fatigue and alcohol in their veins doing them in, and I could see the others weren't far behind. Let's sleep in shifts, I whispered to David and Michael. The girls need their rest, but Someone needs to be awake at all times in case something else goes wrong. Yeah, Michael said, though by his voice alone, I could tell he wouldn't be the first on guard duty. Sounds good.

David agreed. I'll take the first shift, I offered, seeing as it had been my idea. I wiggled my way free from the arms holding me tight and got to my feet. Taking a single blanket to wrap myself in, I went and sat down in the chair next to the to the fireplace. It was one of those boxy things made of steel and suspended off the ground by lanky feet, and we'd kept the fire burning in it for a while last night. Yet, as I reached my hands toward it to rob it of the last residual traces of warmth that should have held, I found it completely cold. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The cabin

had been warm and cozy, just before we saw the creature on the peak and the avalanche blocked a in. No way in hell could it have been so cold already, but it was. Even our own bodies, under all the layers of clothes and blankets, couldn't keep us warm as they should have been able to. I pushed those thoughts aside in favor of thinking of our immediate survival. The others fell asleep, leaving me alone, so I needed to keep my senses sharp and my wits about me in case help arrived. Checking my wristwatch, I saw it was nearing sunrise outside. I'd been awake for nearly 24 hours by that point, but I didn't feel tired. No doubt the result of the shock, but I was thankful regardless. By noon, I'd kept busy by climbing up in the attic and turning off the generator. Damn thing

consumed more oxygen, so we couldn't afford to keep it on. It only powered the lights in the cabin anyway. There were no outlets for us to make use of in any meaningful way. With the shoelaces of of my spare pair of boots tied into a hangman's knot, I hung one of the flashlight sets on low power from the now dead light bulb, and I decided I'd done enough for the day. The cold robbed me of my will, making every move feel strenuous. Even thinking about anything in particular left me short of breath. So, I simply existed, listening to the others breathe and shift in their sleep. Michael roused from his rest at about one in the afternoon. Shivering from his core, he got free from beneath the sea of blankets and got to his feet.

He wanted to unwind to stretch his body and joints that were sore from the uncomfortable sleeping position on the floor. But he abandoned that course of action when his blouses and jackets threatened to expose his skin. He dragged another chair next to me and sat down on it, rubbing his gloved hands together. How the hell is it so cold already? He asked, as the water vapor in his mouth condensed on his wool gloves. I don't know, man. I admitted with half a mouth.

You tired yet? He asked me. His teeth clattered, slurring his speech. Out of my mind, yeah. I'm hungry as hell, he said. I'll grab a bite to eat and take over. Go catch some shut-eye, too. He said, I couldn't argue.

Thanks, I said, and pride myself free from the seat. His mention of food made me notice my own peckishness, but I was in no mood to eat. In a matter of moments, I was wrapped in Jen's arms, drifting off to sleep. It felt like a short nap, a blip in my stream of consciousness, before I was awoken by screaming. Jolthing to my senses, pushing blankets and pillows aside to get to my feet, I saw the source of the commotion. Michael was on his back, down on the floor, with David on top of him, hurling fist at his face. What the hell? I yelled, jumping on David's back to pull him away. He was crazed, outputting

more force than I'd ever seen him to. Son of a bitch ate all my food, David said to me, elbowing me in the face to get me off of him. I stumbled back and crashed to the floor, bringing my hands around my nose. The hit felt like a lightning strike to my face, the cold amplifying the pain of the fresh wound. My gloves came back, bloodied, warm liquid soaking through them and reaching the skin beneath. David, stop, Laurie said. The sound of her voice broke David's violent spell. His eyes went wide, darting between his bloodied fist and Michael's disfigured face.

I'm he, David stuttered. I woke up, I found him eating all our food, he didn't leave anything for us, not a crumb. I got up and placed my hands on David's shoulders. Having calmed down, he nearly melted under my touch. I guided him to his feet and slowly pulled him aside. In any ensuing silence, I heard Michael muttering something behind broken teeth. Kelly got on her knees next to him, tears streaming down her face, but she kept quiet trying to hear him.

Hungry. I'm so hungry. Michael chanted. Why'd you beat him up so badly? I asked David a bit further away, where the others wouldn't hear us talk. Jen got down next to Michael as well, helping Kelly in her efforts to clean and treat him. Lori just hung out away from everyone, with a thousand-yard stare in her eyes, and shock plastered on her face.

He ate all the food, okay? But that's not... I'm sorry, David said, cutting over me. His voice quivered, and I knew he was on the verge of crying. I have. I don't know. I don't know what got into me. I didn't mean to, but...

But I snapped. I couldn't control myself. I think it's that thing, that creature, I said. I think it's messing with us somehow, with our minds. I didn't know if I should bring up the visions I had, but seeing as the situation was quickly devolving and suspecting outside interference, I decided to do it. I turned David around, signaled for the girls to pay attention as well, and spoke up. Outside, before the avalanche started, when I looked up at that, that thing, I said, deliberately

making my word slow. When it screamed, it showed me things. Everyone's eyes went wide when they heard that, which was all the proof I needed. Us huddled around a dying fire, David asked, freezing and going hungry. Lori added. Eating. Eating each other. Jen completed with hesitation.

I nodded my head at all of their questions. We'd seen the same thing, the same fate in store for us. And that was all of the confirmation I needed, that we were dealing with something beyond the natural and logical. That we needed to be extremely careful if we hoped to make it out alive. The girls finished treating Michael, and we talked some more, swapping theories and comparing notes. We came to the consensus that, given our circumstances, we were much colder and hungrier than we should have been. But beyond that, all seemed normal still.

Or as normal as things could be right then. Michael remained catatonic after the beating, not answering us or reacting to our presence in any way. Probing and prodding him had no effect, so we decided to leave him be. Not because we didn't care about him, we did care, but we'd done our best with what we had. He needed to rest, to heal, and to let the shock clear from his system. Consumed by guilt, David decided to move to the opposite corner of ours, and naturally Laurie followed him. Afraid for Michael's life and plagued by paranoia, Kelly moved. moved him and herself to another corner of the room as well.

Just like that, our group was splintered, bringing down our chances of survival, considerably. Despite our better judgment, distrust had been sown, and it managed to take roots in our minds. I'm so hungry, too. Jen whispered to me after a while, her stomach growling ever so often. And I'm so cold. Me too, babe, I admitted. I saw her shoot daggers at Michael and Kelly whenever they weren't looking our way, but I lack the energy and mental fortitude to say anything of substance that might dissuade her and

quench her mounting hatred for the two. The mere act of thinking became harder by the second, and I was so out of it that I didn't even think of blaming it on the dwindling concentration of oxygen in the air. More time passed like that, with us growing more and more quiet. Our shuffling stopped, and as our mind suffered under the intense hunger and the slow but agonizing suffocation, moments became melting into each other. After a while, I found myself unable to tell minutes apart, as longer and longer portions of time slipped between my fingers.

For how long had we been in there? A day? A week? A lifetime? How long ago had David's attack been hours or days? My brain could barely bring itself to ask these questions, and it couldn't answer them when it did. Sleep came in bursts that were hard to measure or distinguish. I found myself slipping in and out of consciousness more and more often, with Jen's cold arms wrapped around me. Over the eternities I spent awake between bouts of darkness, I felt her chest heaved slower as her breathing grew labored. I tried to check up on her, but my body's reserves were so low that it refused to even let me speak. In an uncharacteristic moment of awareness, I heard Kelly whispered to Michael in the all-consuming

silence, her words reached me loud and clear, but their meaning alluded me. I urged my mind to focus, to make out letters and syllables and words, to remember enough of the English language for me to understand her. It eventually did, but not without plenty of protesting. Mike. Michael, Kelly said, shoving her palms against his chest. I saw air puff out of his nostrils each time she did, turning into fluffy clouds that dispersed as they rose to the ceiling. Please, she urged him. Stay with me, babe.

Don't leave me alone. Seeing their state broke my heart. My mind cobbled itself back together enough to spit out misshapen memories of our past together, which only served to deepen my distress. I'd known Michael ever since we were children, having grown on the same quiet street in our small town. He'd always been a great guy, and we made fast friends, spending our summers playing outside way past the bedtimes that our parents failed to enforce. We stuck together through Thickhampton, the roots of our friendship extending all the way back into preschool and kindergarten.

When it came time to enroll into elementary, we fought our people. parents tooth and nail to make sure we'd go to the same school. Braddy as we were, our parents caved in. Michael's folks were more than happy to enroll him into the local school, but my parents wanted better for me. They wanted to find me a nice school in the nearest big city. But I'd have none of it, and after countless tantrums and threats that only a six-year-old can come up with, they relented. Elementary school came and went, filled with its own misadventures. Michael's parents did much better for themselves, and we were both able to afford going to the city for middle school.

That's where I first met Jen, and from the first moment I laid eyes on her, she was my ray of sunshine. Not thinking much of it. Viewing relationships as nothing more than games, we soon declared ours official. As young love always tends to do, no one expected ours to last, thinking we'd grow bored of each other and of the concept in general. But we didn't. Jen and I were joined at the hip from that day forward, even as our small group steadily grew and we advanced in age. By high school, Michael had found Kelly. And let me tell you, courting her was a nightmare. Me and Jen were

his wingmates through all of it, though, and our help paid off when Kelly finally agreed to go out on a date with him. We, of course, made it a double date, and we all had a blast. After that day, Kelly joined our group as Michael's girlfriend. More friends came and went, but none stuck around for too long. I don't think I could list them all, for the simple fact that I can't remember them all anymore. David and Lori are the clear exception to that rule, however. Transfer students from the faraway land of, I can't remember the names of their towns. They arrived in separate boxes that were soon a bundle deal. Desperate as they were to fit in with any group, they ended up in ours, and we welcomed them with open arms. In all of our time together as a group, we had our fair share of arguments and

drama. It's human nature, it's unavoidable, but it was never anything serious. Just petty squabbles They got resolved and helped strengthen our bonds, which is all a very long and convoluted way of saying that we'd never been as divided as we were during our time up in that cabin. I watched Kelly try her best to comfort Michael for a while longer, but my mental acuity soon faltered again. More time passed without my notice, and when I came back to my senses once more, I checked my wristwatch. It was one of those fancy ones, the ones that also display what day of the week it is and the current date.

I was taken aback to find out that it was Thursday, the 26th of December, had two days really passed me by like that. Feeling parched, I decided to get up and grab a drink. We still had some beers, a bottle of wine, and half a bottle of whiskey left in the cooler, but I wasn't dumb. Even in my impaired state, I knew that too much alcohol would only dehydrate me faster, so I went for a beer and left the stronger stuff alone. I got one of the bottles out, undid the cap with much effort, and pressed my cracked lips against it. The liquid inside was on the verge of freezing as I tip the bottle up, and it felt like

thousands of sharp razor blades down my dry throat. But I don't think I've ever appreciated a drink more in the same. my life. As soon as it started flowing, it was over and gone, so I discarded the bottle. Feeling a tiny bit better, I checked up on the others. They'd gone just as motionless as Michael, and I was worried that not all of them were alive anymore. Guys? I asked. My voice barely audible. You all still here? Kelly cracked her bloodshot eyes open and shot me a look of pure exhaustion. She probed Michael with her elbow, and he produced a few puffs of air out of his nose.

Laurie snuggled tighter against David, and he simply stated, where the hell else would we be? That only left Jen. Jen? Babe. I called out, the words coming out as mere whispers. She tossed in her sleep, so I decided to let her be. But I wanted to get a closer look at Michael, who I knew. was pretty banged up and whose wounds would only get exasperated by the cold.

I shuffled over to him and Kelly, seeing her eyes dilate with fear as I approached. She nearly hissed at me, scared like a cornered animal faced with a mighty predator, so I stopped a little distance away. Michael looked horrible. His face was purple and bulging, lips split open and the bridge of his nose broken. The worst areas were covered in bandages and band-aids from the first aid kit, and the places where David's fist ruptured his flesh open were caked in dried blood and long-since evaporated iodine that left a yellow tinge on his skin.

His eyes were swollen shut, his hair fell out in clumps, and the remnants of his teeth that I could glean between his parted lips were jagged and sharp. He wouldn't last much longer. I was aware of that, and by the looks of her, neither would Kelly. I fetched four of the five remaining beers, tossing Kelly two of them and handing David the other two. Make Michael drink one as well. I told her and went to lie back down next to Jen.

She shuffled away from me when I got under the blanket, bawling up against the wall. I wrapped myself around her as best as I could, but it felt like I was high. hugging a block of solid ice. Despite my stupor and the alcohol now racing through my veins, I had enough mental clarity to be surprised that we were all still alive. By all accounts, we should have all died by then, either to the cold or to suffocation as our oxygen slowly depleted. But we were all still hanging on, even if only by a thread.

By now, you might be wondering how no one had found us yet. The answer is simple. Cell phones weren't as prolific back then, so it was normal to be out of touch with family and friends when you traveled. With one day's worth of driving to get here, a two-day stay at the cabin and another day to drive back home, no one would notice that something was amiss until Friday evening at the earliest. in things such as delays because of potential traffic and possible detours.

Our families were unlikely to sound the alarm earlier than Saturday morning. Until word reached here from all the way back home, until a rescue unit would be scrambled together and sent to check on us, until they'd find the cabin buried under metric tons of snow. We could expect Evac to happen around Saturday night, at best. rehydrated and with the alcohol and the beer squeezing a bit more heat out of my muscles, I was lulled back to sleep. It was another fitful bout of rest, my mind half awake at any point throughout.

I heard the others move around, pulling their covers, and I felt Jen squirm in my arms every so often. But by the time she got up, by the time she began moving around, I was too out of it to notice I woke up to the heavy smell of smoke burning my eyes and nostrils. When I got up, I found Jen knelt in front of the fireplace, struggling to ignite the wood inside of it by using a torn book and some matches. With the chimney blocked and nowhere for the fire to draw breath from, it bellowed waves of smoke back inside the cabin, cutting our already short oxygen supply even shorter.

I bounded to my feet, my mind sent into overdrive as I fully realized what was happening. Without thinking, I went to the pile of snow and grabbed handfuls of it. I rushed to the fireplace, shoving Jan aside, and smothered the flames with the snow. No! She yelled in protest, springing to her feet and clawing at the back of my neck. I ignored her, focusing my efforts on the embers. When I was sure that none of them survived my assault, I turned around to face her. What the hell are you doing?

I said. She stopped her assault and pulled back a step, fearful of my justified outburst. Were you trying to kill us all? I'm too cold, she said, and I could see the madness in her eyes. She wasn't thinking straight anymore. The stress of the hunger and the low temperatures pummeled her mind for too long and drove her into a delusional state. Too cold. Too hungry.

She murmured and collapsed into a heap on the floor. We'll die. We're all going to die, she said, gripping the sides of her head in desperation. Hearing her blabbering, new life was breathed into Michael as well. Well, though just barely, he began chanting in sync with her, proclaiming his hunger in our impending doom with slurred words. Everyone okay? I asked, leaving Jen behind for a moment.

I planned to get her back between the blankets, but I wanted to make sure that we weren't in danger of suffocating from the smoke before that. I'm fine. David told me when I got closer. We're both fine." Kelly. What about you and Michael? I asked her, but I was hesitant to approach her.

She didn't say anything. Her eyes opened wide, big and shiny, peering right through me. One of her hands left the blanket, pointing finger, jutted out, and she motioned for me to look behind. I didn't get to turn around in time. hit the back of my head, sending waves of pain up my scalp and down my spine. I fell to my hands and knees, disoriented, and heard David scream. Kelly and Laurie joined him.

Their combined forces birthing a cacophony of yells that only exacerbated my headache. Before I got the chance to make sense of my situation, Michael kicked me in the ribs and sent me sprawling. I rolled on the floor from the force, stopping on my back and managed to catch a glimpse of the room. Jen was on her feet, axe in one hand, and a log of wood in the other. Michael had gotten up as well, scaring Kelly in the process, and he was now looming over me.

This whole shit show was your idea. Jen accused, lobbing the wood at me and hitting my left shin. It exploded with more pain. When I tried to reach for it and grab it, Michael kicked my hands away. For someone that was half dead, he all of a sudden had a lot more strength than he should have. Your idea. Your fault, Jen said.

She grabbed the axe tight with both hands and slowly walked over to me, stopping at my feet. Jen, I said between clamped teeth. Don't, she replied. You, you think that I don't know, that you're waiting for us to die. She trembled as she spoke, her head jolting from side to side, and her words sounded like those of a madman. The beast, it didn't show us the future, it showed us a way out. It taught us how to survive.

Survive. Michael echoed her words. Jen, David spoke up. He got to his feet while she stammered her nonsense and approached us with his hands in front of himself. Calm down. Please. Aiden didn't. He knew?

She said. He knew. And he didn't tell us. Without warning, she lifted the axe up in the air. Its blade came down, so fast and vicious that it splintered the ceiling above when its tip connected. In a heartbeat, Michael dropped to his hunches and got a hold of my left leg with both hands. I tried to jerk it free, to dodge the blow, but his strength was superhuman.

And then, in a fraction of a second, the axe. Max made contact. It passed cleanly through flesh and bone and sinew, stopping in the floor below. I let out guttural screams, so loud and frightened that they threatened to tear my vocal cords to shreds. Blood shot out of my amputated leg, squirting and staining the floor as it spread a coppery smell in the air. Another one, Michael said. But Jan ignored him. She grabbed my severed foot, quickly taking off the boot and sock as she scampered away. Even through the pain and suffering, I heard the crunch of her teeth as she bit down into it, pulling flesh and veins and bones away, greedily swallowing without even

chewing. You bitch, Michael said, infuriated. David tackled him from behind, sending him. him flying face first out of the floor. And through all of that, I was still screaming, holding on to my severed leg with all my might. David undid his belt with shaking hands and wide eyes, looping it around the stump as many times as he could. He wanted to make a tourniquet, which was smart, but he didn't get to finish. Michael jumped him, and the two of them flew away in a flurry of blind punches and kicks. I grabbed hold of the belt. And with my last ounces of

strength, I completed the tourniquet and tightened it as much as possible. The blood flow slowed, but it was far from stopping, and I knew I needed to act fast. David and Michael were still duking it out. Their attention focused on each other. But Jen was nearly halfway through my foot, and I feared she'd be coming for seconds at any moment. Caught her eyes, I thought. Only chance. I turned on my belly and crawled towards the fireplace, one agonizing pole after another. The blood trail extended behind me, slicking my pants and robbing me of what little warmth I had left.

When I reached the torn book and the matches, I quickly bundled it around the wound. Striking a match with how wild I was shaking was a nightmare, and my bloodied hands dampening the wood only made it harder. The first match broke, the second as well. But the third was the charm. It ignited, and I pressed it against the paper. It burst into flames and singed my flesh, spreading the disgusting smell of burning skin and hair in the air.

I nearly gagged, gritting my teeth so hard that I feared they would splinter. I wanted to scream out, to curse and fight and just die, anything would have been better. But I got through it, ripping pages in bulk from the other books and adding more paper to the fire as it burned away. And when the deed was finally done, when I ran out of paper and strength to keep going, I propped myself against the fireplace. David and Michael were still going at it, with no clear victor to their brawl. Jen finished eating my foot, tossing away the head of the tibia and rubbing the blood from her lips. By the look in her eyes as she gazed back at me, I knew she wasn't

yet satisfied. She dropped down on all fours like a wild predator and bounded towards me. To my surprise, Kelly and Lori came to my defense, intercepting Jen and standing between her and me. Jen, please, Lori said, raising her arms in defense. Stop! But Jen didn't answer. Her manic eyes darted between the two, and she let out a growl. With moves so fast that I could barely see them, she lunged at Lori and pushed her aside. Lorry crashed to the floor, hitting her head hard against the wood, and she began convulsing.

Kelly tried to dash away, but Jen jabbed her hand into her throat, gutting her windpipe with her bare fingers. To this day, the sounds that Kelly made as she choked on her own blood are the worst sounds I've ever heard. She tried to suck air in, and when her gushing blood, invaded her lungs. She tried to heave it back out. Her death wasn't fast, and it was anything but painless. Jen simply watched her drop to the floor, reaching for her own windpipe in a last desperate attempt to cling onto life. She didn't even wait for Kelly to die, just grabbed her foot and pulled her away into the bedroom. I got one last look at Kelly before the door swung shut, And the terror in her eyes pierced my soul.

She was still conscious through all of it, and to this day I shudder at the thought that she was also mostly conscious through what followed. With the door closed behind them, Jen feasted on Kelly. I heard the sound of skin and flesh being ripped apart, of bones dislocating and breaking, and the gnashing of her hungry teeth as she saw. took bite after bite. My attention was dragged back onto David and Michael when they landed only feet in front of me. I saw them struggle against each other, tossing and turning as they both tried to get the upper hand. Michael got his feet beneath himself and pushed, throwing David off and jumping him again. He pinned David's hands to the floor and head-butted him once, then twice,

Then a third time, and I saw his forehead coming away stained with blood. David's nose was crooked and leaking, so badly broken that it rested on his cheek. Michael tried to bite down on David's face, but he dodged the attempt. Another one came, this one connecting with David's chin, and Michael pulled away a chunk of skin and flesh that he chewed on. Barely able to move, I realized that David wouldn't survive without help. Whatever possessed Jen and Michael imbued them with superhuman strength and they became too much to handle. I forced my way on all fours, or well, all threes, and limped over to the axe. Behind me, I heard Michael take another successful bite out of David's face, which spurred me on to move

faster. Grabbing the axe and pushing to my feet, I used it as a crutch to walk over. Preoccupied with David, Michael failed to notice me. I raised the axe high up, steadying myself on one leg, and I brought it down with all my might. I swung it so hard that it whisked me off my foot, but it hit Michael right in the crown of his head. He jumped as if struck by lightning, And spazzing out with the axe still impaled into his skull, he stopped after a few moments, wheezing as he drew his final breath. I toppled next to David, feeling my muscles burning from the effort, wanting nothing more than to pass out from the pain.

But hearing Jen ravaged Kelly's body in the bedroom, I knew I couldn't do that just yet. David? I asked quietly. Yeah, he answered. Still here. Can he move? More or less, he said, slowly getting to his feet. Barricade the bedroom door before Jen comes back.

I asked of him, which I knew was inconsiderate of me, but short one foot I couldn't do it myself. Why? David asked. He got next to Lorry and knelt in front of her. gently checking her pulse. What's the point anymore? Come on, I urged, don't go suicidal on me, please, we can still make it out alive.

David turned to look at me, and as his face came into view, I couldn't help but gasp. Three chunks were missing from his face where Michael managed to bite him. One from his chin, the skin and flesh gone to reveal the bone beneath. Another one from his cheek, leaving a hole big enough to expose his molars, and the final one, from above his left eye, making him unable to close it anymore. He was probably in quite a bit of pain, but if he was, he didn't show it. If you say so, he said, though I could tell he didn't believe me. His spirit was crushed. He was already defeated. Still, he got to work moving, the few pieces of furniture in the room to block the bedroom door. He limped and struggled

against them in an effort that was nothing short of Titanic in his condition. In a few minutes, even the fireplace had been dragged along the floor, aided by the slick blood that pooled pretty much everywhere. After he made sure that the pieces were stacked properly and wouldn't fall, he hoisted Laurie in his arms and got back in their own corner, holding her tight against his chest. I too crawled back to my own corner, though I didn't feel the need to hide under the blankets, either because of the shock or the effort, or the beast relinquishing its influence over us. I didn't feel as cold anymore. I watched David close his eyes, whispering reassuring words in Delori's ear, and lost myself to the fatigue and blood loss. In my near-unconscious

stayed. I heard Jen try to open the door, giving up when she couldn't. I heard her scratch and heave and yelp for a while, until even those sounds faded away. Before I succumbed entirely, I heard one final scream, a pale imitation of the beast call that wasn't any less frightening. When I came to again, after an untold amount of time, I couldn't even open my eyes anymore. It felt as if every last ounce of strength in my body was being used up on the simple act of breathing. Voices resounded from the bedroom, four in number, and easy to distinguish from one another. Hello? One of them called out. Anyone alive in there?

They attempted to open the door, but failed against the barricade. I heard shuffling and groaning, but soon they gave up. Out of the way, another voice said, before loud bangs claimed the relative silence. I managed to crack open one eye, barely enough to see in the dark. Part of the door splintered and broke as the men on the other side assaulted it with axes. Hands reached in through the resulting holes, pushing away the furniture that toppled to the floor. Between the gaps, light shined into the room from the other side, bright and blinding to my room. eye. The door opened after a few minutes and I saw a figure into the room.

My God, the man uttered, it's a bloodbath. Help me. I croaked out. Someone's still alive, he yelled to the others and they rushed into the room. Two of them knelt by my side and the other two went straight to David and Laurie. They checked up on me, gave my leg a proper tourniquet and And then they hoisted me out of the room. I got one final look at David, seeing that he'd slit his own throat and died while I was unconscious. His arms still wrapped around Lorry. The mountain rescuers brought me into the bedroom where I also saw the state of Kelly's body.

She'd been so thoroughly mutilated that she was completely unrecognizable. Her face was a bloody mess of bare bone. Her clothes had been torn to shreds, and her chest and abdomen were picked clean of flesh, ribs protruding from the carcass. But I was too drained to cry. Too drained. To even care? The rescuers tied me to a stretcher and got me out through a tunnel that had been dug out,

leading from the window to the surface. A tunnel of blood-stained snow, one dug by Jen as she escaped, for she was a little bit of a She was the only one of us missing from the buried cabin. I was officially out by Friday evening, and after a helicopter ride to the nearest hospital, I got medical care that same night. The next few months were a tough battle. My days riddled with sessions of physical therapy and countless court hearings, given that I was the sole survivor.

Everyone's families came at me, one after the other, trying to pin all of the murders on me in their misguided attempts to bring justice to the departed. David's case was the first to get thrown out, since they found a suicide note in one of his pockets, and the wound was self-inflicted. Lori's death was declared an accident, caused by acute brain hemorrhaging that resulted from her falling and hitting her head. Kelly's murder was pinned on Jen, who was still missing. The only murder to which I admitted was Michael's, but after the autopsy revealed David's flesh in his stomach, I was acquitted on grounds of self-defense and defending another. The disaster was deemed as a tragic case of cabin fever, and it quickly got swept under the rug,

an effort helped by the fact that none of us wanted media attention. I couldn't even attend any of their funerals. Their families wouldn't let me. As ashamed as I am to admit it. I contemplated suicide on an almost daily basis, desperate to be free of the guilt and nightmares. But I can never go through with it. A few years later, when home computers and the internet began spreading to everyday consumers, I found a small forum built around accounts of the paranormal. I told my story there, asking if anyone knew what the beast could have been. Most users, either called me a larper with comments such as nice story bro or gave me the same answer that

the court provided blaming cabin fever i was ready to give up my search for a resolution and accept their verdict until i received a p.m from an anonymous user that only said four words it was a wind ago those four words spurred me into months of research i read all the online resources i could find and when they became insufficient and repetitive, I took to searching for books on the beast. When even the books failed me, I began traveling, seeking Native American shamans for their legends and firsthand experience. All of my guilt and hate and fear morphed turning into determination, with my sole goal in life being that of slaying the beast that took everything from me, Armed with knowledge about what I faced, I began to prepare, decades spent on this single-minded

objective, which brings me to the Christmas Eve of 2020, the moment when all of my training and prepping culminated into my one and only attempt at fulfilling my life's goal. And yet, standing face-to-face with Jen's disfigured visage in that clearing, I began doubting. my ability to finish what I had so eagerly started. Wendigows, mythical beast originating in the Algonquin people's folklore, described by them as monsters and evil spirits, drawn to hunger, greed, and the cold. They can push people to acts of murder and cannibalism as humanity's knowledge and experience with these beasts increased.

We came to understand that they possess many more abilities than that. manipulation, possession, and metamorphosis, just to name a few. But through all of that, through all of the variance and permutations of these spirits that humanity has conjured up, one fact has remained constant, their hunger. The same hunger that radiated from Jen's eyes as she faced me after three decades apart, she began circling me at a distance, observing me. Plotting out her next move with care. I held my hand extended in her direction, my hope dying with every call of her name that went unanswered. Jen, please, I pleaded, feeling the panic attack reach its peak. It's me, babe. It's Aidan. Her beady eyes narrowed at the mention of my

name, and she stopped pacing. I recognized that sweet. taste? She garbled, extending a blackened tongue out of her mouth and licking her lips. My sweet, sweet Aden. Her mellow, angelic voice was but a shell, emptied of its warmth and filled back up with hatred. It sounded raspy and gruff, a far cry from the voice that used to soothe my heart. If Jen's essence was still trapped in the monsters she'd become, I couldn't see any portion of it rising to the surface. Putting my free hand back around the shotgun, I doubled down on my goal of ending the existence of this miserable creature and freeing Jen's soul. She deserved no less, and my biggest regret was that it had taken me so long to bring myself to face

her. In a flash of realization, she dropped down to all fours and bounded towards me through the snow. Fighting back the panic attack, my labored breath hitching in my throat, I aimed the shotgun. The echoing shot claimed the silence of the night, pushing the stock into my shoulder. The smell of burnt gunpowder mixed in with the shock of the recoil, help set my mind back on track. The flurry of buckshot connected, hitting Jen's ribs as she tried to dodge it. Animalistic screams of pain left her throat, but she was undeterred. With renewed anger, she kept running towards me. I let out two more shots before she jumped me, but the bullets wouldn't pierce her tough skin. With a final leap, she landed on top of me, and I toppled to the ground. My world reduced itself down to the smell of death.

and decay emanating from her, and to her claws and teeth, desperately trying to dig into me. She viciously tore through my clothes, drawing blood that welled from my wounds and stained the both of us in our struggle. I tried to roll away, to break free and gain the upper hand, but her strength was much greater than mine. She kept me pinned down in the snow and latched her jaws around my left shoulder. I felt the muscles and tendons get crushed under immense force, but her jaded teeth couldn't pierce the jacket. Letting go of her center mass that I failed to push away, I gripped and maneuvered the shotgun until its barrel rested against her exposed abdomen. I pulled the trigger, and the force of that shot made her let go. She jumped away, off of me and on her

feet, growling as she held her bleeding stomach. The point-blank shot managed to pierce and wound her, but I could see her flesh bubbling and weaving back together. In a matter of moments, the damage was as good as gone. My only chance was to ignite the fire and use the flames to my advantage, but I couldn't be hasty. The light and warmth of the blaze would have scared her away, forcing me to hunt her down or abandon the attempt, neither of which I wanted. She needed to be on the pyre. I walked back towards it, keeping the shotgun trained on her, letting out more shots whenever she got too close for comfort.

When I finally got close enough, and one of my feet snagged on the logs, I feigned surprise and pretended to topple backwards onto it. She took the bait, jumping me without hesitation. Her hands tore the zipper of my jacket, exposing the shirt beneath. Before she got a chance to dig into me, I struck the side of her head with a shotgun's butt and let out another shot in the small window of time when she was disoriented. The buckshot cleaved through the left side of her neck, almost disconnecting her shoulder. I grabbed her torso, hoisting her up.

She screamed and struggled in my grasp, her rapid healing kicking in and giving me only moments to act. I tossed her onto the pyre, as far up as I could manage, and I pulled the lighter out of my breast pocket. Her eyes widened as I struck it, but she didn't manage to run away. The lighter landed on the gasoline-soaked wood, igniting it as the flames spread rapidly upwards. It wasn't like in the movies.

Let me make that clear. It was wood-soaked in gasoline, not high-yield explosives going up in a blaze of glory. but the spread of the flames was still fast. All I needed to do was to make sure that Jen wouldn't escape before the fire consumed her. The flames reached Jen's feet, setting her off at a supernatural rate. The fire clung to her skin like napalm, engulfing her in a matter of moments. She tried to jump away to save herself, but I shot her back down. Weakened by the heat, her skin couldn't stop the buck shots anymore, and her left leg was blown away at the knee. She screamed and convulsed, cursing my name as the flames ate her little by little. You see, there's a reason why Wendigo's

prefer winter and the cold it brings. Warmth weakens, or outright negates the natural armor that is their skin, and fire has the potential to kill them. I never needed to reload. By the time I shot the second shell, she could barely bring herself to stand. By the time I shot the third and final one, she was more bone than flesh. Her skin fell away in large chunks, exposing the muscles and organs beneath, to be charred into ashes that dispersed in the breeze. After a few minutes, as the fire reached its peak, Jen was nothing more than a blackened skeleton. Her form was dead and I hoped that her spirit would finally go to rest. With my job done, I took a deep breath and let my muscles relax. I would need to stay awake throughout the rest of the night to make

sure that the fire wouldn't spiral out of control, but the worst of it was over. Or so I thought, Until I heard countless screams just like Jen's resounding from all around the mountainside, I hastily reloaded the shotgun as I turned to face the forest, and I found dozens of pairs of of eyes peering at me from the cover of darkness. I was a fool to believe that Jen would be the only Wendigo in these mountains. But none dared approach the clearing, afraid of the fire raging in its own. center. Having seen me dispatch Jen only drove home the point that they shouldn't be messing with me, so they kept to the shadow of the night. A few of them tried taunting me into action,

repeating Jen's words in her voice and thrusting themselves into the light before quickly retreating. But I didn't budge. With midnight having just passed and seven more hours until sunrise, I hoped I could prolong the fire's life enough to see the night's end. That hope was dashed the moment all of the Wendigoths fell silent, looking up at the peak that loomed above us. My sight followed theirs, slow and afraid, because I knew what I'd find. The real beast, the Wendigo spirit in the flesh, was in the same spot I'd seen it all of those years ago. It let out a howl that put the others to shame, and it jumped with it. so much power that it turned into a black dot flashing across the moon's image in the sky.

Above the cabin, above our heads, over miles of forest, landing in the valley below with such force that it sounded like a stick of dynamite going off. I heard it let out another howl before barreling up the slope towards me. It sounded like a thousand horses galloping at once, and it moved just as fast. Knowing that the normal buckshot wouldn't leave a dent in it, I reloaded the shotgun with silver slugs in the little time I had. As the last one slipped in and I pumped the shotgun, I saw a tree flying towards me through the air.

I ran, dodging the slam of branches and the rain of pine cones. The tree fell on top of the pyre, scattering the burning logs into the snow around and killing the flames almost instantly. As they melted the flakes into water that quickly evaporated, filling my surroundings with steam that condensed into a thin fog. The light died down to almost nothing. I turned to face the forest and saw the immense shadow of the true Wendigo loom over the canopy of the evergreens, dwarfing them in size. It stopped at the edge of the clearing, slowing down, but still advancing towards me, a show of its confidence, of its abilities, and of its certainty that I posed no threat to it. It towered over me in the cabin, two stories tall, without

measuring the antlers on its head. Its center mass resembled a desecrated deer. Its hind legs were like that of a goat, and its forelimbs were wolf-like in nature. ending in paws with enormous claws. Its head was a deer skull devoid of flesh, with leathery skin hanging off its sides, and a mane of thick hair running down its spine. That was, until it stood upright and began to morph. Its back straightened with sickening pops of dislocating bones, the hind legs shortened, And the pause slowly turned two hands before my eyes. It took on a smaller appearance, but not any less threatening or terrifying as it approached me.

Seeing it in action, I finally understood what I was up against, and the severity of my predicament left me paralyzed in terror. Over years of research into the Wendigo's myth, I came across many variants of this creature, each with their own description of its appearance and abilities. In my pursuit of the truth, I mostly ignored the accounts of the settlers, which were much more outlandish, and focused on those of the native people. The people, I believe, had the most experience with the Wendigo. The people I believed didn't blow the beast out of proportion. And I'd been wrong, as every story tends to have a seed of truth to it. The beast I was now facing, this force of nature, it was the real

Wendigo, a spirit of the land. And the humans imbued with its power and twisted by its madness were nothing more than pale limitations. Possessed puppets for it to commandeer as it pleased. The most outlandish claim about it came to mind, the fact that the Wendigrow was grows bigger and stronger, the more people it consumes. And seeing its true size for myself, seeing all of the possessed that surrounded us, I now knew that to be true. I trained the shotgun on it, ready to shoot at a moment's notice, and began walking sideways back towards the pyre, not to reignite it, but to get the axe, so that I might stand some chance. From the look in its eyes, I knew that it had me figured out, and yet it allowed me to retrieve the axe.

Another show of confidence, I realized, as if it wanted to say that the silver-coated toothpick would do nothing to help me. It let out a huff of air through its nose and began moving again, closing in for the kill. With the axe at hand, I struck the other gasoline canister, piercing it and sending it flying. It landed on the same. It landed on the the dying embers as I dashed away. And this time there was a bang, still not a Hollywood style bang, but a bang strong enough to reignite the fire and send flaming shards of the canister flying. The Wendigo took a step back, giving me enough time to put my plan into action. I ran for the sleigh, picking it up and holding it against my chest. Turning back around

towards the slope, I ran by the beast. shooting two shells at it as I passed. The slugs impacted its body, creating fist-sized holes in its flesh and making it burn from the contact with the holy metal. It let out angry howls, but I didn't stop or turn around. I jumped to my belly, landing on the sleigh and pushing myself downhill. I quickly picked up speed through the fresh snow, but it wasn't exactly a well-used skiing track. I'd only go so fast, and it wasn't fast enough. Behind me, the Wendigo dropped back down on all fours and gave chase, with its puppets following closely behind. I maneuvered into a thicker part of the forest, weaving the sleigh between trees in an attempt to make it slow down.

But it was agile for its size, easily copying my moves and gaining on me fast. The few trees it couldn't dodge, it simply head-butted, uprooting them and sending them flying down the slope. Halfway down, with the incline beginning to falter. It caught up to me. I raised the shotgun with one hand and fired again, but it braved the slug without slowing down. Its antlers pointed my way, and it tried to shove them beneath the sleigh to upend me, but I switched to the axe. The moment it got close enough, I struck the blue. laid in its neck with all the strength I could muster. It embedded in the Wendigo's flesh, but I couldn't push it deep enough. As it thrashed around, the handle got torn out of my grip.

A new sound appeared in the distance, barely audible at first, but growing in intensity until I could make it out over the gusts of wind and the Wendigo's loud steps. The sound of an engine of some kind. Turning my head around for a split second, I saw headlight some 300 feet away and gaining on us fast. In a matter of moments, a snowmobile driving recklessly was on the Wendigo's heels, and I got a look at the driver. Rachel. She pulled out a gun of her own as she neared the Wendigo, a small pistol that I couldn't

make out, and she let a few shots fly at the beast. The bullets bounced off, only angering the monster. It swatted a paw at her, catching the snowmobiles front and sending it flying. I saw Rachel land in the deep snow. And then the Windigo approached me one final time, and seeing that I was out of slugs, it charged me. Its antlers caught the sleigh in my right side, sending me crashing into the first tree in my wake.

The muscles along my back got crushed from the fore. force, sending pain up and down my body. The beast slowed down, one of its paws morphing into a hand again, and it used the hand to pull the axe out of its own neck and cast it aside. Black putrid blood flowed from the wound, unable to heal the damage done by the silver. It stained the beast's mane and chest, and it approached me slowly as I turned on my back. I knew I was done for, but surprisingly enough, I didn't feel scared. Do your worst, I told it, in what I was sure would be the final show of defiance on my part. I already got what I wanted, I said.

The Wendigo slowed, its eyes like burning embers made contact with mine, and it narrowed them. The possessed caught up to us, form. forming a rough circle around me, their attention completely focused on what would follow. Peering deep into my soul, the windago showed me the fate it had in store for me. I saw myself in a state similar to Jens, haunting the mountains during the countless eons to come. Never sated. Never warm.

Never at rest. My soul slowly getting corrupted. as it fueled the Wendigo's magic, damned for all of eternity, with no one to come and set me free like I'd done for Jen. The Wendigo bit down on me and pulled back, ready to take me off into the woods with it, but my prosthetic foot came loose. It stumbled backwards under its own force, surprised thick in its eyes as it held a mere piece of plastic and metal in its mouth, not the flesh it was expecting. I was in such a state of shock, my mind so strained by the stress and fear that I couldn't help but laugh at it. Loud, crazed laughter echoing through the forest

as the Wendigo simply watched, not knowing what to make of the situation. As my laughter picked up, It abandoned the attempt to make heads or tails of what happened. Its jaws opened, letting the prosthetic fall into the snow, and I saw all of its muscles tense up, as it pounced on me again. I retreated away from it on my elbows, and it lifted its head high up, ready to bite down on my midsection. Another yell, one I'd never heard before, freeze time in place. A shining streak of metal swung from behind the Wendigo, hitting it in the neck and stopping in its flesh. The beast let out an ear-piercing scream, but I didn't allow it a moment of reprieve.

I kicked at the axe's head from below it, driving it deeper into its neck as I felt the bone of my leg crack. I kicked again and again and again, the Wendigo jolting from each hit, unable to run away. It tried to skitter away, but it fell on its side, bleeding profusely onto the clean snow. The shadow of my Savior moved, looming over the Wendigo, and she grabbed a hold of the axe's handle. With all of her might, she pulled it free. before swinging again. I saw the Wendigo's body convulse with each chop until the blade made it all the way through its throat and separated its head from its body. And all throughout it, Rachel kept screaming, scared out of her mind. What the hell? She asked, collapsing to her knees.

I slowly crawled next to her, under the attention. attentive gazes of the possessed. With their master weakened, they didn't dare approach. Here, I told Rachel, who was drenched in blood from head to toe and trembling with fear and adrenaline. Give me the axe. Her hands relinquished the handle, and I took it from her. Even decapitated as it was, the Wendigo wasn't dead yet, and only the axe's silver coat

coated blade could pierce it. I swung at its chest, hearing its ribs crunch and break, as I pulled the pelt and flesh away. The whole ordeal felt liberating and cathartic, consuming the decades of pent-up hate and regret in May. By the time the Wendigo's chest was spread open, revealing its icy heart, I couldn't even bring myself to despise it anymore. I was spent. I brought the axe's blade down on it, one final time, cleaving its heart in two. Darkness rushed out of it, spreading through the forest like a shockwave. As it reached the possessed, it set their souls free of the beast influence. Their bodies crumbled to dust in an instant as decades or centuries.

of decay came rushing back, no longer held at bay by the Wendigo's magic. I collapsed into the snow, breathing heavily, but thoroughly satisfied with myself. Roger, Rachel said, jumping next to me and shaking my chest. I'm fine, I stuttered. Give me a few. I'll be right as rain. Her eyes went wide as she saw my grin and she punched my chest weakly. I saw the fire from all the way back home and I got worried. I jumped on the snowmobile to come check on you. The cabin was empty and I looked down the slope and there was a big tree flying and I hear that that damn thing scream. I thought you died. In my defense, I nearly did. I said, where's your family?

Are they safe? What the hell was that thing? There's no family. I answered. Never was. I don't have any. No sons, no grandkids. Nothing. I came here alone to kill that thing. I'm sorry I lied to you. She grabbed my hand and helped me into a sitting position, our faces inches from each other. She draped one of her arms around my neck, closing her eyes and leaning in, but I stopped her. I'm not done yet, I said, and I pushed past her. I crawled towards my discarded prosthetic and shook the snow off of it.

The plastic was cracked, the metal beneath was bent, and there were clear teeth marks on its surface, but it didn't matter. I put it back on and got up, helping Rachel to her feet as well. well. We have to burn the body and get the heart into the silver box I left back at the cabin before the Wendigo reforms. I explained, walking over to my sleigh. I picked it up out of the snow, finding it had survived the assault unscathed, so I took it next to the body. I don't know about you, but I don't want to fight that thing again. Explanations can wait. How can I help? Rachel asked. Go check on the snowmobile, see if it works.

If not, we'll have to make another fire here. She did as I asked, trudging through the snow towards her wrecked vehicle. A few minutes later, I was done hoisting the wind ago onto the sleigh and tying it down. The sound of the snowmobile's engine starting up reached me all the way down there, making me let out a sigh of relief. Rachel returned. We tied the sleigh. behind the snowmobile, and we carried the Wendigo's corpse back up to the cabin. The fire still raged

on, and I pushed the body into it, sleigh and all. Just like Jen had done earlier, it erupted into flames, turning into ash in mere moments and scattering in the wind. I locked the heart into a silver box, which I planned to deliver to a shaman who could properly kill the beast, and I saw the I sat Rachel down in front of the fire. I told her the entire story of my life up to that point, just as I have told it to all of you. She listened with bated breath, but I kept going, digging out the memories and laying them bare. For the first time in my life, someone was not only willing to listen to my story, but they

also believed me. I needed to release it. I needed to vent. And I felt all of the pent-up emotions leave me bit by bit with each word I spoke. When I was done, we stood in silence for a while, neither of us knowing what to say anymore. Sunrise came, and we rode off into it on Rachel's snowmobile. She dropped me off at my truck, but we couldn't bring ourselves to part ways. I guess I should be going, I said.

unusually fidgety. I have to deliver this to a shaman. Yeah, yeah, I guess you should, Rachel said. She had her arms around herself, rubbing her own shoulders for warmth. With a defeated look, she turned on the spot and began walking towards the snowmobile. I had my own hand on the truck's handle, but my heart fought my mind and won. Hoping I wouldn't regret this decision, I took off after her, catching her arm and turning her around. And we kissed. Now, I know you probably expect something awesome that we went on to become a bombastic duo of monster hunters, or something of that sort. But we didn't. I left to deliver the Wendigo's heart and hung my rhetorical cape away,

ready to close that chapter of my life. But we are dating. In fact, she's with me right now, reading every word that I've written. She says hi to you all, and I bid you farewell.