The Dark Somnium - "I'm Being Hunted by A Wendigo" Scary Stories from The Internet | Creepypasta

Episode Date: March 9, 2023

This story is connected to another video i did called "I have a condition that makes me hunt people" . Check out that part here:https://youtu.be/FGy9mYsvVTo--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/darksomnium/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

I'm jerked out of sleep by a loud bang. My eyes snap open as my heart races, and I instinctively move the upper half of my body as far away from the car door as possible. I search for the source of the noise. When I find it, I feel a now familiar combination of relief and embarrassment fill me. It's just someone else that had come to the rest stop getting back into their own vehicle. I watched the pickup pull out of its space and head back towards the highway as I wait for my heart rate to return to normal. I cross my arms over the steering wheel and lay my head down on them. It wasn't long ago that I wouldn't have even attempted to lie to myself.

It would have been beneath me. I had been many things, but a liar wasn't one of them. Now I cling to these self-created falsehoods like a drowning man, grasping the edge of a life raft. I'm pathetic. I know that I am. I try to muster some sort of anger at that acknowledgement, but nothing comes. There's only loathing and resignation.

With a sigh, I get out of the car and head up the sidewalk to the rest stop buildings. The other parking spots are empty and I'm alone. The night is cold. I pull my coat tighter around me in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the wind off my skin. It's oddly bright tonight. That's something that I'm still not used to about Montana. Unless there's a storm, the sky is usually clear, probably a result of the low population and the wide spaces between those population centers.

The moon and stars shine brighter here than anywhere else I've ever been. There's not much to the rest stop. It's just two concrete buildings, one housing the bathrooms, and the other home to a few vending machines. I head into the men's room and go over to the nearest sink. Above it was a dirty mirror. It's cracked in one corner, and even with the dim light provided by the overhead fluorescent bulbs, it's difficult to make out my reflection in it.

I stare into it anyway. Five months ago, I stood in front of a similar mirror in a bar's bathroom. Things had been different then, better. There hadn't been any fear or this nearly overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that I always have with me. I had been powerful and confident, and at the top of the food chain. I look away from the mirror in frustration. That had been then, though. This is now.

Now, I'm nothing. Just a hollowed out husk of a man that I used to be. After a moment's hesitation, I pull up my shirt and look at my right side in the mirror. There's a small scar just under my armpit, round with jagged lines running outward from it, and the skin is slightly discolored. The gunshot wound had healed quickly, but it had left behind this reminder. Sometimes during the coldest and quietest nights, it aches. I quickly lower my shirt as another man enters the bathroom.

He nods at me shortly before entering one of the stalls. I wait patiently for him to finish his business and for him to leave. I glance over at him as he washes his hands in the sink next to mine. It would be easy to kill him. I could reach over, wrap my hands around his thin neck, and that would be that. It would be so simple. I turn my eyes down towards my own sink. It's a thought without the teeth behind it to make it real.

There's no more desire in me for such things. Even if there is, I doubt that I have the capacity to carry it out. The man dries his hands and leaves the bathroom. I'm alone once again. I glance at the reflection of my eyes. Very alone. I'd come out to this rest-stop on the off chance that the full moon would once again trigger a transformation in me. I've done the same thing at different places throughout the state ever since it happened.

Just like each time before this, there's nothing. The wolf below is gone, just as the wolf above is. Should I be angry about it? I'm not. I'm just tired. With another sigh, I leave the bathroom and return to my car. There's no point in staying any longer. Nothing is going to happen.

I drive two hours back to the small town that I now call home. It still feels strange to be living in one place. I had stayed in some places for long periods of time, mostly when there was a secluded spot for me to fulfill my needs. I never lived in the kill zone itself, however, and I made sure that I didn't sleep in the same place more than once a week at a time. It had involved a lot of camping, and when the option was available, motel swapping. I'm sure that learning that I stayed for so long in areas where I was killing would surprise some people. Most murderers move around at a much faster pace, or they risk being easily caught. I had some major advantages that normal people don't.

At the end of each cycle, when the wolf would shed the man, my body would revert back to human form as the moon and sun reached certain positions. When this happened, new skin would grow back where the old flesh had been ripped away. This would leave me with fresh fingerprints, and my facial and body features wouldn't be quite the same as they had been before the transformation. Every cycle would essentially leave me a different person than I had been during the last one. On the outside, anyway. Now, for the first time, I've put roots down.

That is, if you can call living alone in a small cabin, miles away from town, in the middle of the woods, putting roots down. I only interact with other people when absolutely necessary, which usually means when I'm at work, or when I'm getting supplies. Outside of those times, I keep to myself. As I approach dawn, I make it a point to turn off the car's headlights. Although nothing happened tonight, I still don't want anyone to know that I was gone and arrived back at such a late hour.

It's a small town, and those types of observations almost always lead to questions. I've been so tired that I don't want to run the risk of giving an answer that might come back to bite me down the line. I get that I'm being paranoid. It's not like I've killed anyone since I've come to live here. Knowing that doesn't make the paranoia go away, though, so I might as well not feed into it. Once I'm past town and the small number of houses just outside of it, I flipped the lights back on and continued towards home.

A few miles down the road, I turn onto a gravel path, and four miles after that, I maneuver onto a dirt trail that is almost impossible to spot unless you know where to look. It's extremely uneven, and I go slowly to avoid bottoming out. Finally, mercifully, I arrive at the cabin. I parked the car around back and go inside. It's a small structure, not much more than a small sitting area, the kitchen, the bathroom, but it's more than enough for my needs. I toss the keys onto the counter and stretch out a few kinks in my back.

I pause. I have this odd feeling that something isn't quite right. Nothing seems to be out of place. Still, there's this sensation that something is off. I shake my head slowly. It must be the same nearly disabling fear that's become a part of my life, making itself known. once again. It makes me sick, physically sick, to be so pathetic. There's a noise from outside. There's no way that I imagined it. It was too low and clear for that. There's no doubt in my mind

that something just stepped onto the frozen grass on the other side of the east wall. Not sure what else to do, I rush into the kitchen and open the drawer next to the refrigerator. Inside is a small handgun. As a rule, I hate guns. When I was still killing, it felt too impersonal use one. And now I detest that I have to rely on such a crutch to keep myself safe. I take it out of the drawer and check to make sure that it's loaded and that the safety is off. I shudder. At first, I think it's because of the fear that's starting to grip me, but I quickly realize that it's because the temperature in the cabin has dropped dramatically. Just moments ago, it had been nearly 70 degrees. Now it feels like it was approaching half that. The nearby window is fogging up,

and frost is stretching out from the bottom. There are more footsteps outside. They're slowly making their way around the cabin towards the front door. The windows at the side of the house are already completely frosted over, but I clearly see a dark shape move past the one behind the couch. My eyes grow wide and surprised. Whatever it is, it's huge. Its body blocks out all the feeble light coming in through the window for a moment

before it reaches the other side. The footsteps continue around the corner. corner before coming to a stop on the other side of the door. Everything falls silent. The only sound is the beating of my own heart in my ears. I start to notice the smell. No, smell isn't the right word. Stench is more accurate. It's the copper-like scent of blood combined with the unmistakable reek of rotting flesh. It's so thick that it's almost like it's pressing up against me. There's a new sound. It takes me a moment to identify it. Whatever is outside, it's a lot. It's is breathing heavily. The sound is coming from the very top of the door frame as the mystery

visitor looms over it. I'm being hunted. I've been the hunter long enough in my life to recognize the situation I'm in. The thing outside that door is coming for me, and once it's inside, it's going to kill me. I can feel my body shaking. It's just like what happened back in broken bend. There's something that I can't possibly hope to defend myself against coming for me, and I'm completely powerless to stop it. All my experience and all of my skill means absolutely nothing. I'm nothing. Bile rises in my throat.

My own weakness has me on the verge of vomiting. It's so goddamn pathetic. I'm so pathetic. It will almost be a relief when this creature breaks down the door and kills me. At least that way, I won't have to continue to drown in this sea of self-loathing and mental frailty. After months of being nothing, I'll finally. be put out of my misery. If I wasn't so weak, I'd march over to the door and open it myself. The presence suddenly moves away from the door. I hear the grass crunching under its feet as it

hurries away from the cabin. I stand in the kitchen, confused, with the gun still clenched tightly in my hand, and it takes me a few minutes, but I finally build up the courage to go over to the door and open it. There's nothing there except the faintest hint of the creature's stench. No, that's not quite right. I take my cell phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight. In the frozen grass is a series of long, narrow footprints, each of which ends in thin claws. The trail leads back into the woods. I close the cabin door and lean up against it. Whatever just happened is over now.

I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. I glanced down at my phone. It's less than an hour before I would normally be waking up to get ready for work. no point in trying to get some sleep at this point, and I doubt that I'll be able to, even if I try. I just sit in a chair, staring off into the distance until it's time to leave. Ram's Head Montana isn't really much of a town. It's in the middle of nowhere, even for Montana, and it's home to a fairly small population.

Almost everyone that lives there either runs one of the dozen or so businesses in the downtown area, or works for the logging company that's set up shop in the western woods. My job is with the small maintenance crew that the town employs to keep things up and running. Line maintenance, road work, plumbing services, and that sort of thing. I pull my car into the parking spot in front of the mayor's office. Ram's head is small enough that it doesn't really need separate buildings for each department, so all of the town government departments are housed in the same place. I nod at the woman behind the reception desk as I pass her.

I don't think that I've ever actually learned her name, and if I have, I've forgotten. I go to the stairs at the back of the room and go down to the basement level. This is where both the maintenance office and the record storage are located. Ignoring the records room, I open the door to the maintenance office and go inside. A man named Tom is seated at the single desk, finishing a small stack of paperwork. There are a total of three maintenance employees for the town, Tom, myself, and a woman named Brandy. Tom is the night shift, I am the day shift, and Brandy is a floater. that handles both our days off and when either of us needs a second set of hands for a project.

If we're unable to take care of an issue that comes up, we run it up the flagpole and the mayor requests assistance from the county. This means that the majority of the time I'm alone. That's very much how I prefer it. Tom and I chat for a while, as he finishes the form that he's working on. He informs me that not much happened overnight, with the exception of a burst pipe behind the thrift shop a few doors down. that he can't handle on his own.

Todd is older than me, and he's lived his entire life in Ram's Head. As he's telling me about the repair job, I mulls something over in my head. I've come to a decision by the time he's done talking. Keeping things as vague as possible, I tell him about the events of earlier that morning, in hopes that he can provide some insight about what it was that was outside my cabin. I changed the story to make it seem like I heard it from someone else instead of having experienced it myself. The last thing that I need to do is have people thinking that I've gone crazy, or worse, start

asking some questions of their own. After I finish with the story, Tom looks at me silently for a moment, before getting up from the desk and motioning for me to follow him. He leaves the office and goes over to the records room door. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he unlocks it and leads the way inside. As he begins to dig through the stacks of boxes, he tells me that what my friend had told me about, was it the same thing that Ram's head residence had been reported? reporting since the early days of the town.

There have been dozens of different encounters with a strange and supposedly dangerous creature over the years. Many of those encounters have been reported to the local authorities, and some have even led to homicide investigations. Those reports have never led to anything substantial, and they are kept in a box in this very records room. Locating the brown and white box he's looking for, he nods to himself and hands it to me. I take it from him curiously and turn it around so that I can see the name written on the

label. Wendigo. I raise an eyebrow as I look back up at Tom. I can vaguely recall the legend, something about a person who eats another person turning into a hideous monster. He assures me that he's not kidding. While he's never seen the monster himself, his parents had been convinced that the Wendigo was real and that they'd seen it the year that he had been born.

Every family in the area seems to have at least one person that's had an encounter with the creature at one point or another. We talk for a few more minutes before he yawns and calls it a day. I follow him out of the records room with the box still in hand. I don't have any pressing projects on my schedule, and he's piqued my interest. I say goodbye to him and watch as he goes up the stairs towards the first floor. Going back into the maintenance office, I sit down at the desk and take the lid off of the box before pulling out the files inside.

Many of the statements taken from witnesses sound like the ramblings of lunatics, but as I go through them one at a time, I'm able to piece the things that were the same from each account. A very tall and gaunt figure that walks on two legs, but has very long arms that it can use to run on all fours if necessary. Gray skin pulled tightly against the bone, with the rib cage especially prominent, dark brown or black fur sprouting from its slightly elongated neck and along its back. Long jaws like those of a wolf, a bony growth along the top of its head that resembles

a mask, with antler-like protrusion still sticking out just above the ears. All the witnesses had reported either the stench of death, the temperature suddenly dropping, or both. There was no doubt about it. This so-called windigo was what paid me a visit back of the cabin. I run a hand over my face. This isn't the first time I've encountered something different. Even before my humiliation at Broken Bend, I had bumped into creatures that most people

believe to be nothing more than stories or legends. Some of them had been friendly, and most had simply gone about their business without bothering me. On two occasions, though, a creature had directly challenged me while the wolf was out to play. Nothing had been left of them by the time I had proven why that had been a mistake. The things had gone differently at Broken Bend, of course. There, I shake my head. There's no point in thinking about it. It doesn't matter at this exact moment.

I've never come up against something like this windigo while in my human skin. Even if the wolf is still able to come out, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm seriously doubting that. Last night was the full moon. It's roughly another 28 days before the next one. If the Windigo comes back before then and decides it wants to come inside this time, I'm not going to be able to stop it. I turn on the ancient computer on the desk and go online to find more information about

the creature. There's surprisingly little in the way of anything useful. Windigoes are thought to be more spirits than monsters, and those spirits can enter the body of a person that commits cannibalism, or possibly through bites or scratches caused by a windigo. None of this can be fully trusted, of course. It's the internet. Besides, the legitimate information has been mingled with fiction for so long that it's

impossible to tell one from the other. The day goes by slowly. I'm even more tired than usual from the events of the previous night, and with there There are not being much to do, there isn't anything for me to really focus on. The hours seem to drag by. On multiple occasions, I have to stop myself from falling asleep at the desk. The fourth time that I start to knot off, I just let it happen. No one comes down to this part of the building except for maintenance staff.

Everyone else just calls or sends an email instead. I'm awoken by the sound of the office door opening. I quickly sit up straight and blink to clear my eyes. walks in with a smile and informs me that he's here to relieve me. I glance over at the clock on the wall. It's slightly past six. I've been asleep for over five hours. Instead of going to my car, I walk down the street to a small diner.

I'm feeling a bit more refreshed after my longer than expected nap, but I was asleep for so long, but I missed lunch. The restaurant is almost empty. I am able to order my meatloaf sandwich to go and be back out on the street in less than 10 minutes. The sun is already low on the horizon, and the sky is painted in shapes of dark blue and purple. I take my time walking back to my car. The night breeze is cold, but pleasant, and after being stuck in the windowless office all day, I'm grateful to be able to suck the fresh air into my lungs. A lot has changed since broken bend, but my preference for being outside rather than inside has

not. I stopped walking about a dozen yards from my car. Off in the distance, standing just outside the tree line on the opposite side of the road is a figure. It's tall and thin, and it's standing completely still. I can't see its face from this distance, but I have the distinct impression that it's watching me. There's no doubt in my mind that it's the windigo that visited me at my cabin. Portions are all wrong for a normal person. Even if that hadn't been the case, though, I'm sure I would know what it was anyway. As the wolf, I've stalked people the same way that it's stalking me. It tilts its head slightly, and I can see the dark outlines of the sharp antlers jutting out from the sides. I can see its malice as if it's pouring out of the creature. It seems like there's

something more, however. I think it's curious about me. I drop the bag containing my food as I feel something stir inside of me. It's a sensation that I haven't felt in what seems like a lifetime. The wolf below has sensed the windigo's presence and it's reacting to it. Is it possible? Could the windigo be the key to getting back to who I was instead of staying this pathetic weak shell? The wolf below falls back into its silence and I once again left feeling empty. Whatever interest this creature had to the wolf clearly isn't enough to bring it out of me once

again. I don't know if it's better to know that it's still inside of me or not. If I didn't, I might be able to find a way to eventually move on. The Windigo stares at me for a few moments longer before disappearing back into the brush. I know that I'll be seeing it again soon. That message had been received loud and clear. I watched the woods for a minute. Satisfied that the creature is actually gone, I retrieve my dinner from the pavement and get into

my car. I sit behind the wheel and take a deep breath. I have no idea why the Window seems so interested in me. It senses the wolf buried down inside of me and sees it as some kind of rival. Maybe it hates the way that my face looks. There's no way to know. Shaking my head once to clear it, I head back home. One thing is for certain.

For whatever reason, it has an intense hatred towards me. That means that I'm not going to be safe until I deal with the problem. The smart thing to do is to run away. Go back to the cabin just long enough to gather my things, toss them into the car, and get as far away from Ram's head as possible. It's not like I have some deep connection to this town, and, based on the history of the reports Tom had presented to me, the Windigo does. It would be the same as Broken Bend.

I get out of the creature's territory, and I'll be safe. I feel my face grow warm with a mixture of shame and anger. Yeah, it would be exactly the same as Broken Bend. There I had turned tail and run like a scolded dog, and where'd that gotten me, to a town in the middle of Montana, where I work as a glorified? Handi Man instead of being a god of the hunt as I once was. I shouldn't have run then. I should have stood my ground.

I would have been victorious over a great and ancient enemy, or I would have died trying. Either would have been preferable to this. Forget it. I'm not leaving. Let this Wendigo come for me. If I have to do this alone, so be it. That is, of course, so much easier said than done. Arriving at the cabin, I get out of the car and immediately head inside.

I don't know if the Windigo is going to visit again tonight, and if it is, I don't know how long I have before that happens. I have to make whatever preparations I can as quickly as possible. There isn't really much that I can do. I make sure that the windows and doors are locked, and I scatter knives and other sharp objects around the inside of the cabin to make sure that one is always close by. I also attach a holster to my belt and slide my gun into it. These precautions probably won't make much of a difference, but every one way.

little bit helps. Not having much to go off when it comes to Wendigo's, I try to think of what would have slowed me down, even slightly, as the wolf. There isn't much in that particular category, and most of the things that might work aren't readily available to me. I take the heavy iron poker out of the stand by the fireplace. I'm just going to have to make do with what I have. I turn off all the lights and sit down on the couch to eat my dinner.

I'm sure that I won't be able to hide in the darkness, but at least having the lights off will make it more difficult for the wind to go to see me moving around from outside. That's the theory anyway. I'm just finishing my food when I hear a noise from outside. It's very faint, and after a few moments, I start to wonder if it was just my imagination. A twig snaps. I had definitely heard that. Slowly getting to my feet, I leave the poker on the couch and pull my gun out of its holster.

As I do so, I notice that I can see my breath in the air. The temperature in the cabin is rapidly dropping. It's here. It's not coming around the side of the cabin this time. I can hear its footsteps coming straight towards the front door. An idea comes to mind. I hurry over to the wall opposite the door and open the window. It's not large enough for the wind to go to fit through,

but I can use it as a sort of emergency exit if necessary. The footsteps stop at the door, and there's a long moment of silence. I point the gun towards the entrance and wait. The quiet is broken by the sound of wood breaking and splintering. The creature is scraping its long claws against the door. It's either testing the strength of the door or it's toying with me. I know that it's going to eventually come through the doorway, and when it does, that's going to be my best chance to hurt it.

As it's stepping inside, I'll do as much damage as I can with the gun. There's a small chance that I can kill it before it makes it all the way inside. I doubt it, though. The best I can realistically hope for is to hurt it enough to slow it down, or best-case scenario, scare it away. I hear the heavy breathing on the other side of the door and remember the look it gave me back in town. This isn't the kind of beast that can be scared off by something like a gun. The door shakes on its hinges as something heavy impacts it from outside.

Looks like the windigo is ready to get serious. The second strike breaks the lock on the door and it swings open into the entryway. Standing outside in the night, shadows covering much of its body, is the windigo. I'm frozen in place for a pair of heartbeats. I saw it from a distance earlier, and I read the reports describing it, but I'm still not prepared for what I'm seeing. It's like I'm staring at an artist's interpretation of a demon come to life. Steam is billowing out of its bone-covered, snout-like mouth and nose.

The eyes are far back in the sockets, making them look like black orbs. Antlers extend about three feet out from the sides of its head. The branches twisting and ending in points resembling thick snakes. It opens its mouth, revealing large canines and razor-sharp teeth around them. They are the same reddish-brown color as the bones covering the face, and they're longer than any others I've ever seen. It's the face of a living nightmare. As it bends over and begins to enter the cabin, I snap out of my momentary paralysis and begin

to fire the gun. I keep pulling the trigger over and over again until the weapon clicks empty. I'm certain that every shot struck the windigo, but it didn't even seem to notice. I drop the gun and pick up the poker. The metal has grown cold as the temperature is dropped, and it quickly becomes painful to hold. I ignore that pain and grip it with both hands. The windigo is fully inside now, having maneuvered its skeleton-like body through the doorway. It doesn't seem to be able to stand fully upright due to a carb in its spine, but it's still well over eight feet tall.

It advances towards me with a sound that combines the deep rumble of a dog's growl with the cackle of a hyena. It reaches out one of its cadaverous arms towards me, and I swing at it with the poker. The metal clings against the flesh and bone, and the weapon nearly flies out of my hands, but it's like I struck a brick wall with it. The creature snarls and grabs the poker. With one motion, it tears it out of my grip and throws it out into the kitchen. One of the knives I had scattered around in the cabin is nearby, and I hurriedly retrieve it and plunge it into the windigo's exposed chest.

The blade manages to miss the thick ribs. But even though I put everything I have into the thrust, the tip sinks in less than a quarter of an inch. The windigo snarls and ducks its head forward, biting down onto my shoulder. Its teeth pass through my skin and muscle like they're nothing. It raises its head back up, tearing off strips of flesh as it does so. The act knocks me to the floor, and I scramble backwards away from the creature as it devours the skin. Thin streaks of blood run down the sides of its mouth, in that brief moment when its attention isn't on me. My shoulders screams in agony as I push myself back onto my feet.

There's no way that I can win this fight. It had been pure hubris to believe otherwise. I need to get out of here and find help. I make it over to the open window and try to hoist myself through it. My injured arm gives out and the side of my face strikes the window frame. I taste copper in my mouth. I try again and this time I manage to force my body outside. The windigo screams in frustration just as my feet clear the frame,

A long arm comes lashing out of the window after me, but it passes over me as I lay flat on the frozen ground. I hear it crash around in the cabin as it turns back towards the door. At that moment, I realize that I'm never going to be able to escape, not like this. My car is parked out in the front of the cabin, in the same direction that the windigo is headed now. Even if I somehow manage to make it to the vehicle, it will be on me before I can drive away. I'm not going to be able to hide in the woods either. it'll be around the side of the building before I'm able to reach the tree line. My only hope is to confuse the windigo enough that it makes a mistake and gives me an opening to get away.

I use the cabin wall to help me regain my footing before pushing myself back through the window and into the living room. Once again, I rush over to the far side of the fireplace and press my back up against it, blocking me from the view of the window. I listen as the windigo approaches the open window from the outside. I close my eyes and wait. If this doesn't work. It stopped walking, and I hear it growl and frustration as it fails to find me where it thought I'd be. I tense as its claws scrape against the side of the cabin.

My plan hadn't worked. It's figured out that I'm back inside, and it's going to— My thoughts are interrupted as the windigo begins moving again. Instead of coming back around to the front of the cabin, though, the footsteps grow fainter as the creature heads towards the woods. It must think that I've made a run for it, just like I'd hoped. I lean up against the side of the fireplace, breathing heavily as I feel warm blood leaking from my shoulder.

The Windigo's bite had penetrated all the way to the bone, and it had torn a good chunk of flesh from me. My entire arm burns like it's on fire. With each breath that I take, the area at the edges of my vision grow darker. I'm light-headed and starting to feel like I'm going to pass out. I can't let myself do that. The Windigo is seemingly gone for now, but it could come back at any second. I have to stay awake and get to the car.

The darkness is quickly moving inward, though, and I'm feeling more and more detached as each moment passes. I barely notice as my body begins to change. It's a fast transformation, not at all like the agonizing slow one that used to happen when the wolf below would emerge. There's no pain as my limbs stretch out and skin pulls tight against me. I don't even feel any discomfort as my face shifts into a long snout and the bones of my skull rapidly tear through the top of my head and grow over the flesh. All that I feel is an intense hunger.

It's so far beyond any hunger that I've ever felt that it's completely immeasurable. The desire to consume overwhelms everything else. It's all that matters. The bite. Did I read earlier that day that some of the Windigo legends said that the curse or spirit or whatever can be passed on to another person through a bite or scratch? The hunger pains push all other thoughts from my mind. I barely even register that the antlers have finished growing or that I'm starting to get to my feet.

I have to feed. I have to fill this infinite void of hunger inside of me. Suddenly, the hunger is gone. For a fraction of a second, barely long enough to realize that it's happening, the windigo and I are one. I see through its eyes as it takes a step through the doorway leading outside, and I hear the whispers of the entity that has infected me as it drives my body forward. There's a loud whooshing noise in my eyes. ears as everything goes black, I'm falling through an empty space with no light. I keep going down and down into the pit.

It lasts for so long that I began to wonder if I'd be falling for eternity. Now I'm at the bottom. There was no transition from the fall to being here. I didn't hit the bottom of the pit or slow down to a stop. I was simply falling, and now I'm standing. It's freezing in this place. I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to keep warm, but it is a little bit of the It's useless.

I shake uncontrollably in this cold, dark place. I don't know where I am. Maybe I'm somewhere deep inside my own mind, or maybe I've been brought into the Windigo Spirit. Does it even matter? Somewhere out there, the spirit is controlling my body and doing who knows what with it. Well, that part I know, don't I?

I know what it's doing. It's doing whatever it can to satisfy its insatiable hunger. Somehow it gets even colder. It isn't just that the place I'm in is freezing. The heat is being actively drawn out of me. My body has already been taken, and now this place is somehow managing to take even more from me. When the wolf and I would merge, we were both a part of it.

For all intents and purposes, we were the same being. The windigo has invaded me and locked me away. The wolf and I were symbiotic. This creature is a parasite. I grip my teeth as rage begins to build inside of me. The Windigo Spirit comes into my body uninvited and uses me like some kind of living marionette, all while continuing to leach away at what's left of me. It had targeted me with the express purpose of taking away everything from me and locking

me in this Arctic prison while it did so. It hadn't counted on something, though. I'm never alone. I know you're out there. I call into the darkness, my voice sounding oddly flat as it finds nothing to echo off of. There's no response. I hadn't really experienced.

expected there to be. You know what this thing is doing to me. I continued. Doing to us. Are we just going to let this happen? More silence. You are. You actually are.

You're just going to sit back and let this thing bleed us dry until there's nothing left of us? There's still no reply, but I sense that something in the darkness has shifted. This is about what happened in Broken Bend, isn't it? You know, I was embarrassed by what happened to us there, humiliated even. For the first time ever, we come across something bigger and badder than we are, and we run away like a couple of things. of cowards? It was humiliating. I guess it was worse for you, though, because apparently you bent over and let that thing neuter you. There's a harsh snarl somewhere in the distance. Oh, and that got your attention, didn't it? Truth hurts, doesn't it? A deep gutteral growl becomes audible from

somewhere to my left. I turned towards it, ignoring the cold as the temperature once again noticeably drops. We were glorious together. I say as I keep pushing. The perfect killing machine. How many people did we kill? Hundreds? Thousands? It got to the point where I just stopped keeping track. Then we have one bad day. We get our noses bludied a little by something we never have expected, and you turn into a goddamn coward. The wolf roars, its voice filled with rage. Two pinpricks of red light appear in the darkness as its eyes lock onto me. The lights grow closer as it advances. I recognize that look. I have seen it so many times in the mirror. It's murderous intent. Where's all this been since broken bend?

I demand, feeling my own anger growing. Where have you been? Because here's the truth. I didn't give up on us. You did. The wolf stopped moving and its eyes grow wider. It's like I reached out and slapped it. Yeah, you heard me.

This is on you, not me. Do you have any idea what I've done for you all these years? I've killed and I've killed and I've killed for you. All to keep you satisfied and strong until you decide to put in an appearance once every damn month. And I did it with a smile on my face, because you and I have always been in this together. Then you abandon me. The beast remains still. I start to pace as my blood boils. Sweat is dripping from my face despite the cold. You know what? Fine. I don't need you. I don't need anyone but myself. You stay down here and keep cowering in the dark. I stop pacing and look directly forward.

And you? I say as a smile stretches across my face, I see you. I reach out with both hands and wrap my fingers around the throat of the entity standing in front of me. I'm not sure when I notice the black figure in the darkness, or if I've seen it the entire time and just hadn't realized it. Whatever the case, I know that what I'm strangling is the spirit that's infested my body. It has a physical form in whatever place this is, just like both the wolf and I do. The spirit struggles against my grip, but it's weak, and I'm determined not to let go. In some part of my mind, I realize that this fight is, in reality,

some sort of mental struggle against the Windigo's influence, but it seems real, and I lean into it. This feeling is incredible. It's been months since I've been able to take joy in something like this, and a kill has never been as personal as this one. I'm laughing. I'm trapped in a seamlessly endless pit of darkness, and I'm actually laughing. It feels so damn good. You tried to take everything from me. I whisper, as the spirit slowly stops struggling.

Now I'm going to take everything that you have. for myself. That rushing noise fills my ears again, and a moment later, I'm back inside the cabin. All the colors seem dull, and for some reason my perspective feels off. I lift my arms and find that they are thin and long, and the skin is pulled tight against the bone and is the color of ash. A sense of elation fills me. I've taken control of the windigo inside of me. It takes a moment to realize that I'm not overtaken by the windigo's hunger. The overwhelming need to consume must have died with the spirit. There's something else.

It's not something I feel so much as I know. It's like an instinct. I'm certain that I can change back at any time that I wish. I close my eyes, and with one painful lurch, my body compresses and reverts into its human form. It's hard to describe, but it's like allowing a muscle to relax. Tense the muscle, and the windigo emerges again. I'm no longer alone.

I look up and find that the windigo that attacked me is. standing in the doorway. It's staring at me, its jaws open slightly, and a rumbling noise coming from the back of its throat. I grin up at it as I point at my now-heeled shoulder. Why don't we try this one more time? I suggest before allowing the wind to go inside to emerge once again. I don't wait for an answer. Instead, I charge straight ahead and crash into it, pushing us both out into the night. I wrap my long arms around it and lifted off of its feet, Even when the wolf came out, I hadn't been nearly this strong physically. I throw the windigo into a nearby tree as if it weighs nothing.

There's a loud crack as the trunk breaks in half, sending the top of the pine crashing down onto the creature. This is amazing. The Wendigo tosses the debris aside and gets back to its feet. It doesn't seem to be hurt in the slightest. Apparently our bodies are extremely durable as well. Good to know. I quickly figure out the downside to this form as compared to the way. the wolf. While I'm stronger now, I'm slower and less agile. I'm not able to cross the distance

between me and the other windago before it's ready for me. It lunges forward and slams me down onto the hard ground before stomping down onto my neck. I managed to scramble out of the way before it can do the same thing again, but the damage has already been done. It clearly knows how to use its strength and size better than I do. I came into this fight too cocky. I immediately realize that I'm at a different disadvantage as well. The Windigo shrieks at me with a low, hollow scream and plunges towards me with its jaws wide open. It's attacking with wild abandon, its hunger driving it forward in a frenzy. It's a wild animal. I can't hope to match that level of aggression. What I can do, though, is be smarter. I step to the side and allow the Windigo's momentum

to carry it past me. As I do so, I dig my paws into its left eye socket. The creature squeals and pulls away. It backs up and snarls. I wasn't able to blind it, but the blood flowing down from the top of the socket is enough to impair its vision. I'll take every advantage that I can get. It lowers itself onto all fours and comes at me again. This time, I'm not able to get out of the way. It twists at the last moment and clamps its jaws down onto my upper right thigh as it digs its claws into my side. Blood runs out of the wounds. I try to pry it off me, but it's locked on tightly, and I can't get any leverage. The teeth and claws dig deeper.

I can feel the excitement and the triumph and the wind ago. It's moments away from being able to tear me apart, and we both know it. I refuse to let it end like this. Thinking quickly, I get my arms under it and lift it off the ground. It doesn't let go, instead deciding to stay locked on for the kill. I half carry, half drag it towards the broken tree. I'm only going to have one chance at this. If I screw it up where the creature figures out,

what I'm doing, I'm going to die. About halfway to the tree, I start to stagger. The Wendigo's weight combined with the loss of blood is making it difficult to continue. I shake my head to clear it and keep going. Stopping now isn't an option. I reach the broken stump. The Wendigo suddenly realizes what's happening and releases its grip on me in an attempt to get away. It's too late. With one last painful effort, I lifted over my head and bring it down as hard as I can on the sharp, jagged stump. The wood drives into its side, and several pieces of the tree break through the other side of its body. The wounds are fatal. The windigo is twitching weakly, and it seems like it's losing control over its extremities. In less than a minute, it will succumb

to its wounds. I'm not going to let that happen. I owe this beast. It's given me a great gift, and the least that I can do is granted a quick death. Bending over, I bite down into its neck and pull back hard. There's a moment of resistance before skin, muscle, and bone tear. The windago's head rips free from its body, and it falls still. I throw my own head back and roar. This kill is different from the others. It wasn't some random person. This was a creature built for slaughter, an unnatural hunter that had killed and eaten prey for a long, long time. I had won a life and death battle against it. I'm filled with elation and nighian. purpose. I want more. No more wasting time spilling the blood of people that can barely defend

themselves. I need more of this. The thrill of proving superiority over another predator. That's the only thing that will satisfy these new cravings I'm having. I chuckle, the noise sounding unnatural as it comes out of my fang-line jaws. Maybe I haven't fully escaped the initial hunger of the Windigo spirit after all. Maybe my hunger is just of a different type. Closing my eyes, I ignore the stab of pain as I change into my human form. My wounds are already healing, and the bleeding is stopped. I'm going to take the remainder of the night to rest, and in the morning I'll start making

plans. I only know one place to go to find another predator worth my time. I need to go back to broken bend. This time, though, things will be different. I won't be blinded by primal urges, and I won't be taken by surprise by what's there. I'll do my research, learn everything there is to know about the town and the mysterious inhabitant that controls it. And then, and only then, I'll begin the hunt.