I Am The Master, The Thing Called Wendigo
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The child, perhaps no more than 10 years old, crouched over his kill.

his arms up to the elbows and organs. His face smeared with blood, with little clumps of fat stuck to the corners of his mouth. The child looked at its master and cried, "Why must I eat it all?" "Because that is the way, child," the master replied. "You must eat your kill." "But I didn't want to kill her," the child said around a mouthful of fresh liver. "She was nice to me." "As they should be."

the master said. The child continued to eat and eat and eat until his stomach was almost bursting. "I cannot eat more," the child said, whimpering as a stray piece of thigh meat hung from his chin. The master stood there, towering over the child, a beast of seven feet with elk antlers and coal-black fur.

Fiery red eyes blazed from the master's face, and he turned those to the silent forest that surrounded them both. Not a night creature for miles was making a sound. They knew better. "You will eat every last morsel, child," the master said as he bent down and put his black-furred face close to the child's bloody face. "For that is why I chose you. You are a child with an appetite. Satiate that hunger, child.

"Fill that emptiness in you," the child cowered, but did not argue. When the master stood back, the child sighed and then continued to eat the little girl he had lured into the dark forest. Once he was finished and lying in the dirt of the small clearing, the child moaned deeply, a sound made of despair and agony. "Stop that," the master ordered.

"But it hurts," the child said, his hands gripped across his bloated stomach. "Does it?" the master asked, interested. "How horrible is the pain?" "Horrible," the child replied. "I feel like I'm dying." "Oh," the master said. He touched the tips of his taloned fingers together. "Could you eat one more bite, though? A tiny taste of something? Of anything?"

"Think hard, child," the child lay there, panting, and did think hard. Then he shook his head. "I cannot," he said after a few controlled breaths. He seemed to struggle with his breathing. "I cannot." "Then you are ready for me," the master said, and lowered himself to his haunches, only inches from the child. He traced his talons across the child's bloody cheek.

"You will be so delicious." The child's eyes went wide with horror and realization. "You are to eat me?" the child asked, his voice wavering and shaky. "Of course, child," the master said as he nicked the child's cheek with a single talon, then tasted the exquisitely small drop of blood he produced.

"Why, Master?" the child asked, tears spilling from his eyes, creating furrows in the bloodstains. "Because I am a Wendigo," the master replied. "And you are Child. This is our dance." "Oh," the child said and closed his eyes. "I am so very tired." "Of course you are," the master said.

The master, the thing called Wendigo, raised his arm over his head, talons fully extended, and prepared to slash the child open. "Stop, beast!" a man roared from the edge of the small clearing. The Wendigo stood and spun around. "You dare interrupt me?" the Wendigo roared in return. "Step away from the child!" a second man shouted as he joined the first.

Then there was a third, a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh, until more than two dozen men stood in a mob, their eyes locked onto the beast. Each of them brandished weapons such as axes and scythes and other simple farm tools. But simple as they were, even in the dark forest night, the Wendigo could see their sharpness.

"The child is mine!" the Wendigo said. "I took him. I taught him. I guided him. I fattened him. Now, I shall feast upon him." "You will do no such thing!" a man shouted from the other side of the clearing. The Wendigo turned to see a dozen more men, each with their own weapon, standing there, ready to attack. "You will die tonight!" another man shouted.

The Wendigo turned once more to face a new party of angry men. "You are making a terrible mistake," the Wendigo said. "I cannot be killed. I am the hunger inside all of you. I am the ache in the center of your belly. I am the pit in your very soul. I am forever." The men rushed the beast. Their weapons raised, their throats filled with rage.

The Wendigo fought. The Wendigo slashed. The Wendigo bit. The Wendigo gored. The Wendigo lost. An eternal beast or not, the Wendigo was quickly overwhelmed. Some men lost their lives. Many were seriously wounded but would survive to still provide for their families and to keep their children safe.

What was left of the wendigo were ribbons of flesh, broken antlers, and stray pieces of fur flitting on the small breeze that drifted through the clearing. The men with shovels and pickaxes began to dig. They dug all night until the dawn light came up. Then they carefully collected each bit of the wendigo and placed those bits into the hole they'd created. Lamp oil was poured upon the remains and someone produced a cinder.

The cinder was tossed, and flames sprouted from the hole as the Wendigo's remains burned. When nothing but ash was left, the men shoveled dirt into the hole. A man of the church said a blessing just as a ray of dawn light struck the Wendigo's grave. Several men would later swear they heard laughter when the sun hit the grave. Most would deny it. The man of the church never spoke of that night again. And life in the nearby village went on.

Centuries passed. The village became a town. The town became a city. The city became a place of prominence in the land. Much was new. Many inventions were created. The world changed. And the Wendigo waited. It had been correct. It was forever. But forever did not mean free. The Wendigo continued to wait until...

"Dude, check this out!" the young man shouted as he stood next to the group of warped and twisted laurel trees. "This shit is crazy!" Two other young men appeared at the edge of the small clearing. They were all dressed in winter clothing, with thick parkas on top and heavy hiking boots below. The three young men stood around the warped and twisted laurel trees and stared. "Should they be black like that?" one of the young men asked. "They must be sick or something."

a second said. The first young man frowned and reached out with a gloved hand. He touched one of the twisted tree trunks, then yanked his hand back quickly. "You good, dude?" one of his friends asked. The first young man stared at the trees. "Dude?" the young man asked again. "Are you alright?" The first young man, the one to touch the tree, swiveled his head on his neck and stared at his friends. "I am fine," he said.

He pointed to a tight space in the middle of the warped and twisted laurel trees. "Do you see that?" There was a twinkle of light inside. The two other young men leaned forward, their eyes straining to make out what the twinkle could be. "Here!" the first young man said. "Let me help you." He placed a hand on each of his friends' backs and shoved. The young man stumbled into the trees as they shouted in protest. "Dude!" one said. "Not cool!"

"What are you doing, dickweed?" the other yelled. "Feeding it!" the first young man said. Limbs shot out from the warped and twisted laurels, piercing the young men's chest and heads. Ebony leaves sprouted from their eyes, their mouths, their chests, their abdomens. Everywhere a branch pierced, leaves grew. Until all that was left of the young men were tatters of North Face and strips of Columbia.

The forest floor beneath the warped and twisted laurels was soaked in the young men's blood, but that blood was quickly consumed by the pitch black earth. The first young man waited. He did not sit. He did not cross his arms. He did not whistle or make any sound. He stood and he waited. Night passed. Day passed. Night again. Day once more. Then the dirt in the middle of the warped and twisted laurels began to shift.

In seconds, a taloned hand burst through. A taloned hand with coal black fur. Want to learn a new language but not sure where to begin?

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B-A-B-B-E-L dot com slash D-N-S. Rules and restrictions may apply. "Master!" the young man said, his voice a hoarse and parched croak. The Wendigo extracted itself from the black earth and slipped through the warped and twisted laurels to tower over the young man. "You are much too old for me," the Wendigo said. The young man fell to his knees and lowered his face.

"My apologies, master," he said. "Devour me so you may gain strength." The Wendigo tilted his antlered head and studied the young man. "You look healthy and strong, yet your mind is weak and filled with holes," the Wendigo said. "I can sense the constant distraction in you. You are pliable and easily controlled. Have you been prepared for me by another master?" The Wendigo's head shot up and he looked about the dark clearing.

Show yourself, other! The Wendigo shouted. There is no other, master! The young man said, whimpering and shaking as the words left his mouth. Then who controls you? The Wendigo asked. No one! The young man replied. A hiss of frustration escaped from between the Wendigo's lips. He bared his sharp teeth and spat on the young man's head. The young man barely flinched.

"Something has you in its thrall," the Wendigo said. "Stand up, boy man." The young man stood. "Remove your clothing," the Wendigo ordered. The young man removed his clothing. "You have markings," the Wendigo said. "A talon tracing a Celtic design encircling the young man's bicep." The Wendigo laughed. "Do you know what this means, boy man?" "It is a symbol of strength and power."

The young man replied, his voice toneless, depthless, lifeless. "A warrior's band." The Wendigo laughed again. "No, fool! It tells all that you are for sale. This is not the band of a warrior, but the band of a slave." The Wendigo leaned closer and sniffed the young man up and down. "Yet, that is not the weakness in you," the Wendigo stated.

Taloned fingers picked at the discarded clothing until one nail clicked on something solid. "This," the Wendigo said and held up a smartphone to the young man's face. The phone came to life and unlocked. The Wendigo dropped it as if it were a burning cinder. "What is that?" the Wendigo asked. "My phone, master," the young man said. "Show me, tell me," the Wendigo ordered. The young man did.

Night passed. Day passed. Night again. Day once more. The Wendigo learned. The Wendigo studied. The Wendigo realized the world had changed as he slept, and it was a world meant for him. "Where is your abode, boy-man?" The Wendigo asked. The young man wobbled on his feet. His cheeks were hollow. His eyes sunken. His gums bleeding. His lips cracked. The Wendigo sighed and stepped closer.

A terrified squeak bubbled up from the young man's throat. He swallowed hard and croaked. "I don't know. I don't know what that is." "Abode?" The Wendigo hissed and sneered, revealing a canine tooth the size of the young man's index finger. "Your house, simpleton. Where do you live?" "Marksdale," the young man answered. "Take me to Marksdale," the Wendigo ordered. The young man didn't respond.

"Is there a problem, boy-man?" the Wendigo asked. The young man swallowed hard several times, then finally responded with a frightened, "You... you will be noticed, master." The Wendigo laughed. The warped and twisted laurels swayed with his laughter. The surrounding forest went still and silent. "Is the rest of the world like you, boy-man?" the Wendigo asked once he had stopped laughing.

"Like me, master?" the young man asked. "Weak," the Wendigo answered. "Lost. Empty." The young man nodded. "Then I will not be noticed," the Wendigo said. "Transport me to your abode, boy-man." The young man nodded and then slowly got dressed.

Once that was accomplished, the young man led the Wendigo away from the small clearing and the warped and twisted laurels, through the forest, into a gravel parking lot several miles away. The Wendigo stood at the edge of the parking lot and marveled at the vehicles. "These transport you?" the Wendigo asked. The young man nodded as he fumbled his keys from his pocket.

"Where are the horses and carts?" the Wendigo asked as it ran a talon across the hoods and doors of the other vehicles, creating gouges and lines in the various colors of paint. "These things are cold and lifeless!" A Subaru beeped and its lights flashed. The Wendigo froze and stared. "This one is mine," the young man said as he opened the driver's side door and climbed into the station wagon. Then he panicked.

Master, you will not fit. The Wendigo stepped to the passenger's side door and studied the latch. Then he opened the door and slid inside as easily as the young man. Yet I manage, the Wendigo said as it closed the door and shifted its weight in the seat. Now, boy man, transport me to Marksdale. I am hungry. Of course, master, the young man said and pressed the power button.

The Subaru started instantly and the Wendigo laughed. "Ahh, here is the power," the Wendigo said. "You humans have given yours away to these machines you ride in and the machines in your pockets. You are husks and shadows of what you were." The young man didn't argue. He put his car in reverse and backed out of the trailhead's parking lot. In seconds they were winding their way out of the national forest.

In minutes, they were on a main highway. In two hours, they were in the suburbs of the average-sized city of Marksdale. In three hours, they were driving through the downtown area. "Oh, what wonders you have created," the Wendigo said as his antlered head swiveled back and forth, taking in all that had changed since he slept. "Such grand distractions and flights of fancy."

They passed a fast food drive-thru restaurant. "Go back," the Wendigo ordered. "I want to experience that establishment." "It is not something you will want to eat, Master," the young man said. "But it is what you eat?" the Wendigo asked. "Yes," the young man said. "I will watch you eat your meal," the Wendigo said. "Then you will take me to your abode." "Of course, Master," the young man said.

He made a U-turn at the next light and wound his way back to the fast food drive-thru. The young man ordered burgers and fries and onion rings and the largest soda they offered. When the order was delivered at the second window, the young man thanked the worker over and over. "I am so hungry," the young man said. "Okay, good for you, man," the worker said. "Have a good one." "I will, I will," the young man said and drove off.

He left the parking lot without looking and almost collided with the pickup truck. "Fuckin' watch where you're going, asshole!" The driver of the pickup yelled as he swerved around the Subaru. "Fuckin' idiot!" "Insults!" the Wendigo said and steepled his taloned fingers together. "I have missed the taste of those. Pursue that vehicle!" "But my food, master!" the young man protested.

The Wendigo whipped his head around and glared. Drool was visibly leaking from the young man's mouth. "You will eat once I am satisfied," the Wendigo said. "Of course, master," the young man said and pressed his foot on the gas in pursuit of the pickup. They followed for blocks and blocks until the pickup suddenly pulled over into a gas station. The driver got out as the young man drove up behind the pickup and stopped.

"Get out of the car, asshole!" The pickup driver yelled. He held something in his hand down close to his leg. Then that something was raised. "He has a gun, master," the young man said. "Guns, yes," the Wendigo said. "I study those on the device you have given your mind to." The Wendigo opened the door and slowly extracted his seven feet of coal black fur and antlers from the Subaru.

The pickup driver aimed the gun at the Wendigo and blinked several times. "What? I don't..." he stammered. "You aren't..." "Oh, but I am," the Wendigo said as he moved to tower over the pickup driver. He leaned in close, his sharp nose almost touching the pickup driver's, "and you shall now witness all of what I am."

The Wendigo leaned back and stood straight. His body lengthened, his antlers grew. The man screamed and turned the gun on himself. He put the barrel in his mouth and squeezed the trigger. Brains blew out from the back of his head and splattered the side of the pickup's bed. The driver's body collapsed to the ground. People screamed and shouted, then rushed to the man's body. No one noticed as the Wendigo walked back to the Subaru and climbed in once more.

"To your abode," the Wendigo said. The young man was hurriedly stuffing his face with burgers and fries and onion rings. The Wendigo fixed his red eyes on the young man. "I did not give you permission to eat that yet," the Wendigo said. "Spit it all out." The young man opened his door, leaned out of the car, and spit out everything that was in his mouth. "All of it," the Wendigo said.

The young man shoved two fingers down his throat and vomited what he'd already swallowed. He wiped his mouth, closed the door, and pressed the power button. "I like this world of guns and phones," the Wendigo said. When they arrived at the young man's apartment, it was early afternoon.

The parking lot was mostly empty, as many of the residents spent their days at work or shopping or simply not being stuck in a 30-year-old apartment while being reminded that they had yet to make it in life. But the place wasn't entirely uninhabited. Off to the side, where a small, winter-brown lawn struggled against the cold weather, were two young children, two boys, close in age.

Their coats were thin and not designed to keep out the wind that winter brought to the rundown apartment complex. The Wendigo sighed. "They will do. Fetch them to me." "No, master," the young man said. "They live here. How convenient for me." The Wendigo replied. "You can't eat them, master," the young man said. "We will be discovered. You will be discovered."

"Eat them?" the Wendigo replied. "No, you misunderstand, boy-man. I will not be eating them. They will be the ones eating." The young man's stomach growled and rumbled. "Will I be allowed to eat as well, master?" the young man asked. "Perhaps," the Wendigo replied. "Show me to your abode." The young man did. The Wendigo was not impressed. "Disgusting how humans live," the Wendigo said.

"You are the basest of animals." "Yes, master," the young man said. "Now, fetch me those children," the Wendigo said. The young man started to protest, but stopped himself and left the apartment. After a few minutes, he returned with both of the young boys. "I only need one of you," the Wendigo said. He bent down close to the young boy's faces. They did not shrink back. "Which among you is the hungriest?"

The older boy, by maybe a year only, raised his hand. "Good," the wendigo said and pointed at the younger boy. "Then, ee." The young man pressed himself into the corner of the apartment and clasped his hands across his mouth. As the older boy tore into the younger boy, clothes were shredded in his haste to feed. Skin was shredded in the haste to feed. The younger boy was shredded in his haste to feed.

Then it was over, and the older boy was curled up on the floor, weeping and shaking as the Wendigo stood over him. "Very good," he said, then pointed at the young man in the corner. "Stop your cowering. Bring more food for the child." "I don't know how," the young man said. "Do you not have a window to the world in your pocket?" the Wendigo asked. "Learn how." The young man nodded and pulled out his phone.

For several hours he studied websites and forums that would have made him scream and cry for days before. But his drive to please his master overrode his disgust at what he read and saw. The entire while, the boy stayed curled in on himself as he moaned and shook and whimpered. When he pissed himself, the Wendigo laughed. "I have found a way, master," the young man said. "They... they will bring one to us."

"They?" the Wendigo asked. "Men with..." The young man swallowed hard. "Men with certain appetites." "They know nothing about appetite," the Wendigo said. "When shall they arrive?" "In an hour," the young man said. "Good," the Wendigo said and crouched next to the whimpering, shaking boy. He traced a talon across the boy's forehead. "Do not be afraid, child. Food is coming."

At the mention of food, the child stopped shaking and sat up. The Wendigo grinned, revealing row after row after row of razor-sharp teeth. The boy smiled. The Wendigo patted him on the head. "Good child," he said and stood. He was still standing in that same spot when a knock at the door echoed through the apartment. The young man answered it and showed two men inside.

They brought a boy about the same age as the one still sitting on the floor next to the Wendigo. Before either man could speak, the Wendigo walked to them and tore out their throats with his teeth. He spat the flesh onto the apartment's carpet. "Disgusting," he said. "Spoiled meat." "I will remove them," the young man said and started to drag one of the corpses by the ankles toward the bedroom.

The boy the men had brought was petrified and frozen in place. The boy at the Wendigo's side pounced. By the time the young man had the two corpses stacked next to his bed, one boy had been devoured by the other. The Wendigo patted the child's head. "Very good, child, very good. You will be ripe and ready soon." "Yes, master," the boy said. The young man walked out of his bedroom, blood staining his clothes from head to toe.

"I need to get clean," the young man said. "No, you need to procure more food for this child," the Wendigo said. He waved a hand at the young man. "Return to your dark, dark world in that phone of yours. Bring more food." "Yes, master," the young man said, and he got to work. For the next two weeks, the young man did not sleep. He barely ate or drank water.

The Wendigo allowed him just enough to survive and perform his duties. Those duties being contacting bad men who had already done the work of capturing a child, and having those bad men bring the child to the apartment. Day and night, men and children arrived. The Wendigo would dispose of the men as the boy fed and fed and fed.

Then one day the Wendigo did not ask the young man to search for another child. "I cannot eat more, master," the boy said as he scooted away from his latest meal. "My belly hurts, does it now?" the Wendigo asked. "But you will finish this meal, I've hurt," the boy said. "As you should," the Wendigo replied.

The child nodded and continued eating until his meal was completely consumed. The Wendigo looked about the apartment and focused on the shrunken form of the young man huddled in the corner. "They are coming," the Wendigo said. The young man struggled to open his eyes. "Who is, master?" the young man managed to croak. "Them," the Wendigo replied.

"The ones that always come, I can feel them. They will be here soon." "What shall I do, master?" the young man asked. "You will wait, and then you will complete one final task for me," the Wendigo said. "After I feed." "Of course, master," the young man said and crawled slowly from his place in the corner and over to the groaning boy at the Wendigo's feet.

"I will do anything I know," the Wendigo said. Then the beast lowered himself to the boy and fed and fed until almost nothing was left except for the head and an entire thigh. "Now you may eat," the Wendigo said, standing and wiping his mouth. He sighed. "Enjoy your last meal."

"Yes, master," the young man said. He threw himself onto what was left and ate and ate. There was a loud knock at the door. "Archdale Police Department!" an officer shouted from the other side of the apartment door. "Over and out now! We have a warrant!" The young man did not stop his feasting. The Wendigo stepped back until he was lost in the shadows of the far corner of the apartment. "Over and out now!" the officer shouted. The young man ate.

The Wendigo waited. The door to the apartment exploded off its hinges and a dozen heavily armed and armored police officers streamed into the space. The young man had finished the thigh and was gnawing on bone when the police confronted him. "Drop that now!" the lead officer shouted. "Drop that right now!" "Jesus!" another officer said. He turned and retched. He was not the only one. "Drop it!" the lead officer roared.

The Wendigo watched from the corner. No one looked his way. The young man continued to gnaw on the thigh bone. The lead officer opened fire. The rest did so as well once that band-aid had been ripped off. The young man's body jerked and jumped as round after round pierced him. The thigh bone finally fell from his grasp and he collapsed next to the boy's head. The Wendigo waited. The Wendigo watched. He studied the officers.

He paid them very close attention as they went about the business of calling in what had happened. Then they searched the apartment. The Wendigo smiled when two officers opened the bedroom door and found the corpses stacked like firewood. Dozens of them were piled high up to the ceiling, leaving only enough room for a path to the bed. The two officers fled the apartment. The Wendigo could hear them expelling the contents of their stomachs outside. He smiled wider.

Then one officer caught his attention. Unlike the others, the officer was not expressing disgust. Yes, the Wendigo could see the feigned expression on the man's face, but that expression was only skin deep. The Wendigo took a long, deep breath and nodded his head. "You will do," he said, and stepped away from the corner. "Show me your world of guns."

The other officers jolted at the Wendigo's voice and weapons were drawn once again, but they were too late. The officer that the Wendigo had chosen already had his pistol in his hand. He turned it on the others and opened fire, expertly placing rounds in each officer's forehead, avoiding the mistake of hitting body armor. When all of the officers were dead, the Wendigo's officer turned the gun on himself, placing it under his chin.

"No!" the Wendigo said. "I still have use for you." The gun was pulled away and placed back in its holster on the officer's hip. "Of course, master," the officer said. "Do you have a vehicle?" the Wendigo asked. The officer nodded. "Good. You will transport me." "To where, master?" the officer asked. "Are there not many more cities like this one?" the Wendigo asked. "Yes, master."

The officer replied, "Then take me to one of those." The Wendigo said, "I am hungry." "Yes, master." The officer said and led the way out of the apartment. More police cars were arriving in the apartment complex's parking lot, as well as ambulances and fire trucks. The officer answered questions as they shouted at him.

He pointed at the apartment and feigned being overwrought. EMTs asked if he was alright, if he was injured. He shook his head no, and soon he was left alone as the others raced up the stairs and poured inside the apartment. The Wendigo smiled at the activity. He smiled at how no one noticed him. He smiled at how the world had changed. It was as if it was made for him. "This way, master," the officer said.

and led the Wendigo to his police cruiser. The two of them hopped in, and the officer turned on the car. The radio was squawking and he turned it off. "Where are we going, master?" the officer asked. "To one of those towns," the Wendigo said, irritation in his voice. The officer cowered and nodded over and over again. "I'm sorry, master. I'm sorry." "Yes, you are," the Wendigo replied with disgust.

But you are currently useful. Thank you, master. The officer said. I will take you to a new city. I will find you what you need. Yes, you will. The Wendigo said. The officer put the cruiser in drive and pressed on the gas. Then he immediately hit the brakes. What are you doing? The Wendigo asked, his entire presence swelling and filling the cruiser. Darkness crept into every nook and cranny. Transport me!

"I cannot," the officer said, his eyes locked onto someone standing in front of his cruiser. The Wendigo turned his gaze onto the person and hissed. "Aberrant," the Wendigo said. A woman dressed in pajamas stood blocking the cruiser. Her hair was a rat's nest. Her skin was pallid and drawn. But there was an intensity of spirit in her eyes. Eyes that ignored the officer and locked onto the Wendigos.

She brought up a hand and extended her index finger. "You!" she said. The Wendigo sighed. "Transport me," the Wendigo ordered. "I cannot, Master," the officer said. "She is stopping me." "You took my boys," the woman said, her voice barely above a whisper. The Wendigo growled low in his throat. He sneered at the woman, then grunted and looked at the officer.

"Transport me," he ordered once more. "Move this vehicle over her. I cannot, master," the officer replied. "She is stopping me." The Wendigo roared and the entire cruiser shook. The woman slammed her fists down on the cruiser's hood. "You took my boys!" the woman shouted. In the parking lot, officers and first responders who had been previously oblivious started to take notice.

Several turned to study the woman and the cruiser she was keeping from moving. "You took my boys!" The woman roared and slammed her fists on the hood over and over again. "Drive over her!" The Wendigo shouted at the officer. "Crush her! Destroy her!" "I cannot, Master!" The officer began, but did not finish as the Wendigo tore the man's head off and threw it through the cruiser's windshield.

Then the Wendigo crawled out through the broken window, across the hood, and came nose to nose with the woman. "I did take your boys," the Wendigo taunted as the woman stood her ground. "And I fed one child to the other, so that child could be fattened." The woman went to strike the Wendigo, but he caught her wrist before she could connect. "Children have two purposes," the Wendigo continued, "to eat or be eaten."

"You took my boys!" the woman said, spitting the words in the Wendigo's face. "Yes, you have said that," the Wendigo said. Then he snapped the woman's wrist and shoved her away. She screamed and fell backward as two dozen police officers raced toward the cruiser. The Wendigo turned to face them. "You cannot kill me!" he said. "I am forever!" The officers responded by opening fire.

The Wendigo's body danced and shook as hundreds of rounds pierced his coal-black fur. But the Wendigo didn't fall. "I have changed my mind," the Wendigo said as he swayed back and forth. While he did not fall, he was leaking thick, black blood from almost every inch of his huge frame.

"I no longer like your world of guns. They are weak, like stinging gnats. The old world of axes and blades was more effective." He coughed and spit out a dozen metal slugs. He held up his hands for the officers to see his talons. "Let me show you," he said, and took a step toward the men as they frantically tried to reload their weapons. The scream pierced the air, and everyone, including the Wendigo, froze for a second.

The woman leaped onto the Wendigo's back and clambered up to his shoulders. "What?" the Wendigo cried, reaching back for the woman who was impossibly sitting on him. The woman screamed with every ounce of rage and pain and anguish inside her as her hands gripped the Wendigo's right set of antlers. "You took my boys!" she roared as she tore the antlers from the Wendigo's head. She fell backward and landed with a hard thud. The Wendigo screeched.

Every officer in the parking lot fell to their knees as they dropped their weapons and pressed their hands to their ears. The rest of the first responders collapsed also, many too slow to block out the sound. Blood streamed from their ears and eyes. "You took my boys!" the woman said. The Wendigo stopped screeching and spun around to face the woman. "Parents," he said with a sneer. Then the sneer turned to a look of surprise.

He glanced down at his chest. His own antlers were sticking out from between his ribs, their tips lost inside the Wendigo's body. On the other end of the antlers was the woman. She shoved, and the Wendigo toppled over onto his back. "You took my boys!" the woman repeated, standing over the Wendigo as the beast tried and failed to remove the antlers from his chest. She knelt down and put her face close to the Wendigo's.

"I know what you are. I see you for what you are. You cannot hide from me." The Wendigo's eyes widened and flashed with fire. Then the woman lifted her leg and stomped on the end of the antlers, plunging them all the way through the Wendigo's body. The beast's mouth flapped once, twice, then went still. The fire-red eyes flickered and became dull.

The woman spat on the beast's corpse. "What the fuck is that?" an officer asked from the woman's side. More and more were rousing themselves from the auditory onslaught. "Dead!" the woman said. The officers encircled the wendigo's corpse and watched, stunned, as it shifted from a black-furred, talon-clawed, razor-toothed beast and became the naked corpse of an old, old man. Then the old, old man evaporated into a red and black mist,

The officers shook their heads in confusion. The woman spat on the spot where the Wendigo had been, turned and shuffled away. No one tried to stop her. She left the parking lot and walked up to her apartment. The door slammed shut behind her. The red and black mist hung above the officers for seconds, then minutes, then an hour, until it was no longer remembered.

When the weak minds had fully forgotten it, the mist shifted against the breeze and plunged downward. An officer, about to speak into his radio, inhaled the red and black mist. He coughed and coughed and coughed. Then he straightened up as his eyes flashed red. "Dispatch, this is 329," he said, finally speaking into the radio.

"I'm off duty and heading to lunch." His stomach growled. "I'm suddenly very, very hungry."