I wake the next morning to the smell of lye and lemon. The sun is already peaking through the slats of our patchy roof. I greet the usual dust motes as my mind slowly wakes. I blink a few times before attempting to sit up, which is when I notice two very odd things. Firstly, an emaciated child is tightly wrapped around my side, his knobby hands cupped around his face as if he’s praying. The dark circles around his deeply set eyes almost match his patchy and closely cropped raven hair. His breathing assures me that he didn’t just curl up and die clinging to me in the night.
The second oddity, though, hits me all of a sudden and makes my stomach drop. A pang of sickening nausea washes over me as I notice that the spot Mother is normally glued to is empty. The rest of my sleeping mind snaps awake and I quickly slip out from under the still-sleeping boy. He doesn’t rouse at all when I step away from the bed, not caring to cover him with the blankets. I scan the small space that is our living area and see no sign of Mother. Panic rises so fast it makes me dizzy, and a flash of white scorches through my lungs. My ears twitch at a sound coming from outside, and I practically burst through the front door and out into the open space. All around me, the wind whips, and dead leaves fly past my exposed feet and ankles.
“Mother!” I call out, the disuse of my voice making my shout sound squeaky. I cough and call out again, louder this time. Movement from the corner of my eye catches me, and I swivel. A soft flutter of blue fabric hangs from a nearby branch and I stumble as I turn my body to run towards it. My feet are freezing, but I pay no mind to the stinging as I crunch over leaves and fallen twigs. I scramble to a stop at the branch and reach for the fabric. Taking it in my fist I look at it closely. Tears well up in my eyes and blur my vision. It’s my Mother’s shawl. The light blue stars that pattern the dark blue background are unmistakable. My Father gifted this to her on their wedding anniversary- the year before Father had died.
My head swings around, my eyes scanning for any other signs, and I realize that the wind has stopped entirely. A ghostly silence falls over the trees, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. The sensation is all-too-familiar and my instincts are screaming at me to run back the short distance to my house and to close the door. We live near The Great Bog and I know of, and deeply respect, the elder beings that live there. I would be incredibly stupid not to return to the safety of my home. And yet, I brought home a stray boy last night. I guess ‘stupidity’ is my middle name.
I swallow back the acid in my throat and straighten my posture. I turn around fully and I can’t really understand at first what it is I’m seeing. I try my hardest to keep my face neutral, but the figure in front of me makes my jaw go slack and my eyes widen. I should have gone back inside. I should have listened to my instincts. I should have sacrificed- No. I was out here to find my Mother. She’s ill and she needs me. My nostrils flare and the muscles in my neck tense as I square my shoulders and take in the giant in front of me, its body moving in serpentine motions.
If it were an animal, I would describe it as a sort of deer- possibly a moose. But the proportions are all wrong. Its neck is too long and the hunch in its back makes it look like it’s standing on hands and feet rather than on four legs. Where hooves would have been are clawed hands and feet that are covered in tight skin. I swallow hard as my eyes settle onto the skeletal face that is haloed by wispy black hair.
“What is it that you seek, Wendigo?” I ask with more confidence than I feel. Living out in the wilds, you learn to respect those who hold dominion over the land. A bead of sweat slips down the back of my neck despite the cold, stagnant air. The Wendigo takes a graceful and predatory step forward and stops an arms-length away from me. It bends its long neck down and I can smell rotting moss and something dead and sweet radiate from its gangly form. Its face inches closer and something deep in its throat rattles. Its skeletal jaw opens slightly and it chuffs, its rancid breath blowing loose strands of my hair back.
My heart is in my throat now and I can feel my knees begin to ache. My body wants to fall to the ground and curl up in a ball- or run and not look back. But powerful things tended to pause at opposing powers. I will my face to remain stoic, knowing that my now shaking legs and pinprick pupils give away my inward fear. My heart feels like it’s going to up and leave my chest as the Wendigo leans in closer, the tip of its nose brushing mine. I look into the black pits of where its eyes are meant to be and I can’t help but jump when the creature laughs.
The Wendigo takes another step closer and arches its neck around so its mouth and nostrils are resting against my neck. The greasy black mane that runs down the unnerving stretch tickles at my jaw and makes me shiver. Tears prick in the corners of my dry eyes and I hold my breath. I’m scared that if I move or breathe I’ll lose any of my pretend stoicism and whatever chance I had at living through this. The rattle from before grows louder and I recognize the sound as it takes a deep breath. I feel its jaw open again, this time against my left shoulder, and everything stills within me.
“What? What is? What is you?” I blink, my careful façade cracking at what I had just heard. That was my voice. My entire body tenses as I try to process the question being asked- in my voice. What is? I can’t wrap my head around the Wendigo’s words. My mind is a jumbled mess and I can’t remember if I’m supposed to be breathing right now or not.
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I feel the Wendigo’s head slide away from my shoulder and its neck retracts, bending at an odd angle like a snake preparing to strike.
“What is it you?” Its head cocks to the side, its jaws rattling as its mouth moves in mock speech. Something in its throat pops as it asks again. “What is it you?” My mouth parts as I reflexively reply.
“Mother calls me her little mossflower. But my name is-” I stop abruptly and snap my jaw shut. My teeth click and the Wendigo’s head jerks backward as if offended that I wouldn’t answer. It tilts its head again, almost as if it’s confused, its body continuing to fluidly rock back and forth. My mind races as I remember how powerful a name can be to anyone- let alone anything. I press my lips into a thin line and the Wendigo’s throat rattles again. It begins to circle me slowly, its face always angled at my body.
“Desire?” It rattles as it speaks in my voice again. “Desire mother, little mossflower?” A small, huffing laugh blows at the sweat that’s still dripping down my neck. It sends goosebumps down my forearms and back. My stomach clenches as red anger rises in my gut. Did it have something to do with why I can’t find Mother? I clench my jaw and hold my tongue, not wanting to give it more ammunition to taunt me into saying more.
Just as I’m about to turn my head, I feel a long and wet hand rest on my shoulder. I can see black claws caked in mud and something red that I truly don’t want to know what is resting on me. Another hand gently caresses my opposite cheek and my mouth fills with saliva as I feel the urgency to throw up. I need to convince it to leave, and that’s when my mind begins to properly work. I need to stop being helpless and figure out how to get out of this. I close my eyes for a count of three and open them before taking a very long, deep breath.
I turn my head slightly towards where I know its head is behind me and keep my eyes focused on the claws gripping my shirt a little too tightly.
“What is it you seek, Wendigo?” My mouth closes tightly and the claws fall away from me before its ductile neck whips its head back into view. Its head rolls from side to side and seems to think for a second about what it wants to say- probably with my own words again.
“Seek… little… desire,” it huffs and shifts its feet, the wave of its body moving faster as if it’s excited. “Seek little… flower. Desire is… little. Flower… is seek.” The broken words jumble around in my head and it’s my turn to cock my head to the side.
“You seek a little flower? An herb, possibly?” I turn my eyes towards its snout and the way it levels with my eyes makes me feel like I’m wrong.
“Not an herb, then. Then probably not a real flower or plant-” My mind starts at the realization. No way it would be looking for the boy I saved, right? “Then maybe you desire food?” I mentally curse myself for bringing up the topic. Wendigos only ever eat one thing- and it just so happens to be what’s covering me from head to precious toe. I bob my head and try to think of a good way to turn the conversation. The Wendigo growls impatiently and continues to stalk around behind me.
“What you seek, Wendigo, is to return to your home, then. I have nothing you desire.” The Wendigo stills for the first time, its incessant undulating and stalking stopping as it stares at me. The subtle clicking echo in its throat grows louder and then forms into a low, rumbling growl. The predatory sound reverberating in my chest makes my stomach churn anew. I take a slow breath through my nose and steel my nerves.
“Leave this place, Wendigo. Leave this place and do no-” My words cut off as the creature moves with inhuman speed. It’s a few steps away one second and, in the span of a gasp, is standing directly in front of me. I feel its hot breath sting my eyes and its skeletal jaw begins to unhinge.
“Leave, mossflower? This place have desire. You not leave this place, mossflower.” The voice- my voice coming from the horrific being drops an octave and I realize that it knows that I know what it’s after. I force my eyes to not look towards the direction of my home. I will myself to focus on the clawed feet that dig into the earth in front of me.
“I don’t have what you desire. I don’t know what you’re asking me for.” I do my best to screw up my face and make myself look confused. The Wendigo’s jaw continues to widen, now gaping, and is almost perpendicular to its body. I swallow and my resolve slips, letting a panicked breath out.
“You. Have. My. Food. Mossflower.” Its jaw pops and crackles as it fully unhinges, the opening now perfectly sized for my body. Sweat now drips down my forehead and lands on my nightgown. And, just as suddenly as the Wendigo lurches forward, striking like a snake, a blinding flash lights up the trees. A few heartbeats later, I blink as stars float around my vision. I throw my hands up to my eyes and rub them in an attempt to clear them.
Am I dead? Dimly asking myself, I drop my hands and glance around. I see bleached versions of everything around me. The evergreen trees a short distance away seem blue and the dirt and sky are a blurred white. I flex my jaw as my ears begin to ring louder and louder, and I end up clasping my hands over them.
I drop to my knees as a hot pain begins to boil up in my chest. My throat stings and my arms and legs start to painfully tingle. I let out a groan, it sounding muffled under my covered and still-ringing ears. Another wave of the same sensation rolls over me and I gasp, my hands falling to the center of my chest. My heart burns and I feel like I’m going to explode outward at any moment. I begin to scream. An agonizing shriek escapes from my now-chapped lips.
I’m definitely dead. I’m dead and this is what hell feels like. I dimly begin to accept my verdict- my sentence to the fiery depths that is meant for those unworthy of salvation.
We didn’t worship the right Gods. This is my punishment for being a half-breed. Tears begin to trickle down my burning face. I drop to the dirt, my hands now clutching the front of my nightgown.
The Wendigo got me. Please- whatever Gods that are listening, please spare the boy asleep in my home. I let out another scream, the edges of my vision begin to turn black, and I feel my body impact the dirt before I lose consciousness.