The Wendigo

The two Skinks rode their culchans through the snow with a string of rabbits they caught. Their tribe would eat well. The smaller Skink paused and scratched his feathered chin.
“Look over there, Kai’ax” “Through those trees is a farmhouse. A family of humans live there. We should give them a wide berth, lest they start hollering ‘the Liz’uns are attacking’” “Do they live there?” “Are you speaking riddles, priest.” “This close, we should be able to smell and see smoke from their hearth. No smoke means no fire. No fire means no humans.” “So?” “I aims to find out why they are gone.”
The farmhouse was dark and quiet. The door was in splinters, but the rest of the house was intact; snow billowing in. When the two Saurios entered the house, they were shielded from the wind, but the inside somehow felt much colder than the outside. They found disheveled bones and tatters of clothing scattered about the entry way. There was very little flesh on the bones. Judging by the more intact clothes fragments, it was an adult male human. Not far from the heap of bones was a rifle. The larger Skink checked the firearm.
“This is still loaded. Whatever took him out killed him before he could take a shot.”
The priest looked around the cabin. There were cans, jars, and barrels of assorted food, enough for a good sized family to last the rest of the winter. After only a few minutes of searching, he found silver coins, ammunition, spirits, and medicine. He spoke out loud.
“Nothing was stolen. This wasn’t a robbery.”
They found the bedroom door was knocked off its hinges. Behind it were far more tattered bones and tattered clothing. Four new skulls with rotting eyes and bits of skin hanging on them.
“The father guarded the door, the mother took the children here,” the priest said.
The larger Skink picked up a revolver and opened it.
“Four shots in a six shooter. No bullet holes in the walls. The attacker kept going after eating two bullets. No way these bodies could rot to the bone that fast.”
He picked up a femur and examined it.
“The bones were gnawed on. The blood stains are pretty small for five deaths. The blood was lapped up,” he said. “Skaven and greenskins will eat the flesh of the people they bushwack…” the priest replied, almost hopefully.
The larger Skink picked up a full can of beans and waved it at the rest of the food stores.
“Whatever did this ate the people and left the food and shinies. What kind of cross-grained varmit does that?” “A wendigo does that,” said the priest.
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About twenty men and a half a dozen women crowded in Hammer Gulch’s town hall building, standing closer together than normal due to the cold.
“I think everyone who is willing to come out here is already here,” said the general store owner. “Just get started!” said Widow Ivanov shivering. “Alright then,” said the sheriff in a slow drawl.
The grey haired man stepped away from the crowd and the fire so he could be seen and heard better. Despite being cold as everyone else, he didn’t shiver or show any signs of discomfort.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation. The Millers are dead….” “Serves them right for hording all the food from everyone else in our harshest winter…lost two brothers in arms from exposure, not enough food.” Private Dimitri muttered getting some dirty looks from those nearest him.
The sheriff continued as if he didn’t hear him.
“So are the Turgenevs and the Lopezes. They were killed in their homes. Men, women and children.”
The crowd erupted in inarticulate expressions of grief, anger and fear. Followed by recriminations.
“The Estalians did it!” “Why would they kill the Lopezes?” “Shriznak’s Boys did it.” “Yeah, the goblins did it! String up their green necks.”
As more people called for the goblins’ heads, the sheriff glared.
“Quiet!”
The crowd continued to shout, their anger finally making them all warm.
“QUIET!”
“Ain’t no goblins done this. Whoever did this treated the corpses as their chuck.”
Most of the expressions of horror were silent.
“I heard Goblins will eat man flesh!” Shouted Private Dimitri.
The sheriff was quiet and stern, milking a pregnant pause.
“Whoever killed those families, ate them folks up down to the bone and left the foodstores. They left the money, they left the whiskey, they left the irons. Ain’t no goblin passes up that kind of unguarded treasure.”
The crowd erupted in confusion and fear. Reverend Jonas stepped away from the crowd and all eyes turned toward him. He tried and failed to repress a shiver.
“The Four Horsemen of Chaos rode forth and sent a monster to plague us!” he exclaimed dramatically.
“Sigmar save us!” shouted a woman in the crowd. “Kill the monster!” shouted another man.
The sheriff held up a hand for silence.
“I cotton to kill the monster, sir. We don’t know what we are dealing with. Reverend?” “Winter like this, Famine is strong. Whatever it is has a great hunger, a hunger not satisfied by ordinary vittles.” “Oh dear!” shouted a woman in the crowd.
The lone dwarf stepped away from the crowd to be better seen. The stout mining foreman preened his threads pompously before speaking.
“Now we all cannot have no business with a monster knocking around. A thousand dollars gold, split up evenly to any man who brings this creature’s head.”
Private Dimitri perked up.
“But how do we find this monster? We don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
The door swung open dramatically. A feathered lizard in a Stetson hat strode in.
“I’m your huckleberry.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Three horses and two culchans rode out of Hammer Gulch.
Private Dimitri proudly wore his faded Union army winter jacket. Deputy Schneider, who insisted the sheriff defend the town, was bundled up like a mummy against the cold. Next to him was the headstrong Becker boy who shivered; eager to get two hundred dollars and make a name for himself. None of the men dared take their eyes off the two Saurios riding ahead.
Eventually Dimitri got bored and rode alongside the Skink priest.
“So Rango, I have a question.” “Don’t call him Rango,” admonished the deputy. “He has a real name. It's Yukelshow.” “It’s actually Yuqal'Cho-ax” replied the priest, “But that’s hard for your kind to pronounce so ‘Rango’ is fine.”
The larger Skink snorted in derision.
“What’s your name then, big feller?” Dimitri asked. “Rango,” he said.
Becker broke into nervous laughter.
Dimitri turned back towards the smaller Skink.
“So Rango, why do you ride them giant prairie chickens? Even greenskins learnt to ride horses. Horses are faster.” “Culchans handle the winter cold and summer heat better than horses.” He replied calmly. “Bah, we don’t ride chickens, we eat them. I can’t believe the sheriff and the reverend condones working with Liz’uns on this.” Dimitri retorted. “I cannot believe Yuqal'Cho-ax convinced me to take on a wendigo to help a bunch of lukewarm bloods.” The Skink replied. “Four hundred dollars buys a lot of irons and bullets.” The priest replied.
Dimitri seemed like he was struck silent by the Skink’s retort, his face was briefly contorted with rage as if in a trance.
“There!” the Skink priest pointed to some fresh tracks in the snow. A cross between a naked human foot and the talons of an owl.
“Damn! Those tracks are heading away from the Johnsons’ homestead,” said the deputy. “Too late for them, let’s get the damn windy-go!” said Dimitri. “Agreed,” said the smaller of the two Rangos.
All five unlikely riding companions turned and rode as one.
Hours passed as the five riders rode deeper into the woods. As the terrain got rougher, the culchans fared a lot better than the horses, but neither of the Skinks paused to gloat. The sun was setting rapidly and the temperature was dropping even faster. The horses whinnied nervously. Even the culchans seemed rattled.
“It’s near…” whispered the Skink priest.
The riders looked in the dusk in all directions.
“It’s too dark to see nuthin’.” Becker muttered.
Yuqal'Cho-ax began muttering a prayer in ancient Saurian.
Those creatures with hair felt it stand up straight as a wave of static washed over them. The nearby forest was bathed in soft light, as if from lightning but not dissipating. The riders looked nervously in all directions. All directions except above them.
A dark figure swooped down from a tree and slashed Becker’s throat. He didn’t even have time to scream.
“Mahrlect!” Kai’ax pulled his rifle and fired, but was too slow.
The skink pulled some torches off his belt and magically lit the first one with a small burst of electricity, then used the first torch to light the others. He handed them out to his colleagues as quickly as he could.
“Wendigos hate fire.”
The deputy was the last to get the torch. As he was reaching for one, a dark shape descended and slashed its talons at his horse’s front legs. The bleeding mare cried out in pain and bent forward, spilling the deputy onto the snow. Dimitri's horse bucked him off, though the army veteran somehow landed on his feet. The two Skinks opted to dismount voluntarily.
Schneider got up unhurt, though a little staggered, for the snow cushioned his fall. He shook the snow off his torch before the flame was extinguished.
“Circle up!” he ordered. They formed a loose circle around the culchans and the one uninjured horse which hadn’t bolted.
In the flickering torch light the wendigo was finally able to be seen clearly. Over six feet tall, it was emaciated thin with arms longer than a human would have. Its eyes were red, full of malice and greed. The creature’s fingers were even longer and thinner, ending in owl-like talons. It wasn’t a true skeleton, but the creature’s coal black skin was stretched grotesquely over a very thin frame and skin that was nearly translucent. Its gums were rotted, giving it the appearance of a corpse's grin. It sucked in a deep breath through its teeth, making a noise that was a cross between a death rattle and the winter wind trying to sneak below a doorframe.
It approached Dimitri who froze, staring at the monster in silent awe. The wendigo went around him and rounded on the deputy. The deputy fired his six shooter into the monster but the bullet only created a very small mark of glowing blue blood, the wound sealing up rapidly. The wendigo swiped his talons at the man’s chest and sent him sprawling to the ground. The wendigo licked its withered lips as if savoring the meal it was about to enjoy.
“RAAAAARR!” bellowed the larger Skink as he rushed forward, thrusting his torch into the monster’s chest. The beast burst into flames so fast it was as if the wendigo was soaked in kerosene, but the flare up was brief. The fire was out but the wendigo was staggering as if winded.
“Shoot now!” the skink priest shouted.
Dimitri and the two lizards pulled their long arms and fired. The shots that hit the burned wendigo struck true and caused much bleeding. The wendigo did not rise again. They shot it some more just to be sure.
Yuqal'Cho-ax cleaned up the deputy’s chest wound.
“It’s not deep. Your three coats took most of the talons. It will hurt like hell for a few weeks, but you’ll live.”
He turned to the others who had just finished gathering up the stray horses.
“We need to build a big bonfire to burn it. We cannot stop until the wendigo’s icy heart melts. The horse and Becker too, we need to burn them lest they bear the mark of the wendigo.” “Poor kid. He was just between hay and grass,” the deputy said.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Becker didn’t do anything but die. It seemed unfair that his family got a full share of the thousand bucks. Still, it’s not every day that Dimitri had two hundred dollars in his pocket. A month or so later when winter was finally turning to spring, Dimitri was riding to the nearest real town to spend his reward when he saw there was a cloaked rider on a midnight black horse in his path up ahead.
“Dimitri….” the rider's voice was little more than a harsh whisper but it carried on the wind across an almost impossible distance.
“What? Who are you?”
The rider came closer.
“You have betrayed your brothers in arms, “came the dry hissing voice. "No, I didn’t, they died on their own!”
“You have tasted your brothers' flesh," the voice hissed; the words seeming to coalesce in Dimitri’s body.
The rider approached closer again.
“I had to survive. They were already dead, and I didn’t want to join them!” Dimitri exclaimed.
The Cold washed over him as the veteran clutched his chest in pain. Dimitri screamed as he felt his heart turn to ice. The rider was almost within touching distance now.
“Your heart belongs to me. All of you belongs to me.” “No, I…I won’t…I…I hunger.” “Indeed, but now is not the time to sate your hunger. Spring is here.”
The rider touched his brow and Dimitri dismounted his horse and lay on the ground comatose. The ghastly rider smiled.
“Sleep well, my wendigo. Your time will come.”