Wendigo, Deer Woman and Murder

The Wendigo

The next day, temperatures had dropped to -20 degrees Celsius (-4 Fahrenheit). The fires in both the camp and the village were burning constantly, with many people huddling around them.

But these conditions were perfect for the Colonels plans. No one would suspect an attack in the middle of winter or under these circumstances. To that end, he sent out the light infantry as scouts to report on troop movement and get a closer look on the enemy forts and outposts.

George had volunteered  Dr. Scott in his tent. One of the soldiers had a frozen foot and needed treatment. But there was little the Dr. could do. George helped him to put a paste on the foot, wrapped it in bandages and gave him something against the pain. A few drops of a strong liquid, largely made up from wine and the extracts of coca leaves. "You will feel dizzy but it is very effective against the pain." he told him. He then turned to George. "Worried about your first attack?" he asked.

George paused for a second before nodding. "Yes. I think everyone is afraid." In fact, he hoped he wouldn't shit his pants and run after the first shot was fired.

"I understand, I think everyone feels that way. It's scary." He patted his shoulder. "Just remember your training."

"Right..." George took a deep breath. "Thanks Doc."

The Sergeant stuck his head into the tent. "George, we need more hunters. You coming?" George took a look at the Doctor and when he nodded, he followed the Sergeant outside.

The hunting groups were usually groups of two, one redcoat and one native ally. This was going to be one of the last hunting missions since few and fewer animals were around to hunt in the first place.

George had an interesting conversation with the native, who spoke his language. It was mainly about Christianity and the effects it had on his community. "I'm not sure what to make of it." he admitted.

"At least the missionaries here are not as aggressive as the Spanish ones."

"Not yet." his ally pointed out.

George had to pause and agree that things could get worse over time. Especially if the colonists were left to their own devises. What if there is no more fur to trade? Not enough food to grow? No more enemies to fight? If the colonists were to expand Westwards... He shook the thought from his mind. "Can you tell me more about your customs? I'm curious."

His partner was about to speak when he pointed to a large deer nearby. Both sneaked up and George took the shot. But the gun misfired, wet powder. The deer looked up when he heard the clicking sound, just as the native took the second shot very quickly. But he only wounded the creature and it got away.

But it left a trail of blood and the hunters followed it. It would soon succumb to his injuries and then all they had to do was to collect their prey. Still, they had to be quick. The body would soon become hard as stone in the cold and wild animals like wolves could get there before them. Near a clearing, they saw the body in the distance between the snow and bushes.

As the two of them approached their prey to bring it back to camp, they saw something that looked like a layer of snow. But they stopped dead in their tracks once they realized that the snow was moving.

And their hearts stopped for a moment when they laid eyes on what it was: A strange creature, humanoid in appearance. A head, two legs, two arms, ten fingers. But these were the only human parts about this... thing.

The body was tall and thin, with white pale flesh pulled tightly over the bones. The head was heavily deformed, with gaunt cheeks and the lips had rotten away, revealing razor-sharp teeth. It also had no eyes, just dark pits.

And those empty eye sockets now looked up to the Redcoat and Native warrior. At first, nothing happened. Then the creature, with fresh blood around it's chin, crawled on top of its prey in a defensive position and howled at them.

George would never forget this sound. It was a scream straight from the depths of hell themselves. His partner was the first to react and ran away, pushing him along. He didn't ask what the hell that was, he just kept running without looking back.

The two made it back, out of breath and still in shock. The native ran into the village while George sat down to catch his breath. When asked what was wrong he refused to answer. Until his superiors arrived of course, Lieutenant Brock. "What the hell happened out there?" 

"I... I do not know." George stuttered.

"Private George, Lieutenant Brock?" The Colonel was suddenly standing behind them. "The chief would like to talk with us."

Surprised at the invitation, George followed his officers into the chiefs tent in the middle of the village. The Colonel gave them instructions how to act when meeting him so that an insult may be avoided. The chief, an elderly man nodded and offered a seat to them. The three redcoats sat down into the furs. The native who was hunting with George was also present. "Tell me, young man... what did you see?"

Nervous, George made an report and tried to describe the creature as good as possible. When the hunter agreed with the description. The chef nodded and threw a few twigs into the fire. "So you have met the Wendigo."

"The Wendigo?" George asked curiously, followed by the officers.

The old chief nodded. "A creature that is born from sin, from those who eat their fellow men. It is a beast who's hunger can never be satisfied." Naturally, the officers had a hard time believing it. But George saw the creature first-hand and it was definitely real.

"It is a nice story but we have similar tales back home. Stories we tell our children so they behave." the Colonel responded. He had no reason to doubt the chief, his old friend, but the existence of a magical creature seemed too bizarre.

"Sir, with all due respect, it is real. I don't know what  I saw but I saw  something. Something that cannot be explained rationally."

The chief told them more, warning them that the creature would imitate human voices, hunt mostly at night and could not be killed with normal weapons. Fire could keep it at bay but, so far, no one knew how to deal with this new threat.

"If the enemy wasn't already a problem, now we have to deal with magical creatures as well." the Colonel cursed when they returned to his tent.

"So we abandon the planned attack?" Brock asked, pointing to the map on his table.

The commander shook his head. "No, we will do our duty. Creatures or not, we will attack in two days. And I don't think I need to remind both of you that we need to keep this discovery a secret. I will make sure this Wendigo won't lay his claws on my men. But if panic breaks out... well, I'm sure you understand."

The Lieutenant and Private saluted him before returned to their respective tents.  But George was unable to fall asleep. He could still see the dark orbs of the creature staring back at him, he needed to distract himself. So, he pulled up some pen and paper and drew the woman he met in the woods. He hoped that she was alright out there.

And he hoped to see her again very soon.