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Long and curved antlers, with multiple points reminiscent of a deer, grow out of its misshapen and decaying head. Its wet mouth seems to split its face in half, showing a plethora of sharp teeth.
The creature stretches its hands out towards me. Hands is not the right word, I realize. Talons, curved and sharp, dripping with dark gore, reach for me. Tulip and Max spot the creature lumbering towards us and bite back screams.
I spent my entire childhood preparing for the Race, devouring any books that had yet to be destroyed. I know what I’m looking at, even if my brain does not want to believe it.
Wendigo.
The creature in front of me, the Wendigo, possesses an insatiable hunger, a fact I see reflected to me in its eyes, which glow brighter like coals at the base of a firepit as it stalks closer to me. The scent of decay wafts off it, a sickly-sweet mix of rotten meat and earth. My eyes dart between a frozen Max and a trembling Tulip. I silently attempt to get their attention so they can see me sliding my knives from their straps around my thighs.
Max seems to understand and slowly moves to pull hers as well. We’ve only got one real shot to catch the create unaware. Right now, it sees us as easy prey and is taking its time, feeding on our fear. I grip my knife in my palm, steadying myself with the feel of its hilt.
I inhale deeply, and rot fills my lungs. I swallow back a gag as my free hand taps across my collarbones, counting down from ten. Before I can talk myself out of it, I move my arm up and throw my knife toward the Wendigo.
It strikes true, burying itself in his chest.
The roar of the creature shakes the clearing. Max responds with a dagger in kind to the monster. It lodges in the eye socket.
The Wendigo’s growls reverberate through the air, its good eye glowing and fiery. Sticky, dark liquid drips from around the hilts of our blades, and an unfathomable revulsion at how very corrupted it is seeps into my soul. The monster lunges at me with astonishing speed, claws slashing through the darkness. I narrowly dodge the initial attack, feeling the gust of its movements whip past me.
The creature’s aggression is relentless, every strike more forceful than the last. It’s crazed, swiping blindly toward the three of us in a manic attempt to corral us together. We don’t take the bait, forming a crescent around it, so it has to decide which of us to pick off first.
The Wendigo’s attention shifts to Tulip, who remains frozen in fear as it lumbers towards her. “Tulip! Get out of the fucking way!” I shout, breaking her trance.
The Wendigo stretches a claw towards her, ready to slice her face open. Grabbing my whip from my belt, I crack it towards the creature, where it wraps around the arm and pulls it to a stop. Tulip takes advantage of the interruption and drops to the dirt, fumbling for the dirk she dropped in fear. Her fingers close around the hilt, and clutching it tightly, she lunges forward, striking the Wendigo’s leg.
In my haste to assist her, I almost trip over my pack. The impact makes my body hum, a feeling of ice flowing through my veins as I watch the Wendigo drip its putrid blood onto Tulip. It is precariously close to her, and my only thought is that I need to get to her.
Instinctively, I thrust my hand into my pack and pull out the Witch’s Ladder. I wrap it tightly around my wrist and lunge toward the Wendigo’s back, landing on the creature’s bony frame just before he can grab Tulip by the neck. I scramble up its back, feet pushing through the flesh around the spine as I struggle up its body. My whip hangs uselessly from its arm, and Tulip’s dirk is embedded in its leg, but still, it does not seem deterred.
I grip its antlers tightly, pulling its head back with all my strength. It swipes blindly at me, its claws striking true and digging into my bicep. “Max!” I hiss urgently, not needing to say more. She swiftly throws another stiletto into the Wendigo’s chest to little effect.
I’m working my blade across its throat, slowly cutting through the muscle and sinew, my free hand tightly gripping the bucking creature. A calmness comes over me as I realize that death certainly is on the horizon for me. There is no way I can survive this. My mind tunnels, my only focus being to weaken the monster enough for Max and Tulip to escape.
The Wendigo, seemingly just realizing the combined threat from us, becomes more desperate, lashing out with renewed fury. Its roars reverberate through the night, even the trees trembling at its presence. Bucking and thrashing beneath me, the creature fights to dislodge me. My strength is slipping, and I feel myself losing my hold upon its back.
Max and Tulip launch every attack they can think of, but it’s not enough. We lack ranged weapons, and they fear getting too close to the monster threatening us. I hang from its neck like a rag doll, unable to regain enough purchase to continue attempting to slice its throat.
My eyes dart to my wrist and the Witches’ Ladder that hangs there. All of the stories I read about Ladder’s said pulling the feather would release the spell. I suppose it’s time to find out.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull the first feather I can find. It is black as night, with veins of blood red tracing through it. As soon as it’s free, I drop it and watch it lazily float to the ground. A trickle of fear and exhilaration drips down my spine like sweat.
It’s fully dark now, and with shadows creeping around us, an eerie, otherworldly look is cast onto the battle unfolding. Our grunts of effort and the squelching of blood mix with the roars of pain and anger from the monster.
Tulip takes a claw to the face, marring her young, beautiful skin with a thick slash across the cheek. Max has been knocked down more times than I can count. I find myself praying to Himureal that the Winter magic embedded in the Witch’s Ladder comes to life but seeing no sign of it yet.
As if in answer to my pleas, the shadows edging our clearing move, controlled by an unknown force. This must be the spell the feather released. I watch the shadows crawl towards me, wrapping around the creature’s legs and climbing its body like a deadly snake.
The Wendigo stumbles, falling to its knees. It lashes out its claws and catches Max on the hip. She yelps in pain, dropping to the ground. Her blood fills the air, and our shared history flashes before my eyes. I want to go to her to be sure she’s okay, but I cannot let go of the creature even if I want to - I am glued to it by the shadows.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Tulip launches herself at the creature’s exposed flank, striking with precision. Her blade slices through the Wendigo’s decaying flesh, drawing a gush of blackened blood that coats her chest. The beast emits an otherworldly screech, its thrashing growing even more frenzied.
The shadows continue to creep upon us, wrapping around me in turn. I feel them like bracers on my forearms, and I almost purr at the sensation that washes over me at their contact. The warmth they impart to me melts the ice in my veins. I watch as the shadows render the Wendigo immobile, its limbs pinned to its side in an impenetrable vice.
One of the shadows slips off my forearm and winds itself around the throat of the Wendigo, tilting its chin to the sky. The decaying flesh stretches taut, gashes from my knife shimmering in the moonlight. I resume sawing at the muscle and sinew as quickly as possible before the shadow spell wears off. The thick, infected blood of the creature drips down my arms, and the remaining shadow bracer seems to relish it. It writhes around my arm, rolling in blood in satisfaction.
“Tulip, help me with its throat!” I call out, unable to get through the neck as quickly as I’d like. I have no idea how long the shadows will assist me, and I am not looking forward to fighting this thing without them.
Tulip is by my side swiftly, working her dirk into the exposed flesh beneath what used to be a chin. Max pulls her daggers from its body and joins us, wincing with each step. I glance down at her hip. The exposed flesh is jagged, dripping, and dirty from her fall. She works through the pain admirably.
