Eyes of the Wendigo

1 -

Elias Conroy stared into the fire, the flames crackling and snapping in the hearth, casting long shadows across the rough-hewn walls of his cabin. His hands, scarred and calloused from years of hunting, wrapped tightly around the handle of a half-empty mug of coffee. He didn't feel the warmth from the fire or the heat from the cup. The chill had settled deep into his bones weeks ago, the kind of cold that no flame could banish. His mind wandered, circling the same thoughts that had haunted him since Rob's body was found.

Rob Mercer. Elias couldn't forget the sight of his frozen, contorted form, limbs twisted in ways that didn't make sense, eyes wide open as if he'd seen something that shouldn't have been there. It wasn't just the way Rob had died—it was the way he'd looked, as if the terror had seized him long before the cold ever did.

"Goddamn it, Rob," Elias muttered to the empty room, taking a long drink from the mug. The coffee was bitter and cold, but it gave him something to focus on, something to keep him grounded.

The village had been quieter than usual since Rob's death. White Pines was always quiet in the dead of winter, but now the silence felt different. Tense. Watchful. Like the forest itself was holding its breath. The people who once gathered in the evenings to trade stories or share meals had started staying inside, doors locked tight, fires burning low. The stories of the Wendigo had begun to spread like wildfire, whispered in hushed voices in darkened rooms.

Elias didn't believe in the Wendigo. He'd grown up on those tales, like everyone else in White Pines, but he knew better. The Wendigo was a legend, a story to scare children, a warning about the dangers of greed and isolation. It wasn't real. But something was out there, and it wasn't just the cold.

A knock at the door pulled Elias from his thoughts. He set the mug down, the ceramic clinking against the table, and rose from his chair. His body felt heavy, weighed down by the endless days of worry and the sleepless nights. When he opened the door, the blast of cold air hit him in the face, but he barely flinched. He was used to it by now.

It was Pete Langford, one of the younger hunters in the village, bundled up against the cold. His face was flushed from the wind, and his breath came out in quick, foggy puffs.

"Elias," Pete said, nodding a greeting. His voice was tense, his eyes darting toward the woods that surrounded the cabin. "The council's called a meeting. You should come."

Elias glanced over Pete's shoulder, toward the trees that loomed dark and ominous at the edge of the clearing. The forest had always been his ally, a place where he felt comfortable, in control. Now, it felt different—like something was waiting out there. Watching.

"Another one gone?" Elias asked, though he already knew the answer. The rumors had reached his ears before the body had been found. A second disappearance. A man named Roy Briggs, one of the trappers, had gone out to check his lines and hadn't returned. Just like Rob.

Pete nodded, his jaw tight. "Found his sled near the old mill. No sign of him, though. Just like Rob."

Elias cursed under his breath. He had known Roy for years, hunted with him a few times in their younger days. He wasn't the type to wander off or get lost easily. Something was taking the men—whether it was wolves, the cold, or something else entirely. But the village didn't care what it was anymore. Fear had already taken root, and once fear started growing, it was impossible to pull out by the roots.

"I'll be there," Elias said, pulling on his heavy wool coat and grabbing his rifle from where it leaned against the doorframe. He wasn't expecting trouble at the council meeting, but these days, he didn't go anywhere unarmed.

The two men walked in silence through the snow, their boots crunching underfoot. The village center wasn't far—just a short walk from Elias' cabin—but the journey felt longer tonight, the wind howling through the trees like a living thing. Pete glanced around nervously, his eyes scanning the treeline as if expecting something to lunge from the shadows at any moment. Elias didn't say anything, but he couldn't shake the feeling either. Something was wrong.