The Unwanted Wendigo [ManxMan]

Chapter Twelve: Guilty of Being Innocent

~Chapter Twelve: Guilty of Being Innocent~

The soft pad of bare feet on concrete makes me look up as someone stops at the mouth of the alleyway, framed by the brighter lights of the street. "Wendy the Wendigo?" They ask.

Though I know just from the chosen form of address that the person standing in the alley entrance is not a wendigo, I still freeze momentarily as I try to place who the person is. Or, well, who the Mer is, as it becomes pretty clear in a matter of seconds that this is no land dweller. The very fact that they are barefoot and wearing actual armor - as light and form-fitting as it is - kind of gives it away the moment one looks past the honest-to-gods spear in her hand.

Mer really don't know how to blend in, huh?

Considering the fact that I dress like a wendigo straight from the storybooks, though, I am not sure I have room to talk. After all, the mask I wear is pretty noticeable, and I was thinking of throwing it away only seconds ago for that very reason. At least I'm not still wearing my furs, though, or I'd stand out more than I already do. "Yeah?"

"Marquis Valentin is concerned because you have yet to check in with him, so my team and I came to check on the progress of your hunt," the Mer soldier says, and while that formal tone would normally make me want to taunt her into losing that formallity, I think I have more important things to worry about.

Such as the fact that my ticket out of this wendigo trap just landed in my lap.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" I muse, and I realize as I am saying it that it could actually be taken literally. My eyes feel sore - my whole body feels sore - and just the sight of her is enough to make me feel better, if for nothing more than the fact that I know I will soon be somewhere safe enough to sleep. "The hunter has become the hunted, I'm afraid, so if you could help me get out of here, I'd be much obliged."

To her credit, she immediately sets her shoulders and looks around warily. "Who's hunting you?" She asks, getting right to the point without asking for all the specifics of how it happened.

At least she knows how to prioritize.

"White hair, red eyes, and not afraid to walk around a city at night without pepper spray. They're some very hungry hippos with a taste for human flesh and the desire for company, willing or not," I reply.

Though I can practically see some of what I am saying fly right over her head, she understands enough of it to nod and say, "I've seen one then, just a few blocks from here. How many?"

"Three, but more could join at any time," I inform her, since it is true that all it would take is word getting out for any other nearby wendigo to flock here. That is, if there are any actually close enough, but I am not taking the risk of dismissing the chance, even if it probably is pretty low.

Wendigo aren't like a Were pack; we're usually solitary and very territorial.

I receive another short nod from the Mer before she beckons me closer to her. "My team will meet us in the water or along the way, should we encounter them sooner," she says, and then leads the way out of the alley, all the while keeping a close watch on the mostly-empty street. There's a homeless person with a shopping cart across the road, and a man smoking on his balcony a few stories up in an apartment building, but there is no sign of any wendigo other than myself.

Moving swiftly, we retreat from the center of the city towards the water. Surprisingly, even by the time I can hear the waves, we encounter not a single possible threat other than a couple humans heading off to an early work shift and a Were out for a jog, who gives us weird looks as he runs by. If he has never seen a Mer soldier and a wendigo playing super secret agent before, he clearly needs to get outside more.