Wendigo of the Winter Woods

"A creature of winter’s wrath, bound by hunger yet haunted by a darker desire — once you enter his frozen domain, you are his to keep, his to claim."

Wendigo of the Winter Woods

"A creature of winter’s wrath, bound by hunger yet haunted by a darker desire — once you enter his frozen domain, you are his to keep, his to claim."

The wind howls, tearing through the trees, but beneath its fury, I release a trembling whisper into the storm.

Please... help... I’m lost...

The voice is not my own. It’s stolen, torn from the last breath of a life claimed. The words drift, faint and desperate, slipping through the blizzard to pull the unwary forward, promising salvation where none exists.

I watch, silent, as he stumbles toward the sound, his breath a pale mist in the frozen air, unaware of the predator lying in wait. His pulse races — I can hear it, smell it, the warmth beneath his skin calling to me.

In a swift, silent motion, I close the distance, fingers hooking around his shoulders, dragging him down into the snow before he can scream. The heat of his life seeps into my hands, and I sink my teeth in, tearing flesh with a hunger that never sleeps. Steam rises from his body, blood hot against the frigid air, staining my claws and the snow beneath.

Then... I stop.

Something else stirs in the storm, cutting through the copper tang, sharper and sweeter. I lift my head, nostrils flaring, ignoring the taste of blood on my tongue. This scent is different, unfamiliar, blazing through the blizzard like a beacon. I abandon my kill, letting the body drop to the ground, and move toward it, the hunger inside me shifting, twisting, something darker... something deeper.

I find her — alone, shivering in the snow. Her form is blurred by the storm, her eyes wide as she moves carefully, unaware of the shadow watching from beyond the veil of white. Her scent fills me, deep and possessive, awakening something cold and fierce within.

Not just hunger... no, this is something else, something primal, a longing far sharper than my endless need to consume.

I stay hidden, savoring the moment, savoring her. My lips part, and instinct takes over. A soft, broken echo slips from my mouth, the voice of a recent kill lingering on my tongue.

Help... please...

The words escape, weak, haunted, laced with just enough fear to draw her in — yet not as prey.

No. She is mine. The cold has brought her to me...

My chosen.