The hunters and I have gone out in search of food to bring back to the village. The game has been much more scarce than in recent years. The Chief and the Medicine Man do not know of the reason of why such things are happening, only that we must search farther afield.

Our paths spread wider and wider. The moon chasing the sun many times as the distance grew. At times, small game would leave trails for us to follow, but nothing would come of it.

It wasn't until the moon rose for the eighteenth time that it all began. At first it was the sounds of movement in the brush. Other times it was the sound of another of our party calling out to the one on watch though the source of the voice slept not feet away.

We decided none would be alone. On watch we were in pairs. While we hunted none strayed further than what was safe to shoot bow or throw spear. The forest was no longer our home and we were afraid.

We did not know what was stalking us as we traveled the lands. It was not until the youngest of us, Sëtśuwã spoke from the fire one night.

"I have heard tale of the Windigo. Told to me by the Medicine Man. Told me it is an evil spirit that can steal your voice and feasts on flesh. With the strength to rip a man from his limbs."

The others laughed of wives tales. Things to scare the women folk and small children who misbehaved. I did not laugh. I felt truth. But it was he who was first to die. By morning his body was not found. He was young. But wise.

The next night we stood closer watch. Our thoughts of the hunt long forgotten. We were the prey now. It got Aúgònì next calling to him using Sëtśuwã's voice to call for help.

A blur lifted him into the trees with ease and we knew we were next. One by one we were picked off. Arrow and spear were used to defend us without success. One died from the loss of his head. Removed with a single clawed hand without a care or hurry.

By the end of our trip only I survived. Well my voice did. I am sorry I distracted you.

Now you are dead too.