Home » Mind & Soul » Mysterious Creatures » Windigo

Windigo

© Florence U. Cardinal

Claude Dubois hung the fresh-killed deer carcass from a tree. He blew on his numb fingers. God, it was cold. Above his head, the aurora splashed a swash of vivid color across the dark sky. The icy wind off frozen Mooswa lake burned his face like fire.

It was an eerie night, a night when Spirits walked the frozen wasteland. Claude sniffed the air. An acrid aroma rode the wind. Windigo! And not far away. He scooped up his rifle and fled into his tent.

He stood for a moment and listened to the supernatural silence. No wolf howl rent the air. The coyotes had ceased their stridentyipping. The owls sat voiceless in the forest. Claude shivered. All nature froze when Windigo walked.

He tossed another log on the fire. The flames crackled. The old stew pot began to steam. Venison stew was always good on a cold night, especially with onions. Claude sat cross-legged before the fire. The strong aroma of onions masked the smell of the Windigo. The smoke painted flickering shadows on the tent walls as it rose and escaped through the smoke hole.

An hour later he finished his third bowl of stew. The warm liquid and full belly relaxed him. Maybe he could sleep now.

The crunch of snow outside his tent brought Claude to his feet. Windigo! He grabbed his rifle.

"Is that you in there, Claude Dubois?"

Claude knew that raspy voice. Pete Crooked Knee. At one time they had been as close as brothers, but they had grown apart when Pete married.

"Claude! Let me in. It's a strange night. I'm scared, me."

Claude lifted the tent flap. The stench of Windigo was strong on the wind. He pulled Pete into the tent and lowered the flap.

Pete sniffed the air now. "I smell much good stew. I am hungry. You will share, yes?"

Claude ladled out a bowl of stew. "You don't look well, old friend," he said. "The frost got into your face, eh? And you need to eat more. I can see your bones through your flesh."

Pete wolfed down what was left of the stew and moved nearer to the fire. "Seems I'm always cold these days. And hungry. Thank you for the supper."

"And now we will sleep." Claude pulled an extra blanket from his bed roll.

"You sleep. I must go."

"No! Don't go. Windigo walks the hills. It isn't safe."

Pete laughed, and his laughter was tinged with madness. The flames from the fire reflected in his eyes.

The copyright of the article Windigo in Mysterious Creatures is owned by Florence U. Cardinal. Permission to republish Windigo in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.