Wendell was dead.
The blood staining the villagers' hands and feet was undoubtedly proof as it seeped into their clothes and dripped onto the snow, staining it red.
Consumed by their anger, the villagers believed him to be the cause of their misfortune and lashed out. And now, the man who had led them for several years laid motionless on the ground in front of them.
Yet, something was off.
Something shifted in the villagers after that.
Whether it was their eyes or the way they moved, something in them changed that day.
"We did it!"
"Finally! With that demon gone, we'll finally be able to escape from this hell!"
"We'll finally have something to eat."
As if possessed, they grabbed their leader's dead body. And slowly, methodically, with the precision of someone who had done this before, they ate him.
Like ravenous wolves, they descended on his body and tore him apart. Skin from flesh; flesh from bone. Blood stained their faces and clothes as they ate until even the bones were picked clean.
Even the crows, who would often linger around to scavenge for any food, kept their distance, sensing that what they were witnessing wasn't normal.
Wasn't human.
Their animalistic actions didn't last for long, however. After some time, they acted as if nothing had even happened at all and refused to acknowledge what they'd just done.
Instead, they could think only about the elk Wendell had talked about, and the villagers began to walk in the direction he had come from.
It was a macabre procession with the villagers lined up one by one. Some villagers lost their shoes and, as a result, footprints stained red left marks on the snow.
While most might initially think that it took the villagers the same five days to find the elk, that was not the case.
It was as if the magic that allowed Wendell to take only a few minutes to arrive back at the campsite remained in the air.
Because not long after the procession began, they arrived at the same clearing with the herd of elk.
"Are these the elk Wendell talked about?"
"So he wasn't lying. But there's more than five here."
"He must have wanted to hold a monopoly over the herd and use them against us!"
Despite the "meal" they had earlier, it wasn't enough. They wanted more.
They needed more.
Surprisingly, it was easy enough to approach the elk. Whether it was because they were naturally docile or just naïve didn't help them.
The villagers, in their hunger, used anything they had on hand. Knives, swords, and arrows to bring the herd down.
By the time they were finished, the herd dropped from over thirty elk to a mere six, with the only survivors being the calves who somehow managed to flee amid the massacre.
Elated because of their good fortune, the villagers held a celebration and greedily ate the elk. With Wendell now dead, they believed their luck had turned around for the better and that it would only be a matter of time before they found a new place to call home.
"Ahh! That was a good meal. To think that we would've had to wait nearly a whole week before we could get a chance to eat!"
"Exactly! I bet that demon was also lying about the mysterious figure, too!"
They would, however, find out they were sorely wrong.
Indulging in the belief that Wendell's story about the mysterious figure was nothing but a fantasy, they covered up their shame. And in the end, made the excuse that he was trying to hoard the elk and keep them all for himself so he could eat as much as he wanted.
As the five days came and went, they convinced themselves that they were right, as there was no sign of the mysterious cloaked figure.
Night turned to day, and as the sun began to rise, a sudden change began to occur.
No one could figure out what it was. However, the adults in the group couldn't help anxiously glancing around every so often, and even the children's mood had changed, with them going from playing to now keeping close to their parents.
All of a sudden, the weather turned against them.
The wind became more violent, and the temperature plummeted. Letting out surprised cries, the villagers rushed to shelter from the cold and secure their tents as the harsh winds threatened to rip out the stakes holding them down.
"Fasten the stakes! Make sure we don't lose any supplies!"
"What's going on!? It was clear skies just a moment ago!"
Amidst the chaos, a blinding light appeared, stopping the villagers in their tracks as they looked on at the sight with a mixture of awe and nervousness.
As the light dimmed, the same figure Wendell described stood before them: a white cloak, sharp teeth, and pale skin. However, one of the baby elk stood beside it as the hem of the figure's cloak was stained with blood.
Silence fell throughout the camp as the villagers were unable to look away from the figure. After several minutes, a gust of wind loosened the figure's hood, causing it to fall off, and several gasps could be heard from some of the villagers.
The figure turned out to be a man. A man with long and thin white hair, a gaunt face that looked devoid of food and sleep, coupled with that same pale white skin and sharp jagged teeth that Wendell had described exactly.
But it was those eyes, black as ink or the starless sky, that made them realize the gravity of their mistake.
It wasn't until they saw those eyes that they realized who they stood before.
A member of The Attero
One by one, the villagers collapsed to their knees as they realized, amidst the bones of the elk, what they'd done.
Several long seconds passed before the man finally spoke.
Using his pale, bony finger, the god pointed to the remains of the elk and spoke in a sickly sweet voice that was clearly used to conceal his anger.
"Is this your doing?"
When the villagers heard his words, they were visibly frightened, with some shaking in fear, wondering what might be done to them. So, keeping quiet, only a few who were brave enough nodded their heads while the rest stayed silent.
Gazing at the villagers, the god remained motionless as before, suddenly raising his hand and-
Thud!
Suddenly, the story ends, and we're returned to the present day.
A storyteller, an older man with kind eyes and a graying beard, sits with a group of children and pauses to see where the sudden noise came from.
By the bookshelves, a girl who looks no older than eight stands on a stool, looking unapologetic as the book she dropped disrupted the story. Despite the simple dress she is wearing, the quality of the dress and the bejeweled ribbon in her black curls hint at her noble lineage.
Except for the bone white antlers that rested on top of her head and poked through her curls.
"Everyone knows this story already!" The girl carefully steps down the stool before crossing her arms and looking up at the older man.
As the rest of the children stare at her with wide eyes, a smug grin appears on her face as she gazes at them arrogantly and continues to speak. "The god then curses the villagers for their actions against the elk and Wendell, turning them into monstrous creatures that can only feast on human flesh! He then names them after Wendell and calls them wendigo!"
Pausing as if to add a dramatic effect to her speech, she then walks over to where the storyteller is nervously sitting and stands in front of the group of children.
"However! Over time, the wendigo slowly regained some of their humanity, able to suppress their monstrous form, and now we live in hiding among the people of this world, cursed to never truly be ourselves!"
Ending her dramatic retelling of the story, she spreads her arms, and the smug grin on her face grows wider as the children clap as she ends the story.
The young girl knew the story quite well; she even remembered the mundane facts. Facts such as how the Attero held domain over her home planet, Atera. While their names were mostly forgotten, ruins and old curses lingered everywhere, reminders of the power that once ruled Atera.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, the storyteller smiles at the girl before turning her around to face him. "That was a very nice way to end my story, Horatia. However, despite knowing the story already, don't you think it was rude of you to interrupt?"
Faced with the storyteller's scolding, Horatia's smile falls, and she looks down at the wooden floor of the library with a guilty expression before muttering a reply. "I apologize, Mister Ludwell…"
Faced with her sincere apology, Ludwell affectionately pats her head. "Now, don't get ahead of yourself, alright? You're a very smart girl. So, don't go getting all high and mighty on us.
Hearing Ludwell's reply, Horatia gave him a small smile before nodding vigorously.
Seeing her spirits brighten up, Ludwell motioned to the rest of the children as he looked at her. "It's about time for dinner with Lord Briedis now, isn't it? Say goodbye to everyone and hurry up so you're not late."
Realizing what time it was, Horatia nodded and waved goodbye to the rest of the children before hurrying along, leaving the library.