Wendigo Games

Canada is a big place. Probably still parts of it never been seen by werewolfy eyes. Seemed a good idea at the time, just pick some random patch of national park for wilderness survival practice. Plenty of food, if you don't mind starving for days in between running across something.

I was also intrigued by the rumors of primitives hiding out in these types of forests. Some say their ancestors went feral generations ago and they don't even remember how to shift to human. It would be an interesting experience, killing an alpha and seeing what I could make a pack like that do.

I never did get my own little army of feral playthings. Never even came across any tracks while I was up there. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place, or maybe I was just too late for a rendezvous. For all I know, there could have been a thriving population before Wendigo showed up.

I've been around the block a few times, smelled some weird stuff, but nothing compared to this thing. Wind shifts while I'm out scouting game trails and brings this… rotten meat smell. There was a fleshy tone to it, yeah, but it went deeper than that. Like someone had gangrene on his, well I would say soul, if I believed in that kind of thing. Had no clue what it was, but it was close.

At that point I became better acquainted with my sympathetic nervous system. Hair stood up all the way from the base of my skull to my tail. Poof. Almost started running right there, but when I thought it through it seemed rather pointless. The predatory smell had a woodsy undertone to it, like the thing had sprung out of the grass and leaves and dirt. For all I knew, the forest itself had somehow come to life and developed a taste for fresh meat. I decided to stay put and await further developments.

The crunch of footsteps on snow drifted in from the direction of the scent. That was a relief, knowing whatever it was had to walk instead of just popping into existence out of the air wherever it wanted. I shifted to human and leaned against a tree, all casual-like.

Not sure exactly what I expected. Something big and hairy, like Sasquatch. Some kind of plant hybrid thingamabob with vine tentacles, maybe. A scrawny, half-starved creature that could easily pass for human was not high on my "physical forms for the scent of death incarnate" list.

He came out from behind a clump of trees walking on the balls of his feet with his arms bent and clawed hands dangling in front of his chest. Reminded me of some of those special-minded kids you meet sometimes who haven't been in the game very long. You know the type. Think that walking in a funny way or acting wolfy in everyday situations somehow makes them cool. Subtle as a kick in the bits. This guy though, this guy owned it. Every step was smooth and graceful, like he was prepared at any moment to throw himself at you with ridiculous speed.

He was also more comfortable with nature than we can ever hope to be, if his buck-naked state was any indication. I may not be too bothered with the cold, but even I have my limits when out of fur. It's awfully convenient to be able to shuttle your personal effects to some kind of alternate dimension or wherever it goes when you need to shift to wolf. Still wish I could figure out how we do that. Would make for a great storage space for less permanent dwelling-minded folks such as myself.

Anyway, he stopped about twenty feet or so away and just kind of gave me this idiot grin. His canine teeth were longer than mine. I didn't budge, just kept staring him down like I ran into his kind all the time and was bored of it. I was still trying to decide if I thought he was spawned out of the forest itself or some kind of human hybrid when he opened his mouth and made the guesswork a little easier.

He said, "Hello loup-garou. You run, or fight?"

The thick French accent was just the right touch to make this situation truly surreal. Somehow, it made me even more determined not to let him kill me. That would just be humiliating. Fortunately he could talk, and if he could talk he could be distracted. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, "Loogie what?"

He pressed a finger to his head and said, "Loup-garou. What he calls you."

I struggled to analyze all the curveballs he was throwing at me. Apparently he was suffering from multiple personalities as well as being an abomination of nature. I took a few steps toward him, made grand gestures with my hands, and said, "Is that French? Can you stick to English, please? We don't speak French where I come from."

He tilted his head to the side and said, "What is English word?"

I rested my hands on my hips, looped my fingers into my belt, and said, "I believe the word you're looking for is werewolf. See, doesn't that sound better?"

He wrinkled his brow and repeated the word a few times. I slid a throwing knife out of the pouch on my belt and hurtled it at his chest. Ordinarily at this distance my aim is dead-on, but his reflexes got the better of me. No, he didn't step out of the way; he grabbed the knife out of the air before it could hit him. Got it by the blade end, gave himself a nice, deep laceration. I give each knife a coating of a neurotoxin strong enough to leave a werewolf paralyzed for an hour, and what did it do to him? Squat, that's what.

He pulled the knife from his palm, smiled, and held his hand out. It healed right up, just like those special effects werewolf movies humans make where we have ridiculous regeneration powers. "You are funny," he said, with a new tone of smugness that made his stupid accent even more unbearable. "Play first, then eat."

As a connoisseur of cannibal cuisine, the irony was not lost on me. I held my hands up and said, "Sorry about that! Bit of a misunderstanding, I think. I should have warned you before staring that game. You seem like an interesting guy, and I would love to play with you, Mr., uh…"

He tossed the knife over his shoulder, placed a hand over his heart, and said, "I am Wendigo."

Can't say the word rang any bells. With no references to draw from I just had to keep winging it. I crossed the rest of the distance between us, grabbed his hand, and gave it a hearty shake. He cocked his head again, smiled absent-mindedly, and just kept letting me shake his cold, dead fish of a hand. I said, "That's great. You can call me Mr. Sombra. So, what kind of games do you like?"

His face split with a grin wide and sharp enough to give anyone shifted to wolf a run for his money. He said, "You change. I take whiskers!"

I said, "Uh…"

And then he shoved me on my back. I was up and shifted to wolf in moments, but he wasn't going to give me any time to prepare. I felt his grubby little fingers close on a whisker. Poink! That stung like hell. I tried to wrap my jaws around his hand but he had already monkey-jumped out of the way. He bounced around me in circles like a kid who got in the sugar jar while mom wasn't looking. This was getting more degrading by the second, but I just had to keep him entertained until I could think of a Plan B.

Ideas ran through my head and were discarded almost immediately. What kind of weaknesses would an abomination that can't be cut or poisoned have to exploit? I was running out of time, and whiskers. Suddenly, I remembered something I had brought with me to impress any primitives I came across. Wendigo seemed to have a primitive mind. Maybe it was more like some form of mental retardation, but the effect could be the same either way. It was worth a try.

He must have gotten tired of giving my muzzle a Brazilian, because next thing I knew I felt his hands around my tail. I may have lost my cool a bit. There are some places you just don't grab a guy. I swung around to inform him with my teeth and found I had played right into his juvenile scheme. He socked me in the mouth so hard my nose leather split down the middle. At least he had the decency to let go of my tail so the momentum didn't snap it off in his hand.

I pride myself in being a master of the quick change. Pushing through the pain of a busted nose and a landing like that isn't easy, but I shifted back to human and palmed the lighter in my pocket before he reached me. It was his fault I got to it, really, for hitting me so far. I didn't get on my feet though before he had me by the collar of my coat and hoisted me off the ground. I must have weighed twice what he did, maybe even more, and he did it single-handed like it was nothing. The dopy grin he flashed up at me had a hint of drool forming in it. I flicked the cap off the lighter and shoved it in his face.

Never did hear a sound like that before. Closest I can compare it to is the noise my werejaguar friend made when I bit his tail off. He dropped me, jumped back a good ten feet or so, and shook his head furiously. I stood and kept the lighter open. I shrugged, and said, "I don't think I like your games very much. Want to play some of mine?"

His attention was fixed on the small flame in my hand. I moved it experimentally, and his eyes followed it. I took a step forward. He backed away, gave me a good look at those pearly whites, and went, "Hssssss!"

I nearly busted a gut laughing, but that would have been breaking character. I waved my hand around, wishing it was darker so it would have a more dramatic effect, and said, "Come on, it's only fair. You mess my face up, I mess yours up. Fun, right? I know all kinds of fun games we can play with my magic fire."

He growled. I advanced toward him again, and said, "We'll play a traditional werewolf game. I'll make the magic fire bigger, and we can see who can let it burn them the longest. Toughest guy wins. What do you say?"

He turned and sprinted into the trees. I watched him disappear with mixed feelings. Forget a pack of ferals, that would have made for an interesting challenge. I doubt he could be tamed, though.

I shook myself out of contemplation and backtracked to speed my return to civilization. I wasn't about to give Wendigo any chance to overcome his fear of fire and track me down. This outing had indeed been educational. I had learned that wilderness survival practice wasn't really all it was cracked up to be, and that I ought to stay in the cities where things made sense and I was the only guy around who ate people.