Is That Really Enough?
"…Is that really enough? Really?"
"Yeah."
"Not delicious food or rare herbs, not even a statue carved in your likeness—just that is enough?"
"If you're the one paying, shouldn't you be thrilled at such a light demand? I said it's enough."
Wendigo replied with obvious annoyance.
He hadn't asked for information as payment because he undervalued his own deeds. Killing people was never lighter than a few words.
Of course, if he had his way, he'd prefer something useful... but
'Honestly, squeezing valuables out of a girl who has nothing feels a bit much.'
To him, Skadi was flat broke. Though he'd become a monster, he wasn't stingy enough to wring possessions from some pitiful(?) soul.
Wendigo had chosen his demand with some consideration for her position, but the problem lay with Skadi.
'Is this okay?? He's a spirit, after all. Paying so little... but Lord Wendigo says it's enough...'
Any other shaman might have cheered inwardly and plotted to screw Wendigo over, but Skadi was different from those fools.
Her mother had become a renowned shaman precisely because she offered spirits generous tributes without ever skimping or playing games.
Skadi's mother never haggled with spirits. They were petty, arrogant, and capricious—if their mood soured, they'd never help again.
Thus, Skadi wanted to pay spirits fairly. Especially a strong, kind(?) one like Wendigo!
"My mother always said we must repay any grace from a spirit. Not just what you've asked, Lord Wendigo, but if the chance arises, I'll repay your kindness properly."
"Yeah, yeah. Handle that however you want."
Wendigo considered dissuading her again but gave up. Her resolve felt too ironclad.
Better to change the subject. At this rate, she'd probably sacrifice something drastic.
"We'll talk while we move. Where's the village you lived in?"
"My village? Why do you ask…?"
Skadi voiced her doubt. They hadn't known each other long, but Wendigo seemed to avoid people.
A village was crawling with them. What other place teemed with humans like that?
Her question was valid, but Wendigo had no choice.
Naturally, he wanted nothing to do with people. If he could even talk to them, maybe—but most would flee at his appearance alone.
He sought the village purely for Skadi's sake. Unlike him, she was human, and humans needed more than he did.
Food mattered, water too, and without proper tools, even basics were tough. Clothes as well...
'Come to think of it, I need some too.'
He'd forgotten amid his fur and hide, but Wendigo was naked. His junk swinging freely was distracting.
Being a monster spared him the full shame, but the emptiness still nagged. This was a chance to score some garb.
"You said you fled without grabbing anything, so let's swing by for your stuff. I'll escort you there. Just say I'm a spirit or evil ghost you command... and grab something I can wear."
"!"
Skadi was stunned—he hadn't seemed the type to care this much. This spirit was different, so very different from any she'd known. Gentle, even!
'The cabin might have something Lord Wendigo would like!'
'A few big hides would do the trick.'
The payer's eagerness and the receiver's nonchalance clashed spectacularly. The world was full of such mysteries.
The trek to the village was quite far. Wendigo newly realized how desperately Skadi must have run for her life.
She'd surely felt mortal peril. And yet...
'She doesn't look remotely down about it.'
"Spirits and evil ghosts aren't that different, really. If they can talk to people, we call them spirits; if not, evil ghosts. Even some labeled evil ghosts can converse. And..."
Skadi, the very subject, chattered away, eagerly sharing knowledge with Wendigo.
To an outsider, it might look like a casual forest stroll.
No one keeps a light heart after cheating death. Skadi's quick recovery had layers.
For one, this wasn't her first brush with death. Her mother had shielded her as best she could, but one person couldn't block all malice.
From childhood, Skadi had faced attempts in every vile form: venomous snakes slipped into her sleep, poisoned fruit disguised as kindness, horses driven at her like "accidents"...
Human malice was vicious. They'd casually push her to death just for being different.
Yet she'd survived every threat. Incredible luck—and cursed misfortune.
It toughened her; threats no longer broke her will easily. Facing the bear, surrounded by foes with no escape, she'd surrendered—but her resolve was rope-tough, woven from sinew.
And... she had faith.
She glanced at Wendigo mid-chatter. Gazing at him brought inexplicable calm.
Yes—her faith was in Wendigo. Belief that no matter the foe, he'd protect her.
'Lord Wendigo promised to guard me, so I'll be safe no matter what!'
Delusion. If danger