Chapter 8: The Voice Belonged to a Man.
The voice belonged to a man. An emaciated figure who looked like he could keel over at any moment lay sprawled on the ground, trembling violently. He didn't seem to be from Skadi's village. No one would starve in just a few days unless all their food had rotted away completely. That meant he was a total stranger.
To avoid startling him, Wendigo revealed himself slowly.
"Uh, u-uh?"
The man's eyes darted wildly as he stared at Wendigo, trembling. He couldn't wrap his head around the situation. A massive spear had pierced straight through a deer, and now a monster twice his size lumbered toward him. The chill permeating the air made his teeth chatter as he looked up at Wendigo.
Am I... gonna die?
Losing all sense of reality, the man gawked blankly at Wendigo. Caught off guard by the idiotic expression, Wendigo blinked. He'd expected screams or an attack—not this vacant, broken stare.
After eyeing the man for a moment, Wendigo decided to take the initiative.
"Who are you—"
"Hiiik!!!"
The moment he spoke, the man's face drained of color, and he passed out cold. He'd mistaken Wendigo's attempt at conversation for the prelude to being devoured.
Wendigo stared at the fainted man in disbelief.
Is this guy's head broken?
With a sigh, Wendigo gathered the spear, the deer, and the man. A sniff of the stranger's scent confirmed he wasn't some villain—at least, Wendigo figured he could hear him out first.
"Ugh... gonna get eaten..."
Part of me wants to just leave him.
Seriously tempted to abandon the muttering wretch, Wendigo barely held onto his reason. Leaving him in the forest would mean certain death by wild beasts.
Back at the mansion with his load in tow, Skadi emerged to greet him, sensing his presence. Her gaze landed on the man.
Looking puzzled, she asked Wendigo, "Did you bring that man to eat as well? I'm sorry, but I never learned to offer humans as sacrifices, so I lack the confidence to satisfy you, Wendigo-nim..."
"That's not why I brought him. What do you even think of me?"
Skadi coughed awkwardly. She'd caught a strange note of disappointment in Wendigo's voice.
After staring at her for a beat, Wendigo sighed and set the man down. On second thought, what was Skadi supposed to do? It was the spirits making insane demands that had shaped her reactions.
"He probably passed out from exhaustion after running into me. Once he recovers, I'll hear his story and send him on his way."
"What if he's some weirdo?"
"Then we kill him."
Wendigo answered flatly. He had no intention of taking unnecessary risks. He'd already saved the guy from a death he fully deserved—any funny business after that was just natural selection. If the man walked toward death of his own accord, Wendigo wouldn't stop him. That was his fate to decide.
"Hah!!"
The man—Hegilson—jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. He immediately patted himself down. Arms intact, legs fine, shoulders...
"I'm... all in one piece...?"
"You're awake."
Hegilson whipped his head toward the unfamiliar woman's voice. There stood Skadi, white-haired and red-eyed, eyeing him with a sour expression.
Only then did he realize this wasn't the forest. The faint woody scent of furniture soothed his frayed nerves.
"Wh-where am I? I was in the forest... the forest..."
Memories flooded back, making him shudder. He couldn't forget that monster. Its sheer bulk was terrifying enough, and the bone-chilling cold, but the head—deer-like, glowing with eerie light, staring him down. Those teeth looked sharp enough to rip out his throat in an instant...
"A dream...? Just a dream?"
"What dream? You've finally come to your senses."
"?!"
Hegilson jumped at the voice behind Skadi, his jaw dropping at its source: the monster itself, Wendigo.
Wendigo crouched to enter the room. As he did, Skadi bowed her head and stepped out to fetch stew. Left alone, an awkward silence settled between Wendigo and Hegilson.
Wendigo broke it first.
"For starters, know that I have no intention of harming you. I don't make a habit of eating humans, and tormenting them is even less my style."
"Th-thank you. Um... are you a spirit, sir?"
"Close enough. More importantly, I have questions—answer them. Why were you wandering the forest? As far as I know, there are no human villages nearby."
At Wendigo's blunt question, Hegilson's eyes darted around. He was clearly hiding something, radiating anxiety.
Wendigo read his emotions.
Lots of unease and worry... but a hint of hope, too.
Not starving, then—that much was clear. If it were simple hunger, he'd have scavenged near a village. And there were none around the mansion; Wendigo had confirmed it during his patrols and hunts.
There had to be a reason...
"Wendigo-nim, I've brought the meal."
Skadi returned with two steaming bowls of stew. Venison, onions, and carrots wafted an appetizing aroma.
Gurgle.
Hegilson's stomach growled loudly in response. Mortified, he clutched it, but the rumbling persisted.
"What's your name?"
"H-Hegilson of the Nidhorn tribe. I was a hunter in the village."
"Right, Hegilson of Nidhorn. Eat the stew first and talk after. Looks like you've been starving for a while."
With Wendigo's permission, Hegilson shoveled it down ravenously. Hunger aside, Skadi's stew was exquisite—the venison melted tenderly, onions and carrots soaked in savory broth.
He polished off the bowl in seconds, smacking his lips regretfully. Wendigo offered his own untouched portion.
Hegilson waved it off in panic. Starving or not, he wasn't bold enough to touch a spirit's offering.
"N-no, it's fine! How could I lay hands on food meant for a spirit?!"
"This wouldn't fill me up anyway. I'm not exactly going hungry from skipping a meal. Take it—no need to hold back."
"B-but..."
Overwhelmed by Wendigo's kindness, Hegilson burst into tears. A spirit this benevolent actually existed! Sobbing, he devoured the second bowl.
Wendigo watched, thinking,
Nothing beats a hot meal for a starving man.
Even beasts grew fond if fed. Providing warmth to the famished? Game over. From Hegilson, Wendigo sensed gratitude, awe, and guilt. One bowl had melted his defenses.
Wiping tears from his stew-smeared face, Hegilson spilled his hidden tale, suspicions gone.
When emotions run high and pile up, words come flooding out—natural as breathing. With his guard down, Hegilson poured forth: his family, his happy life, his beautiful lover...
Dull stuff on paper, but Hegilson's storytelling held Wendigo's attention.
"My goodness, what a beautiful love story," Skadi murmured, utterly engrossed.
"Mm, yeah."
Part of it was Skadi's rapt focus; cutting her off would be rude with an audience so enthralled.
He'd have made a fine bard in the cities.
"But then disaster struck the village. Crops rotted, weeds overran everything. Even trying to leave brought beasts out of nowhere to devour us... We couldn't just sit and wait to die."
"So you escaped? Lucky to dodge the beasts."
"Thanks to the villagers. They held them off, ready to die, so a few of us—including me—made it out."
Wendigo pondered. This wasn't normal. Crops failed from frost, damp, pests, or rats. But beasts?
Animals were smart—torches or weapons usually deterred them. Attacks happened from starvation or bloodlust...
"The beasts didn't assault the village itself? If they targeted escapees, they were lurking nearby."
"Yes. They just prowled the edges, blocking anyone from leaving. We knew it then: this was no accident. Probably... a spirit's doing."
Hegilson glanced nervously at Wendigo, fearing offense.
Sensing it, Wendigo chuckled.
Why would he care if they badmouthed spirits? "Trash like that deserves to die."
"Aigoo~! No, sir, I'd never think that!"
"Fine, just finish the story. Realizing it was a spirit, you sought help. That's why you crossed the forest—to find a shaman?"
"Yes. My mother once said a lone shaman lived in these woods, so I came searching..."
Wendigo knew exactly who: the dead one from the mansion. No way to meet him without necromancy.
"Bad news—that shaman's gone. Returned to nature's embrace recently."
"What!? Really?"
"Yeah. But... his successor carries on his legacy."
Hegilson's emotions flipped from despair to hope. Not the exact shaman, but a successor meant one existed! A way to save the village!
"Do you know where she is? I'll be your slave to repay the favor—just let me meet her!"
"Of course I know. She's the shaman contracted to me. Repay the favor, sure—but no slaves. Just the favor. Got it?"
"Thank you! So where—"
Right here. Wendigo beckoned Skadi. As she approached, he patted her shoulder.
"Skadi's the successor. I vouch for her skills."
Proud under Wendigo's praise, Skadi straightened up. Hegilson gaped at her in shock.
He'd pegged her as a servant—turns out, the real deal!
"You're shocked. The hair and eyes throwing you off?"
"N-no! I'm not shallow enough to judge by looks. Just... younger than expected."
Fair—Skadi looked like a pretty girl decked in mystical trinkets, not a shaman.
When Hegilson hesitated despite Wendigo's word, Skadi's eyes sharpened. She drew a dagger, awakening its mysticism—ice bloomed, encasing it in a blade of frost.
Hegilson recoiled from the chill.
"S-sorry! First young shaman I've seen—my mistake!"
"I can overlook ignorance of me, but doubting Wendigo-nim? Unforgivable. Mind yourself."
"Yes, of course!"
Skadi replied icily as Hegilson apologized frantically. He sighed inwardly in relief.
"Skadi and I will handle your village's problem. Payment... think it over later. Won't ask for anything excessive, so relax."
"D-do you need to get involved, sir?"
Hegilson blurted, flustered. He'd hoped for just a shaman—fees were steep enough; a spirit would bankrupt them.
"Rejecting my offer?"
"...Haha. With a spirit's help, what could I fear? I'm grateful!"
He couldn't refuse—Skadi looked ready to skewer him. Rejection took more guts than he'd realized. Praying for their mercy, he could only hope.