text: Her phone buzzed beside her on the cot. Dash’s ears perked up at the sound. Just let us know if you need anything, the green bubble on the screen read. Shea gingerly went to her window, peering out into the darkness. Snow was falling mutely around her one-room cabin. Her faithful German Shepherd immediately came to her side, pressing his wet nose against the glass. A deep rumble building in his chest. “It’s okay Dash,” She put her hand on his head to calm her dog, still staring out into the night. Silence. Dash gave a reluctant boof and retreated from the window, curling up on the mat in front of the crackling fireplace. Shea watched the firelight dance off his black fur for a moment, his eyelids drooping - the epitome of cozy - then went to her kitchenette to make some tea. She turned the knob on her propane stove click click click click and lit the burner with a wooden match chkk chkk chffffff The flames licked the bottom of the cast iron kettle, and soon enough the pot whistled in distress. A mournful howl escaped from Dash in harmony with the teapot. Shea chuckled and removed the kettle from the stove, but Dash continued to howl. As she poured the hot water into her prepared mug on the counter, she urged Dash to quiet: “Hush Dash, that’s enough boy,” she chastised over her shoulder. Just then, his nose poked her thigh, and she looked down into his big, brown eyes. The howling continued. It wasn’t Dash. She set down the kettle and hurried to the window again, dog at her heels. Low, fateful sounds filled the air around the small cabin in the woods, transuding their way through the cracks and crevices, invading the room and bodies within. Dash’s hackles raised in challenge, but small whimpers betrayed him. Shea quickly turned down the lanterns and smothered the fire as best she could. It did not take long for the room to cool - she could see her breath in front of her as she hunkered onto her cot, the springs squeaking in protest, reaching for her phone once again. Her heart sank. No service. Dash huddled beside her, giving her warmth, his eyes trained on the door. Abruptly, the howling stopped. “Okay boy, we gotta go.” Shea haphazardly bundled up, yanking on her boots and winter gear, and grabbing the axe that was leaning against the wood piled in the corner. She stuffed her phone deep into her coat pocket, raised the wooden latch, and opened the front door. The cold cut into the skin of her face; Shea buckled as Dash bounded in front of her and raced into the night. “No Dash!” But his sleek, black body disappeared into the trees. The snow was deep and unforgiving. She trudged forward to the tree line, hoping to hear or see her dog. She knew she had to get to town, but she wasn’t leaving without Dash. “You stupid dog, you’ll be the death of me.” She muttered under her breath, eyes straining through the forest. She looked longingly back towards the lights of the community in the distance, sighed in defeat and entered the trees. She could just barely make out his trail zig-zagging between the pines. She waded along through the snow, following her dog’s frenzied route. Her breath came fast, and soon she was sweating beneath her layers despite the 30 below temperature. She paused briefly leaning the axe against the nearest trunk, removing her hat and unzipping her coat half-way. The strands of her long, dark hair quickly froze to her cheeks and lips. And then a howl. Ooooooooooooo.... Ominous, desperate ... and near. Wolves were common in these parts, this she knew. An Elder once told her that a human only sees a wolf when the wolf wants to be seen. This memory settled in her chest as she replaced her hat and moved forward. Wolves were taken as a given around here, but rarely did they bother with the people. Sometimes the odd dog would go missing when a wolf became particularly brave and hungry, but other than that, they all seemed to live in respectful harmony among one another. No, Shea wasn’t afraid of wolves. Wolves would not make her leave the warmth of her cabin at 2am on a long winter night with just an axe in ha- “Fuck!” She whipped around. She had left her axe against the tree when she had stopped. The trail was easier going back since she had already broken it. She glanced at each trunk as she retraced her steps, knowing she hadn’t travelled very far from her weapon. But she couldn’t locate her axe. She was sure she placed it against a tree... perhaps it fell over and was buried in the snow. She began kicking the snow around each tree trunk, frantically trying to uncover it. She halted as the hair on her neck raised. Ooooooooooooooooooooo..... She felt the sound reverberate through her bones. Every cell of her body winced and retracted from the world. Then Shea heard it from behind: running at full speed towards her through the heavy snow. She whipped around just in time for the beast to hit her solidly in the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. “DASH!” She screamed in relief as the dog licked her face, panting and whining frantically. “Come on, you idiot. Let’s go, let’s go!” She grabbed him by the scruff and launched him in the right direction. Dash plodded on ahead, nose to the ground. Shea followed swiftly. skritch skritch A noise from her left. Dash, a few yards ahead now, stopped and looked back at Shea, ears pricked. He whined, hesitant. Shea stepped slowly towards her dog, keeping her eyes down, her breath caught in her lungs. skritch skritch Dash’s lips curled back, his teeth illuminated in the darkness. A low, steady growl erupted from him. Every muscle of his canine body was rigid as he stared into the trees. thud thud skritch thud thud skritch Someone, or something, heavy was moving over the snow very close to where Shea and her dog stood. Shea kept moving forward slowly, trying not to make a sound, gesturing to Dash to keep going. But her dog would not break focus from the trees beyond her. His growl grew deeper. thud thud skritch She finally reached where Dash was rooted, gently nudging him with her mitted hand on his neck, but he would not budge. Only stared and growled. thud thud skritch She moved past him, desperately scanning the forest ahead for her cabin. She took a few more steps... and the growling stopped. Shea slowly turned to look, but her dog was gone. Only white snow where he had stood moments earlier. Silence. Shea bolted. Bolted between the pines, all direction abandoned. Her legs and lungs burned, her heart screamed in her chest. Branches tore through her hair, ripped the skin on her face, and the scent of blood filled her nostrils. Her boot met something solid beneath the snow, tripping her. The earth raced up to meet her, and she struggled to push herself back up as her hands and arms were swallowed by the snow. Her fingertips brushed something hard beneath the snow as she fought: the axe. She had tripped over her fucking axe! Grasping the butt and using it as a crutch, Shea launched herself back on her feet. Clutching her weapon with both hands in front of her chest, she marched forward, but something to her right caught her eye. A dark shape in the snow about twenty feet from her. It was Dash. “Oh my god, Dash! Come here boy, come on!” Shea rushed to her dog in relief. But Dash wasn’t moving... he was curled up, much like he had been in front of the fire a lifetime ago. “Dash?” Shea set down her axe and moved around to his head. His big, brown eyes stared up at her, catching the light from the moon. She reached down to pet his head...and it rolled to the side, detached from the rest of him. Both hands flew up to cover her mouth as Shea choked on her scream. There was no blood. She knew this handywork. She also knew trap when she saw one...or was in one. thud thud skritch Shea brought her hands shakily to her sides, breathed a goodbye to her comrade, and turned to meet her caller. It squatted on furry haunches not ten feet from her, frostbitten knees pulled up to its chest. It’s desiccated skin pulled tightly over its bones, its ash complexion the color of death. Sinewy muscles rippled over its shoulders and gangly arms, hanging from them two monstrous, yet undeniably human, hands. Before her eyes reached its face, she could smell him: like sulphur and rotting meat. Her eyes travelled to its head, where its silver eyes were pushed deep into the sockets, over a sunken and deteriorated nose. Whatever lips remained were tattered and spoiled, spread loosely over rows of sharp, decaying teeth. Even in his hunched state, the Wendigo was easily seven feet tall. Shea could feel her flesh crawling, knowing he could smell it. He stared at her, enormous hands on his knees, head tilted, unmoving. Unbreathing. Its mouth slowly turned up at the corners...a smile? A few kilometers away, an Elder sat on his porch at the edge of the community, alerted by screams singing over the treetops. *** A few of the locals would find her clothes hours later, in the safety of the early morning light, her phone still in the pocket of her coat. Their shoulders sagged with solemn relief. The cabin would be marked as For Sale once again, for a very low price, knowing feeding time will be upon them soon enough.