The Wendigo's Girl

The fire followed me even after I could no longer see it.

I felt it behind my eyes, a smear of orange that pulsed each time I blinked, painted there by the moment I'd turned my head one last time before the tree line swallowed the village whole. That final glimpse had shown me the roof of my stepfather's house folding inward like a hand closing into a fist, sparks spiraling up into a sky so black and starless it looked like the mouth of something enormous, something patient, waiting to swallow the smoke and the screaming both.

I didn't stop running until my lungs burned worse than the barn had.

Snow came past my knees in places, crusted hard on top from days of bitter cold, and each step broke through that brittle shell to the softer drift beneath, swallowing my boots to the ankle, sometimes higher. I'd stopped feeling my toes an hour ago. Or was it more than an hour? Time had gone strange and slippery since I'd fled, measured now only in how far the glow behind me had faded, in how many times I'd fallen and forced myself back up.

*Cursed girl. Devil's daughter. She brought it to our door.*

The voices chased me through the pines louder than my own footsteps, louder than my…

The trees thinned slightly ahead, revealing a clearing bathed in a ghostly luminescence. Moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating the glistening expanse of snow like a pristine blanket laid over the earth. Mira paused at the edge, her breath a misty vapor that hung in the frigid air, the chill biting through her coat and sending shivers racing along her spine. This place felt different, as if the very essence of the forest had shifted, holding its breath in anticipation of her arrival.

She stepped into the clearing, each footfall muffled by the soft, powdery snow, and gazed around in awe. Shadows danced around the edges, twisting and turning as the wind whispered secrets among the trees. With every heartbeat, the oppressive stillness thickened, wrapping around her like a cloak. Here, in this untouched sanctuary, she felt both utterly alone and inexplicably watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a primal instinct warning her of something lurking just beyond the veil of moonlight.

As she moved deeper into the clearing, Mira’s thoughts spiraled back to the village, to the faces that had condemned her, each one etched into her memory like a brand.…

The trees thinned slightly ahead, opening onto what might have been a small clearing, though in the darkness it was hard to tell where the shadows ended and the night began. Mira stepped cautiously, her breath forming delicate clouds in the chill, each exhale a reminder of her fragile existence in a world that seemed determined to swallow her whole. The snow crunched beneath her boots, a sharp sound that echoed unnervingly in the silence, as if the forest itself held its breath, awaiting something inevitable.

Among the towering pines, the moon broke through the clouds, casting silvery light that danced across the frosted ground, illuminating a scene both beautiful and eerie. Frost clung to the branches like a delicate lacework, shimmering under the pale glow, but the beauty felt like a cruel joke in a place where dangers lurked unseen. She could almost hear the whispers of the old stories, tales of the wendigo that haunted these woods, waiting with its insatiable hunger for the unwary.

As Mira stood at the edge of the clearing, a chill wind swept through, carrying with it the scent of pine and something else—something sharper and more metallic that made her heart race. For a…