Mutilated. She could see her body on the ground. It resembled the pile of intestines that a hunter would take out of a deer. Only one arm of a Wendigo had done this to her. How could she see herself she wondered, and why wasn’t she dead. She was quite literally looking at her own corpse. She felt different, airy almost. She looked down, but couldn’t see any sort of legs. Upon looking left and right discovered that she no longer possessed any kind of arms. What had happened?

She started to move over to a nearby pool of water to see her reflection. It didn’t feel like she was walking, it felt like she was floating. As her vision rested upon the pool, she saw a ghostly wisp looking back at her, mirroring her motions perfectly. Could this really be her? Is this what death was like for everyone? Maybe there were others who were still “alive” in a form similar to hers.

Mournfully, she floated her way back towards the burning husk of a village that just a few hours ago was her beautiful home. Making her way between the remnants of huts she saw no other ghostly wisps, only corpses. The fire pit in the centre of the village always seemed alive, people dancing and singing. Oh how she enjoyed the festivals when the hunters came back with food for the winter. Beating drums, flutes medleys, the honey smooth voices of her friends. If the pit had fallen to the Wendigo then the embers that composed the heart of the village would no longer burn. Her village would be gone.

 She flew from house to house, bumping into the fallen timbers of the caved in and burning huts as she got used to her new form. corpse after corpse after corpse, there was no life besides the skeleton like trees that dotted the village. how fitting that it was winter when this beast decided to attack. for hours she searched, but no signs of anyone who was alive, or any other wisps.

If she made it up to the top of the mountain maybe she could survey the area and see if the Wendigo had attacked the neighboring tribes. She started floating up the haphazardly constructed footpaths to the top of the mountain, the home of the Nun’ne’hi. Immortal spirit people who watched over the forest and everyone who live in it. She had never seen a Nun’ne’hi before, but all the elders spoke of seeing one at some time in their lives. Etherial ghostly blue figures walking the rocky top of the mountain. Oh how she longed to see one. 

In the early hours of the morning the sun glittered off the pale white dusting of snow that covered the exposed grass and rock as she got close to the top. She came to one of the many rocky outlooks close to the top and gazed out at the beautiful mountains. Her home, maybe eternally now, but she wouldn’t mind that. She continued floating up towards the top of the mountain, it was a beautiful morning. She wished she could feel the cold breeze on her skin, but it would seem that she had lost the ability to feel.

She reached the final outcropping, and gazed out over her home. A faint plume of smoke still rising from the direction of her village. She could hear the Wendigo shriek out from somewhere within the forest, as she surveyed the woods below she could see many other plumes of smoke rising up from above the ghostly leafless treetops. Her people were being wiped out, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Powerless, thats the only word that she could use to describe how she felt.

The leaves behind her rustled, and a chipmunk burst out. Holding onto an acorn it ran across the rock and up into a tree. The first sign of life she had seen since the slaughter. They were annoying creatures, but she was glad to see one for the first time in her life. Something else crossed her vision, a ghostly blue figure made its way out of the trees, and started walking towards her.