It watched the human camp, silent and unseen.
It watched them cook food, it watched them laugh, it watched them sleep.
The man--the leader of the group, it seemed, smelled of an old filth. The same filth his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather stunk of. The filth of a man who thought he was higher than the ones who were great.
Stalking the camp slowly, quietly, the creature's glowing eyes looked over each and every human that laid around the fire. There were men, women, and children. The Wendigo would leave the children alone, of course, for they had done nothing wrong. The adults had not corrupted them yet.
Stifling a growl, it finally loomed over the evil-smelling man, the beast's own nostrils flaring as it breathed down on the other's face. He snored like his ancestors, too. Loud, annoying, and gross.
In a flash, the Wendigo's sharp hand reached out pulling the man up with it as the creature jumped into a tree nearby, the stinky man waking up from the action. He tried to scream, but the beast was already slitting his throat.
With the body of the man hidden in the tree, the creature descended the plant once again, its eyes raking over the humans sleeping once again. It sniffed, searching for any more stench from a man who would dare put himself above the ones he should protect, but found none.
Satisfied that the filth had been dealt with, the Wendigo silently disappeared into the night, shifting and transforming into a dog once it was far enough in the shadows, returning to its comfortable cave. In the morning, it would check on the camp again, to see how the humans would react. If they would mourn and run away, or try to hunt the beast down.
If they tried to find the Wendigo...they'd be dealt with far worse than the man hanging in the tree.
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