There is an indigenous legend
That the hunger for flesh of man
Can drive a spirit to madness
A being in the dark so wretched
He lingers on the edge of sanity
The morning sun causes it to vanish
The Wendigo hungers
Can only be fed by human flesh
For his soul is empty, and famished
Night is dangerous and the danger lingers
The weak fall victim, eaten until death
“And it was in that moment of distress and confusion that the whip of terror laid its most nicely calculated lash about his heart.”
