The milky white moon glowed solemnly in the black night, the only light in a dark world. Soon the sun would rise and the fields would bask in a frosty golden light. Spring was cold in the mountains.

I sat atop the farmhouse roof, gazing up at the void above me. The moon is friendly. Wendigos tend to shy away from the moonlight, so a friendly face is always welcome. And tonight it is especially welcome, for something terrible had happened.

I had awoken to a silent house. As usual, I dressed and unbolted my door. But the strange thing I first noticed was the absence of the smell of breakfast. Mama always made breakfast before I woke up. I thought maybe she slept in, but when I looked to my left, I saw it.

Blood. Blood and brains everywhere. A mangled arm had fallen in front of the doorway and I stared in horror...