Wendigo

Hahaha!

A childish giggle broke the silence.

The hunter stiffened.

Cloaked in darkness, hidden beneath a towering pine, he had waited motionless for hours, his breath slow, his rifle steady. A trophy buck in his sight.

But now, he wasn’t alone.

“Where are you, Daddy? Hahaha!” The voice was soft, playful, floating through the trees.

The hunter’s grip tightened. He peered through his scope, scanning the darkness as his prize fled. A few minutes passed. The forest was still. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound, but then the voice.

“Hahaha! I see you, Daddy!”

The giggle came from beyond the tree line. No child belonged here. Not in the dead of night. Not in the heart of the frozen woods.

The hunter exhaled, slow and controlled. He turned the scope toward the far edge of the clearing. Bushes rustled. A shadow shifted.

Then the voice changed.

“I’m going to get you, Daddy.”

It wasn’t a child anymore. It was a man’s voice, hoarse and snarled, thick with hunger.

The hunter steadied his aim as something moved into view, stumbling, lurching, but too fast, too fluid. A man with hollowed eyes, stretched skin, and gnashing teeth. His limbs were too long, his frame impossibly thin, bones jutting against pale flesh. His mouth lolled open, tongue hanging out like a starving animal.

The hunter pulled the trigger.

The shot rang through the trees.

The thing twisted unnaturally, jerking out of the bullet’s path. It laughed a rasping, guttural sound, wet and hungry.

“Missed me, Daddy! Now I’m going to get you!”

The hunter’s pulse slammed against his ribs. He sprang from his hiding spot, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, and scrambled up the nearest tree. His boots scraped against bark, hands gripping branches as he climbed as high as he could.

The thing reached his camp, standing just below.

And then—

“Help, Daddy! Help me, please!”

The voice was different again. Softer. Weaker. A little girl’s voice, trembling with fear.

Familiar.

The hunter clenched his teeth, shutting his eyes tight.

“Please, Daddy! It hurts!”

He opened his eyes, staring down through the branches. The thing was gone. Instead, a small figure stood below, shivering in the moonlight. A girl, no older than six or seven. Barefoot. Wrapped in tattered clothes.

She looked up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

The hunter hesitated.

“Please…” The girl’s lip quivered. Her voice cracked, broken and raw. “It’s so cold…”

He couldn’t leave her there. He couldn’t fail twice. Not again.

He shifted, his weight causing the branch to creak.

The girl’s head twitched at the sound.

And then she smiled.

The teeth in her mouth weren’t human.

Her lips curled back, stretching wider than they should. Bones cracked as her small body trembled and contorted, stretching taller, thinner, her fingers elongating into claws.

“Come down, Daddy.” The voice no longer held a trace of innocence.

The hunter’s breath came in short, sharp gasps.

The thing tilted its head. It sniffed the air. Then it began to circle the tree, slowly, dragging clawed fingers across the bark.

“Hahaha… don’t stop, Daddy! Keep going!” Come down Daddy!”

The laughter rose again, high and shrill, echoing through the night as the thing continued to prowl, waiting for him to fall.

Waiting for the branch to break.

The wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of ice, of rot, of something ancient and starving.

And the hunter knew…

It would wait forever if it had to.

The thing still circled the tree, still dragging its claws along the bark. The sound, a slow, deliberate scrape, set the hunter’s teeth on edge.

He stayed still, barely breathing. He’d hunted plenty of predators before, knew how to wait them out. But this… thing… wasn’t like anything he’d ever faced.

“Hahaha,” it giggled, voice shifting, flickering between childlike sweetness and a jagged, rasping growl. “Come down, Daddy… we can play now.”

The hunter’s fingers tightened around his rifle. He didn’t have many bullets left. And he wasn’t sure they’d matter.

Then… movement.

The thing twitched, head snapping to the side, as if listening to something he couldn’t hear. It let out a slow, shuddering breath. Then it turned.

It wandered toward the bushes.

The hunter didn’t waste time.

He moved fast, dropping from branch to branch, boots hitting the ground in a crouch. He barely absorbed the impact before bolting toward the treeline.

His truck was parked half a mile away. He could make it. He had to.

Behind him, the forest felt too still. No wind. No rustling leaves. Not even the sound of his own footsteps seemed real.

Then—

The laughter returned.

Not from behind him.

From everywhere.

It rustled through the trees, bouncing from shadow to shadow, rising in pitch. It was in front of him. To his left. His right.

It was waiting.

His boots pounded the earth. His breath came hard, white clouds against the frigid air.

The trees began to thin. The road was ahead. His truck, just beyond—

A shadow streaked through his peripheral vision. Too fast.

The hunter threw himself forward as something slammed into the ground behind him. He hit the dirt and rolled, rifle swinging up.

The thing was there, crawling toward him on all fours.

Its limbs were too long, joints bending the wrong way, lips peeled back in that smile.

He fired.

The bullet struck its shoulder. The thing lurched, its laughter twisting into a shriek that rattled his skull.

He didn’t stop. He ran.

The truck was so close.

His boots hit gravel. He ripped the door open, diving inside and slamming it shut. His hands fumbled for the keys…

The window.

His breath caught.

The thing stood just beyond the glass, grinning.

No movement. No attack. Just that wide, starving smile.

The hunter turned the key. The engine roared to life. His hands were shaking.

The thing cocked its head. Slowly, its lips parted.

“See you soon, Daddy.”

He didn’t wait to hear the rest.

The tires screeched against the road as he hit the accelerator, leaving behind the trees, the laughter, the thing that had called out to him.

But as the headlights cut through the dark, he saw something.

The thing hadn’t moved.

It just stood there, watching.

Still smiling in the rearview mirror, beside the photograph of his late daughter, taped to the frame.