Scootaloo quietly sighed to herself out of relief. After quickly scanning through every story on the list taking place after the one they just watched, she found that there had not been a second part. Unless Sweetie’s turn at randomly selecting the next story turned out really unlucky, it looked like there would be no more ghost stories tonight for this little scooterist.
“Sorry, girls. There’s no part two.”, she announced with a barely contained smile.
“Aw shucks.”, Apple Bloom said with a frown.
Sweetie Belle sighed in disappointment.
“Oh well.”, the unicorn filly said before covering her eyes with one forehoof while the other pointed directly at projected screen. “Start scrolling down, Scoots.”
The pegasus filly did as she was told, using the pen in her mouth to scroll down through the list of stories until finally being told to stop. She was still basking in her sense of relief a minute ago, until she heard her friend read the title.
“The Lair of the Wendigo”.
Both Apple Bloom’s and Scootaloo’s ears perked up and twitched slightly upon being greeted by that familiar word.
“Pardon?”, Apple Bloom puzzled. “Did ya just say Windigos?”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
“What do you mean sort of?”, Scootaloo asked with a raised eyebrow, now having dropped the pen.
Still looking at the screen, Sweetie squinted her eyes as she explained.
“It looks like it isn’t spelled the way it usually is. Here it’s spelled Wen-digo, instead of Win-digo.”
“Think it’s a typo?”, Scootaloo suggested.
“Who knows?”, Apple Bloom replied. “Personally, ah’m still thinkin’ about how surprisin’ it is that these humans apparently dealt with Windigos too.”
“Yeah.”, Sweetie Belle agreed. “I guess if their world is an alternate version of ours, who knows how many monsters in our world exist in human legend?”
Something about that question by her friend made something click in Scootaloo’s head. As the implication of Sweetie’s question further sank in, a dreadful thought raised itself to the forefront of Scootaloo’s mind.
“If our world’s monsters really do exist only as myth in the human world, does that mean every mythical monster we see in these stories… exists here for real?”
The longer she continued to dwell on this thought, the stranger she began to feel. More and more, these feelings were enveloping her; almost literally, in fact. It was as if the incalculably immense sense of dread was surrounding and enclosing around her whole body like it was a massive pair of wings. A motion that was much like how a mother pegasus shields her foal. Except, rather than keeping the cold and danger away, it imposed them upon her, smothered her in them.
Then suddenly, without warning, the narrator’s voice put Scootaloo’s train of thought to a halt after her two friends put on the story while she wasn’t paying attention. The pegasus’ eyes snapped to the image on screen of an eerie, snowy forest illuminated by the light of a full moon. Her ears stood at attention, listening as the familiar voice from the crystal ball recited a poem for all to hear.
“If you go down to the woods today,
You’re in for a big surprise.
If you go down to the woods today,
You’d better go in disguise.
For when the ground is cold
And covered in snow,
You’ll find yourself in the lair
Of the Wendigo.”
Both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were ready to remark on the delightful surprise provided by the narrator, until they saw something on screen that stopped them in their tracks.
“What in tarnation is that!?”, Apple Bloom cried out.
Grimacing at the screen, Sweetie added, “Whatever it is, please don’t make me look at it any longer! It’s giving me the willies!”
Having faded into view and overlapping with the opening image of the forest was the translucent visage of a ghoulish creature they did not recognize. Much of the details were hard to make out. But there was enough for them to tell that this was a gangly, near skeletally thin monster crawling on four spindly legs, each ending in horrific claws. It’s mouth appeared to be splayed wide open, no doubt preparing to consume whatever was in its line of sight. Meanwhile, Scootaloo subtly checked behind herself, draping one comforting hoof across her own shoulder. No longer did she feel the presence of the “wings” closing in on her, seemingly fading out of her subconscious as suddenly as they had manifested.
Allowing the overwhelming dread she had felt to fade into the background, the pegasus filly’s thoughts began to match her two friends’. They, like every generation since Equestria’s inception, have had the story of their country’s founding drilled into their heads since they were little. And just like most fillies and colts who were told that legend, they all had a healthy dose of fear of the powerful spirits that fed on hate and brought blizzards wherever they came. So much so that they even sometimes shuddered when they heard the noises made by strong winds, mindful of the Al’s sayings which claimed that the winds’ howls were actually the dreadful groans of the Windigos.
Despite how terrifying the prospect of coming face to face with a Windigo might be, they were at least familiar. The fillies could have gone into this knowing what to expect. But this… not Windigo (or “Wendigo” as the humans seemed to call it), through a whole wrench into that. There were virtually no similarities that could be seen between this beast and the Windigos they knew. This obviously begged the question: What did this story actually have in store for them?
“That can’t be the Windigo they’re talking about, right?”, Scootaloo finally spoke up.
“Well, if ain’t got nothin’ ta do with Windigos, then why would they show it?”, Apple Bloom asked.
The conversation halted as soon as the screen displayed the story’s first post-intro illustration. In the middle of a valley surrounded by thousands of frosty trees and massive snowy mountains, there lie a settlement made up of several tipi tents very reminiscent of the ones used by the Buffalo tribes. Three of its inhabitants, a tribe of humans the narrator called the “Algonquin” people, sat in a circle outside their homes. Presumably, they were recanting to one another the legend of a dark and evil spirit that, as the narrator described, had the power to possess and control the minds of men and women.
That would have already put all three fillies on edge, but the intensity was cranked to hair-raising by what they saw occupying much of the middle portion of the foreground. From behind, they saw a haggard figure clad in some sort of tattered robes. Jutting out from the left side of its body at full-extension was its one and only arm, impossibly thin and ending in five highly-twisted, tree branch-like fingers or tendrils. Meanwhile, the Algonquin were continuing to chat, completely oblivious that their folklore’s most evil spirit was stalking them, creeping closer and closer from the looks of it.
Scootaloo’s mind was running itself mad waiting for the moment where the human tribe would halt their gathering, turn their heads slightly and get out of dodge upon seeing the nightmare shambling its way towards them; but that moment wasn’t coming.
“For Celestia’s sake!”, she exclaimed while raising both forelegs in the air. “Get out of there!”
Normally, the other two would be telling their friend to relax, but they were actually sort of in agreement with her this time.
“Yeah. How haven’t they noticed the monster by now?”, Sweetie wondered. “It’s gotta be less than thirty hooves away.”
“Ah think it might actually be a scarecrow.”, Apple Bloom suggested, though in a tone reflecting how her attention was elsewhere.
Looking back at the entity before them, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo did begin to see what their friend was talking about. This creature’s gaunt proportions suddenly made sense upon considering that it wasn’t a living being at all The way the left arm looked so much like a tree branch was because it probably was a tree branch. And it makes sense that out of the three of them, the farm filly would recognize a scarecrow when she sees one. There was one problem, though.
“If it’s supposed to be a scarecrow, then where’s the crops it should be guarding?”, Scootaloo asked her friend.
Apple Bloom shook her head, “Look, it’s clearly winter, so whatever crops they might have ain’t growin’ right now.”
She then gestured towards the screen, “Ah’m more interested in why y’all are just ignorin’ the two ponies at the campsite!”
Indeed, as the other two looked once again, they saw two grazing ponies, one on the left and the other on the right side of the Algonquin camp. Sweetie’s eyes grew to saucer-size, while Scootaloo’s blinked a few times in surprise. Both of them were not only surprised by these two ponies’ presence, but by their stature as well. Each were unusually big to say the least, appearing to reach heights only seen by two ponies in their lives; those ponies being Princess Celestia and Trouble Shoes. Actually, they looked an awful lot like an illustration they saw of ponykind’s ancient ancestors, Equus primitivum. Regardless of how they looked, that still left a more important question unanswered.
“How are their ponies here too?”, Scootaloo asked. “I thought this was supposed to be the human world.”
“Do these Algonquin have some sorta special relationship with ponies?”, Apple Bloom also pondered aloud.
Sweetie Belle briefly considered answering her friend’s questions right then and there.
“Eh. I’ll tell them later.”, she figured.
This entity of Algonquin folklore was said to have preferred stalking its prey in the coldest months. While Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle wondered why this creature only hunted at a certain time of year, Scootaloo noticed the major similarity between her world’s Windigos and human’s Wendigos. Namely, the winter motif they both had. However, that concern soon took a backseat to what the narrator told them next. One of the girl’s blood ran cold as he explained how this spirit entered its victim’s dreams, through which it forced them to seek sustenance in the flesh of their fellowman.
“Are you okay, Sweetie?”, asked Apple Bloom, who noticed the coloration leaving her friend’s face.
“Yeah, you somehow look paler than usual.”, Scootaloo added.
“You girls really didn’t get any of that?”, Sweetie asked back incredulously.
The other two took note of how her now perplexed expression seemed to be transitioning out of a state of disgust. Somehow, they got the feeling they were totally out of the loop. Much like how Sweetie had to explain to them yesterday what it meant when it said the humans were “detonating” Antarctica.
“I mean no, not really.”
Apple Bloom interrupted Scootaloo with a question of her own.
“What do they mean when they say sustenance? And why is it found in ‘the flesh of their fellowman’?”, she said while making air quotes with her hooves.
“Sustenance means…”, Sweetie began explaining, before her pale complexion grew a slight green tinge, making her restart her sentence. “It’s anything that you’d see as food or water.”
“Ohhh!”, the other two said in unison.
They were about to leave the conversation there until the implications clicked in their heads, making their eyes snap to life with dread.
“Uhhh… you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”, Scootaloo asked like a foal who was just told they were being sent to military school.
Sweetie merely nodded and said, “They turn people into… cannibals.”
Scootaloo and Apple Bloom both instinctively gulped in response. Though, given the current subject matter, the normally innocuous act of swallowing somehow felt really gross at the moment.
The narrator continued to explain how if the victim, under the influence of the dark spirit, were to consume the body of another, there would be no “going back”, so to speak. They would forever be transformed into a horrifying creature. One which constantly craved human meat, with an appetite that was never fulfilled. They would become what is known as a Wendigo.
The Crusaders all grew queasy at the concept being laid out to them. As a herbivorous species, the idea of consuming meat of any kind was obviously something very foreign to them. In fact, that was one of the biggest hurdles Equestria needed to make as part of the current wave of immigration it was receiving. Numerous public outcries had been made in the coastal cities where newly-arrived griffon and dragon residents were opening butcher shops. So, given how uncomfortable ponies were at the thought of regular meat consumption, the topic of cannibalism was exceedingly rare even in their horror stories. Though, there were some exceptions. Apple Bloom wasn’t going to suddenly forget the nasty rumors that circulated years ago about Zecora serving ponies in a homemade stew.
Born of the Native American tribes that inhabited the colder climates of the north-eastern US and parts of Canada, the Wendigo is explained to be a legend of two halves.
“So, we got another story set in America again.”, Sweetie Belle said blankly.
“Why have most of these stories been set in America? Is it really that special of a place?”, Scootaloo wondered.
“Ah’m wonderin’ what the difference is suppose ta be between ‘native americans’ and other americans?”
“What do you mean?”, Sweetie Belle asked Apple Bloom.
“Just sounded like the narrator was tryin’ ta make a distinction with the way he specifically said Native American tribes.”
The Wendigo’s applied to both the evil spirit which possessed the victim and the physical being they would become after consuming the flesh of another. The spirit was attracted to two opposite ends of the social hierarchy; those who were greedy and spiteful, and those who were desperate and starving.
“Why those two types specifically?”, Scootaloo asked, but was only answered with shrugs.
It was said to haunt people in their sleep, filling their dreams with thoughts of cannibalism and a desire to kill and eat others, starting with those closest to them.
Apple Bloom let out a sharp gasp, immediately followed by covering her mouth with her own hoof.
“Nopony really is safe with this thing around.”, Sweetie lamented.
The idea that one day you could be struck with the uncontrollable compulsion to not just kill your loved ones, but eat their bodies as well was absolutely stomach churning if the Crusader’s nauseated tummies had anything to say about it.
However, the physical Wendigo that was now shown on screen was just as terrifying. Crawling through a woodland setting, the creature was tall and thin, with pale flesh pulled tight over its bones. It had a human-like head, which was somewhat deformed, with gaunt cheeks, dark pits for eyes and lips that had wasted away, exposing its razor-sharp teeth. The extremely sharp claws at the end of its spindly fingers were no doubt used to rip apart its victims. Wendigos were said to be fast, strong and agile, able to stalk their prey over extended periods of time.
“Ah bet they can smell blood from miles away like a shark too.”, Apple Bloom muttered while unconsciously resting a hoof on her bandaged forehead.
If this wasn’t bad enough, they’ve also been known to lure in victims by impersonating the voices of their friends and relatives.
“How is everything about this this thing so… wrong?”, Scootaloo grimaced.
Even though the wording was vague, her friends knew exactly what she meant. The very nature of this monster, at its core, was practically designed to unnerve them as ponies raised in Equestrian culture. The way it took advantage of someone’s trust for those closest to them. How it colonized one’s mind and made them commit the most heinous, unthinkable taboo. It truly was so… wrong, unnatural one could even call it. Mind, body and even love itself, none of this was sacred to this abomination; there was truly nothing that it wouldn’t violate.
“At least the only things here in Equestria that can impersonate your loved ones don’t want to eat you alive.”, Sweetie Belle said, recalling the Changelings who only fed on love, making them the opposite of their world’s Windigos in a way.
Although this was all supposed to be a simple legend used to elucidate the ills of winter, coldness, famine ad starvation, as well as the stigmas attached to greed and the accumulation of wealth, it has since evolved into something more. Listed as a modern-day cryptid, people still report encountering Wendigos to this day.
“Just so we’re clear, cryptid still means monster, right?”, Apple Bloom asked.
“I don’t know.”, Sweetie Belle answered.
The question is whether the legend is fueling these sightings or whether people are using the legend to explain something else they may be seeing. According to the narrator, finding credible reports of these encounters was near impossible, as there are little to no famous incidents on record. Yet they were still able to find some. He then let out a disclaimer that none of the accounts they were about to present had any evidence to back them up. They are purely anecdotal, but intriguing nonetheless.
Surprisingly, while Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were relieved to hear this, such news still brought Scootaloo no comfort.
The first of these encounters took place in New Brunswick, Canada on a property just outside Jemsegnear Grand Lake. Submitted to Reddit in April of 2015, the user states that he and his wife had moved to the area the previous summer.
“Who’s this ‘Reddit’ guy and why is he apparently the guy everyone reports to when there’s a Wendigo problem?”, Scootaloo asked.
“Maybe Mr. Reddit is the top guy in the Men in Black?”, Sweetie suggested.
“I’m pretty sure it’s been established that the Men in Black aren’t guys you wanna call upon unless you don’t mind having to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”, the pegasus filly quipped back.
“If he was one of the MIB’s best agents, they’d probably make sure no one knows he exists.”, Apple Bloom interjected. “Reddit is probably just the name of a magazine or somethin’ like that.”
The property came with about four acres of land and was largely surrounded by dense woods. They spent the first four months renovating the household before settling for what would prove to be a bitterly cold winter. The snowfall at the beginning of that year would be the deepest the region had seen for decades.
“I bet he and his wife were going through a rough patch.”, Sweetie Belle pondered. “Actually, scratch that. Their whole town must have been pretty grouchy if it had gotten that bad.”
“Sweetie, I don’t think the usual Windigo rules apply here now.”, Scootaloo said.
Their closest neighbors lived about a mile or two further along
Route 695 and the total white-out would only add to that sense of isolation, not that they minded the peace and quiet.
Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie Belle and asked, “Uhhh… Sweetie? What’s a white-out?”
“I only remember that it’s a weather condition that’s only seen in really, really cold and snowy places. Don’t know what actually happens in a white-out though.”, she answered.
The sun began to set just after 4 pm on those early winter evenings. And with the usual ambient sounds deadened by the snow, an eerie, deep purple twilight descended upon the scene night after night. At around 1 am on the 24th of January, the user reports that he was awoken by one of his dogs barking and scratching at the back door. Thinking that it needed to go outside and do its business, he left his wife sleeping in bed and made his way downstairs. As soon as he opened the back door, the dog made a dash for the tree line surrounding property, growling and barking at something in the darkness beyond. No matter how many times he tried to call her back, she just kept on running without so much as a glance back towards the house
Seeing the silhouettes of the dog sprinting to the woods ahead and its owner trying in vain to call it back, the trio of fillies was reminded of the fate of the dog from the first story they saw. Realizing what was likely to come next, they each dreaded the moment when the man would have to head into the woods to find her.
After hastily pulling on a pair of snow boots and grabbing a torch, the owner ran out across his yard and soon found himself standing at the edge of the woods, calling her name and shining a light into the thickets of trees. He could hear the snapping of branches off in the distance as his dog made her way through the bush, still growling and barking at whatever she could sense was out there. But then it suddenly went quiet…
“Oh shoot!”, Apple Bloom despaired, knowing what that entailed for the poor pet.
Scootalo grimaced as well, “If the barking suddenly starts back up again out of nowhere, he probably shouldn’t check it out.”
“Too bad I’m not there to tell him that, though.”, she mentally added.
The girls took solace in the fact that he obviously survived to tell the tale. At least they didn’t have to be too afraid for his safety as they watched him take just one step inside the tree line and shine his flashlight at the foliage. He stood still for a moment, listening; there was not even a whisper on the wind. He took a few more steps forward, called again and still heard nothing. He stated that he must have walked another twenty feet before he found himself amongst a grouping of European White Birches.
“Uh oh. If he’s surrounded by those trees, does that mean he lost his escape route!?”, Sweetie Belle panicked. “How does he get out of this, then?”
It was then that the man heard it.
“Babe?”
It was his wife’s voice, coming from behind him.
The entire trio shuddered. Non-coincidentally, they all imagined hearing the comforting voices of their respective caretakers coming out of the Wendigo’s hideous maw. That image felt wrong in all sorts of ways.
“On the small chance that really is his wife, ah hope he tells her ta get back inside soon.”, Apple Bloom tensely stated.
He turned around, fully expecting to see her standing at the edge of the tree line, but there was no one there.
“Turn back around! Turn back around!”, Scootaloo pleaded, expecting the Wendigo to pounce on him while his back is turned.
Then he heard it a second time; “Babe?”
Sweetie Belle briefly wore a blank expression, which soon was wiped away with a smile as she began letting loose a little stream of giggles.
“What’s so funny?”, she heard Scootaloo say.
Sweetie turned to see her pegasus friend being joined by Apple Bloom, both staring at her like she had just repeated the doctrine of the now defunct Camp Blank Flank. In other words, like she was a nut job.
“I just thought about how this thing’s ability to copy voices would make it a really good ventriloquist.”, she then was forced to pause to let out a snort. “And then I imagined it on stage with a ventriloquist dummy!”
Apple Bloom sputtered as she tried to reply, “Wow! That sure does make it less scary, don’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t! That thing is creepy enough on its own without holding one of those weird puppets in its claws.”, Scootaloo commented.
As Scootaloo’s friends took a moment to laugh at her expense, the man realized something was wrong. As before, the voice sounded as if it came from behind, but now it was from deeper inside the woods. He shone his torch into the branches, panning back and forth, when he suddenly noticed a movement about ten feet ahead of him. What both he and the Crusaders thought were branches stood up to reveal a long spindly figure.
While the other two gawked in surprise, Apple Bloom mentally tried to grade this monster’s stealth performance. Given how much experience the three of them have gained snooping and eavesdropping over the years, they’ve learned practically everything one isn’t supposed to do when sneaking up on someone. She decided to give him a B+.
When the torch beam passed over its face, the eyes did not reflect any light, they were just dark, black orbs. No doubt an indication of how this creature lost its humanity long ago. He had no time to think about what he was seeing as he turned and ran back towards the house, bursting out of the tree line and tearing across the open space of his backyard. Only when he reached his back door and saw that his dog was sitting there waiting for him did he look back, but there was nothing there.
“Yes!”, Apple Bloom cheered whilst pumping a hoof in celebration. “Thank Celestia, the dog made it out!”
Turning into an equine embodiment of an imp, Scootaloo decided to begin taunting.
“Oh, you don’t know that. Could actually be a Wendigo in disguise.”, she sneered.
Apple Bloom turned to frown at Scootaloo, before simply replying with, “Shut up!”
Like a wrestling villain, Scootaloo just basked in Apple Bloom’s contempt. Feeling like she had gotten back at the farm filly for the times she mocked her tonight.
When the man went inside, he found his wife still fast asleep in bed.
The user finished his post by saying, “I don’t know if the thing I saw was a Wendigo, but it fits the description. It could have been a ghost or, hell, even an alien. It might even have been my imagination, but the sound of my wife’s voice… And those eyes… It was very real to me.”
“Huh. I’m surprised that the Wendigo apparently gave up that easily.”, Sweetie Belle observed. “I wonder if it’s lazier than we’ve been led to believe.”
“Hmmm. Ya know, that’s got me thinkin’.”, Apple Bloom announced cheerfully. “Given all the manner of critters we’ve encountered, maybe we shouldn’t be so scared of this Wendigo whatever!”
She continued smugly, pointing a hoof at herself and keeping both eyes closed.
“Ah mean, look at me! Ah came face ta face with a chimera and ah’m still here ta tell y’all about it!”
Scootaloo’s chest visibly swelled up.
“You’re right!”, she declared. “What’s this Wendigo compared to a cockatrice that turns you to stone? We could totally handle it!”
“Well… we didn’t actually handle the cockatrice.”, Sweetie Belle pointed out. “Fluttershy did. And Apple Bloom, if your big sister didn’t show up, you actually would have been Chimera food by now.”
Eyelids lowered, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom gave Sweetie the harshest deadpan of the whole night before decided to just let that go. That surge of self-confidence wasn’t coming back anyway.
The user concluded his statement with, “I don’t know what I saw that night, but I can tell you that I haven’t been back into those woods.”
“Well, that’s one ‘brave act’ we have that this guy doesn’t.”, Sweetie conceded. “Despite how much trouble we’ve faced after entering the Everfree forest, that’s never stopped us from coming back there.”
“Yeah…”, Apple Bloom concurred, her face shifting to a neutral expression before continuing to speak.
“Ya know, before Miss Twilight showed up, Everfree was such an unexplored place. But now, it feels like a lot of its mystery has gone away since then. Y’all know what ah mean?”
As the story showed a cozy and picturesque log cabin in the middle of the frozen woods, the narrator began to tell the story taking place later that same year of a young man by the name of John Crowder who would have a chilling experience whilst working in “Brasher State Forest” of St. Lawrence, New York. John worked as a contractor, cutting and marking trails through the dense woodland in preparation for a public opening the following year.
“Ooo. I wonder what’s opening there?”, Sweetie Belle wondered.
“Let’s just hope it’s anything as cool as Mrs. Maregorium’s Toy Emporium!
“Or Silly Suga’s Candy Shop!”, the unicorn enthusiastically added.
“Ya know, that reminds me. Ah heard that a Silly Suga’s was gonna open up here in Ponyville.”, Apple Bloom chimed in before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering. “But, supposedly, Sweetie Drops got some outside help to keep any potential competitors outta town.”
“Who’s help do you think she could have enlisted to do something like that?”, Sweetie Belle asked.
“Ah dunno. But whoever they are, ah heard they used some really intimidatin’ methods against Silly Suga himself just ta make sure he never even thought of settin’ hoof in Ponyville again.”
“Now that I think about it, that Sweetie Drops did always kind of shifty.”, Scootaloo said as she put a hoof to her chin.
Unlike many of his co-workers, John was from out of state and often found himself spending his weekends in a cabin at the newly-established trailhead, whilst everyone else went home. During December, the first Winter snows began to hit the region and it would be just after 10 pm on the weekend of the 12th that John would receive an unwanted visitor. The story then proceeded to cut to John laying in bed, reading a book labeled “Bedtime Stories”.
“Well look at that, some self-promotion.”, Apple Bloom thought.
As he recalls, the snow was beginning to fall in earnest and he had just put another log on the fire. He was climbing back into his bunk to continue reading his book, when he was surprised by a loud thud on the roof. After a brief moment of shock, he reasoned that a clump of snow must have fallen from the branches of the tree overhanging the cabin and thought nothing more of it. Scootaloo smiled to herself, remembering how she used to get so easily spooked by noises like that. But after years of having the house to herself whenever her aunts weren’t there, she no longer carried herself like a spazz who overreacted to whatever creaks and groans she heard around her house.
However, about five minutes later, John was disturbed again. This time by a light, almost inaudible scratching sound above his head. Again, he quickly dismissed it, while Scootaloo personally felt like she jinxed the human’s situation somehow. He figured that either some branches were scraping across the roof or a Raccoon had decided to brave the elements in search of food. In any case the sound stopped abruptly after a few more minutes and after another hour or so, John decided to turn over and go to sleep.
He had just closed his eyes when he was startled by another loud thud. Then another. And another. And another. And then… nothing.
Scootaloo felt a bead of sweat drop down her forehead as she further began to empathize with John.
“Why do I get the feeling the Wendigo is just doing that to lure him out of the cabin?”, she wondered aloud.
John remembered a chill running up his spine, as it sounded like someone had just walked across the roof of his cabin. It was definitely not a raccoon; the thuds had been too heavy and they sounded bipedal. While Sweetie Belle wondered how he could tell that the footsteps belonged to something on two legs, he reasoned that someone was playing around before remembering just how deep in the woods he was. He then wondered who would have been out there at that time and in that weather? He knew he had to go check it out, but - for obvious reasons - felt apprehensive.
The story then transitioned to one of the most darkly lit illustrations they’d seen from any of these stories. John’s silhouette was barely visible as he hung out over his bannister, looking out at the pitch Black Forest ahead. For a time, he sat looking out his window to see if he could spot any movement. Given the low temperatures, he was already fully clothed. He slipped on his boots, opened the door and tentatively stepped out on to the balcony. And there he stood in the silence of the night, as the snow fell without a sound, knowing that there was someone out there, watching him.
There was nothing on the roof, but his eyes were drawn to the high branches of a nearby tree. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness and he never understood why, but for some reason he had the strangest, most overpowering feeling that there was a presence there. He went to switch on his torch, but something stopped him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a voice telling him that if he did, he would not live to see the light of day. Instead he turned around and went back inside, locking the doors behind him.
Sighing in relief, Scootaloo said, “Glad to see someone with good survival instincts. Just like me!”
Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow at her friend.
“Bein’ awful skittish about anythin’ that’s remotely spooky don’t mean ya got good self-preservation instincts.”
“Yeah.”, Sweetie concurred. “In fact, out of the three of us, your crusading ideas were probably the most consistently reckless and life-threatening.”
Scootaloo simply scowled back at the both of them.
With their points made, the unicorn and earth pony filly turned back towards the screen, unaware that their friend was now directing towards them the most obscene gesture in the Equestrian lexicon.
With John, hours had passed by and nothing else happened, but he had been so unnerved by what he felt that he could not even close his eyes. Eventually, sleep did find him. He awoke several hours later. Looking out of the window, he was relieved to see the sun was just beginning to rise. The scene before him was peaceful and silent, but in the half light he spotted on the balcony just outside the doors bare humanoid footprints in the virgin snow. And in that moment, he knew something been watching him while he slept.
Scootaloo gave an involuntary shudder. She hated being reminded of how everypony is at their most vulnerable when they sleep. For a moment, the poor filly considered checking the window behind her but, of course, realized that was silly. She didn’t need to be caught doing that the second time that night.
Although John didn’t see anything that night, when his colleagues returned the following Monday and he told them about his experience, most of them laughed and joked about it. One or two, however, were dead serious when they told him that he’d been visited by a Wendigo. As the video began transitioning away to its next story, the trio of fillies grew perplexed.
“Hol’ up!”, Apple Bloom protested. “How do they know for a fact it was a Wendigo?”
“We didn’t even see the monster this time!”, Scootaloo complained
“Yeah.”, Sweetie Belle agreed. “And Scootaloo, I think you made a good point earlier. If this thing is supposed to be so relentless, why did it let these people get away so easily?”
The conversation might have continued on longer if it weren’t for the next illustration that popped up on screen. Bundled up in typical winter garb was a bearded human wearing glasses and holding one of his species’ “hand canons”, as the Crusaders liked to call them, only this one seemed to have more instruments attached to it. However, that’s not what was capturing their attention. Rather, it was what the human was standing next to in a most triumphant pose that choked down any words that was about to leave their throats. Lying lifeless deep in the snow next to this human the narrator called Chuck Latimer was the body of a male deer; its impressive antlers were tall enough reach above the human’s waist from where he lay.
Before any of the three fillies could say anything, the narrator began talking about how Chuck had the story of his own encounter with a Wendigo published in an issue of “Fortean Times” over twenty years ago. The Crusaders all felt their blood ran cold as they were told that Chuck had a background as a “hunter from Delta County, Michigan”. Born in 1939, he had apparently spent many years hunting in the woods and forests of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. This had all confirmed to the fillies what their guts had been telling them and they did not like it. The occupation of “hunter” was not one that had a presence in Equestria, only in cultures like those of the Griffons. But even then, those hunters didn’t hunt down and kills sapient beings such as deer, unlike this Chuck Latimer fellow.
Sweetie Belle was the one who finally decided to take the initiative, putting the story on pause. She turned her to look at the other two and their dumbstruck faces. It seemed a bit cruel that they had to learn this horrific truth just when the Wendigo’s scare factor was starting to wear off for them. It took another few seconds before either of them finally spoke up.
“Ah can’t believe that the humans we’ve been hearin’ about in all these stories also like ta…”
Apple Bloom couldn’t even finish that sentence; thankfully she didn’t have to.
“How sick do you have to be to hunt a race as peaceful as the deer!?”, Scootaloo blurted out.
With a sigh, Sweetie finally spoke up.
“Girls.”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned to face their friend, much anticipation could be seen on their faces over what she would say next.
“There’s… something else about the human world I forgot to tell you.”
“You mean to tell us that Princess Twilight told you that in the human world ponies, donkeys, deer and all creatures with hooves are pretty much pea brained animals.”, Scootaloo summarized Sweetie’s explanation right back to her. “And you somehow forgot ALL about that!?”
“It just never had the right time to come up in conversation, I guess.”, the unicorn filly sheepishly excused herself.
“So, those ponies we saw with the Algonquin earlier in the story were… livestock?”, Apple Bloom asked.
Sweetie Belle shrugged.
“Probably.”, she replied. “It’d be no different the chickens you and Fluttershy keep.”
Scootaloo chimed back in.
“And that dead deer?”, she asked, pointing one hoof at the screen while keeping her eyes on Sweetie.
“If I had to guess, he probably eats them.”, she simply answered back.
Both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom shuddered at that mental image, though the latter halted herself sooner when a thought occurred to her.
“Ah guess, ta this Chuck feller, eatin’ that deer is just like when Gallus and Smolder eat those little rodent critters they like so much.”
Having already met a friendly dragon and griffon before helped a great deal when they needed to make friends with the School of Friendship’s first resident griffon and dragon. Unfortunately, given that they never saw Spike or Gabby indulge in their natural carnivore diet, that left them totally unprepared during the moments they bore witness to the moments where Gallus and Smolder did so. Still, they eventually got used to that. Although, that didn’t exactly answer the question of whether they could get past the fact that humans treated their kind, despite being non-sapient, like cattle and possibly even food.
Apple Bloom’s stomach grew nauseous. With so much talk about things like cannibalism or ponies and deer being eaten, the thought of consumption of any sort was starting sound disgusting to her. Like the act of eating itself was somehow tainted into an act of depravity. Scootaloo quickly took notice of how grossed out her friend looked.
“Are you okay, Apple Blooom?”, she asked.
“I-it’s alright.”, the farm filly reassured. “Can we please just get back to the story now?”
Taking the hint that her friend wanted to get this over with, Sweetie Belle levitated the pen in her magic and tapped the projected screen to continue the story.
As everypony in the room tried to let awkward feeling in the air around them dissipate, the explanation on Chuck Latimer’s background continued. It was told of how so much years spent hunting allowed him to become accustomed to the outdoors. He had heard many strange tales about the forests of North America. He had even heard some weird sounds on previous camping trips, but had never seen anything out of the ordinary and didn’t believe in any of the stories he had been told. Relatives had described him as an honest, salt of the Earth kind of man, with a no-nonsense approach to his endeavors.
Apple Bloom felt a little smile creep onto her face as she was able to forget about her nausea from a mere moment ago. The description of this man reminded her so much of her sister in all the best ways. It was just what she needed to hear if she wanted to be able to empathize with him, in spite of his profession. She was glad that it came as soon as it did.
The story of Latimer’s encounter was published some years after his untimely death and was submitted by his son, Andrew; this news immediately wiped the smile off of Apple Bloom’s face. It took place in December 1983, whilst his father was on a hunting trip in the “Gwinn State Forest” of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The Crusaders briefly felt relieved that story was finally transitioning away from the image of Chuck standing over a dead deer, only to be disappointed when an even worse image of him pointing his hand-canon at a deer in the distance popped up.
“Oh come on!”, Sweetie Belle griped.
Chuck was three days into this particular excursion when he came across something he was never able to explain and which kept him from doing solo hunts for many years afterwards. It was early afternoon and the going had been tough. He had tracked a large buck for some distance over difficult terrain, which was blanketed by snow. He finally got eyes on his quarry when he approached the edge of an expansive clearing. Being some distance away and downwind of the animal, he had time to be patient as he carefully moved into a good position and took aim with his “Remington Rifle”.
When he finally took the shot, Latimer was disappointed (though the Crusaders were relieved) to see the buck twitch and bolt into the trees beyond. He had it in the flank, but his aim had been off by a good three inches.
Scootaloo winced, “Oh jeez! Did it have to be in the flank?”
“There are lots of worse places ta get shot than the flank, Scoots.”, Apple Bloom retorted.
“But isn’t sitting down gonna hurt like a bitch afterwards?”
Still, it was wounded. It would soon succumb to its injuries and all Chuck had to do from that point was follow the trail of blood.
Scootaloo couldn’t help but feel slightly infuriated by how casually this man treated shooting and killing her fellow hooved-creature. But she quickly decided to let it go. After all, he was doing this to survive and couldn’t afford to emphasize with his own prey. Besides, it’s not like he was doing this for sport, right?
As the story showed the illustration of him making it halfway across the clearing, things supposedly started to get a little weird for him. Chuck described that the air seemed to turn thick and dull, and that everything went quiet. All the usual woodland sounds died out and he was suddenly overcome by a peculiar feeling of vulnerability, as if he was exposed. He continued forward, but not without a degree of trepidation. Just inside the tree line on the other side of the clearing, he saw the buck lying on its side, it’s flanks bellowing as hot air - visible in the low temperatures - poured from its nostrils. Sweetie Belle covered her ears, wanting to be spared any more details of the deer’s suffering.
He got to within 30 feet of the dying animal, hunting knife in hand, when he noticed something strange. Just behind the deer, there was a mass of white, which at first glance looked like a pile of snow. But now he could see that it was moving as if attached to the wounded buck. He would move just a few steps closer before stopping dead in his tracks. His mouth hung agape as he saw an inhuman face rise up from behind his kill.
All three fillies grew horrified as the story panned to reveal the monster standing over the deer’s body. They quivered at the sight of the blood dribbling out of its mouth and would not dare to challenge Chuck’s description of the creature’s facial expression as the most evil he had ever seen. It was as if the trio had suddenly been reminded of the harm this abomination was capable of inflicting.
It suddenly moved into a defensive posture, crouching over the deer as if protecting it. It then emitted a high pitch screech, which was enough to send Chuck running for the opposite side of the clearing. That detail was also enough to make Scootaloo shudder from her place on the floor as she recalled the blood-curdling screech of the Mothman from the first story they watched two nights ago. He managed to get back to his camp and abandoned his trip early. As far as his son knew, Chuck never went hunting in those woods ever again.
“Huh.”, Apple Bloom said plainly. “That’s the third time this Wendigo let a person go.”
“I know right?”, Scootaloo agreed. “I thought this thing was supposed to hunger for human flesh. Why did it go for the deer instead?”
Sweetie Belle tapped a hoof to her chin, “Do you think the whole ‘human turned cannibal’ part of its mythos was made up, but everything else is true?”
“Maybe.”, Apple Bloom conceded, until a new thought occurred to her. “Or maybe it used ta feed on humans a long time ago, but now that they’ve got all this technology and weaponry, the humans became more trouble than they’re worth.”
Scootaloo nodded at her friend’s speculation.
“Yeah, that makes sense. They probably won’t attack a human unless they have the element of surprise.”
After Chuck recalled the creature’s numerous other physical features that the Crusaders were already familiar with, the narrator told of how Chuck would often tell this story to those closest to him. Even as he was terminally ill with cancer and on his deathbed, he would recount this tale one last time…
The mention of Chuck Latimer’s death at the hands of cancer was enough to make all three fillies’ ears sorrowfully flatten against their heads.
The narrator then began rhetorically asking whether these were all just tall tales or if these people actually did see something out in the woods? The biggest problem to found with so-called Wendigo encounters is that it’s a known fact that this creature is nothing more than a legend. All three fillies found the narrator’s certainty to be a bit out of character, but opted to let him explain himself first. In the original folklore, the Wendigo did not have a physical presence at all, it only existed in spirit form. It’s physical manifestation only came about later and even then, there are multiple descriptions regarding its appearance. Whilst most tribes described it as depicted in this episode, others said that it looked more like a man-eating Sasquatch.
“What’s a Sasquatch?”, Sweetie Belle said before cringing slightly. “Sheesh, that word felt weird leaving my mouth.”
“Whatever it is, ah hope ah never have ta meet it.”, Apple Bloom declared, naturally wary of its description as man-eater.
And particularly in later years, and especially since the advent of the “internet”, modern descriptions suggest it has the skull of a deer for a head, complete with antlers.
As the the head of the Wendigo shown on screen transformed into that of a deer skull, all three Crusaders went silent for a solid few seconds.
“What the buck?”, Scootaloo finally said.
None of the fillies, for the life of them, could figure out what connection deers could possibly have with the act of cannibalism. The deer were known to have a deep connection with nature and are just as if not more peace-loving and non-aggressive in their stance than Equestria is. Sure there had been rough patches with them in the past, but that was only because the deer’s homes, the forests, were being encroached upon. They certainly never had been reports of the deer committing any indiscriminate killing, and especially no reports of these known vegetarians consuming anyone’s flesh.
“Are the deers in the human world totally different from the deer we have here?”, Sweetie Belle pondered.
She was only met with shrugs by the other two, so she’d have to call that a “maybe” for now.
Unlike the Skinwalker - another Native American legend - Wendigos are unable to shapeshift, so these discrepancies in appearance only serve to cast further doubt upon its physical existence.
“Sounds like something they’ll talk about in a future episode.”, Sweetie Belle said. “Any of you want to see their story on that next?”
Apple Bloom rubbed their back of her own head.
“Ehh, ah think for now ah’ve heard enough stories from these… Native Americans.”
She still wasn’t exactly sure what adding the word “Native” in front of “American” was supposed to imply.
It was now being explained how it’s easy to see how legends such as those of the Wendigo were perpetrated when one considers that they come from the days before modern medicine when many illnesses and mental conditions were caused by spirits. The Northern US and parts of Canada are bitterly cold during Winter and there would, without a doubt, have been times when food was scarce in such harsh environments. This perhaps led to some individuals becoming so desperate that they resorted to eating the flesh of the dead, an act seen as the ultimate taboo. It is possible that the legend was born out of a need to both explain and deter these actions as well as to establish morality against greed and personal accumulation of food or wealth. To the Crusaders, it was once again very encouraging to be reminded that these humans did indeed have a sense of morality that could be compatible with their own; it’s moments like that which remind them that friendship is an offer that should be extended to anyone, and these should not be the exception.
“I totally get why they’d want to stop cannibalism and greed, but why can’t anybody be allowed to get rich?”, Scootaloo questioned.
“You remember Mr. Yesteryear’s lesson about pre-civilization pony tribes?”, Sweetie Belle asked her friend.
Judging by the way Scootaloo averted her gaze and bit her bottom lip, the answer was “no”.
With a sigh, Sweetie began explaining.
“So, the biggest difference between ponies before and after they became ‘civilized’ was that they didn’t have agriculture-“
Scootaloo was in the middle of raising her hoof when Sweetie immediately answered the question that had not yet been asked.
“You know, crops and farms.”
The pegasus put her hoof back down.
“Anyway, so before they had that stuff, there was never an excess of food available.”
Scootaloo turned her eyes towards Apple Bloom to help simplify.
“The point Sweetie Belle is gettin’ at is that if ya live in a place where there ain’t alotta resources and yer tryin’ ta hoard a buncha stuff, yer just bein’ a selfish jerk.”, the farm filly chimed in. “That’s probably what it was like for these Algonquin tribes.”
The point was better communicated when the narrator explained how the legend encouraged individuals to share their supplies for the good of the tribe.
“Exactly.”, said Sweetie Belle. “These people probably didn’t have money, so wealth only came in the form of food and supplies. You shouldn’t be hoarding that stuff from everyone else.”
All that said, could people be encountering something else in the woods and incorrectly attributing these sightings to the Wendigo? After all, the forests of North America are so vast, there are places within them that people have never visited. It’s not difficult to consider the possibility of a long-lost people still eking out an existence deep in those interiors; or possibly something else entirely non-human. This reminded the girls of how the hippogriffs, fleeing from the Storm King, carved out a new life as seaponies deep down in the ocean.
It was then said by the narrator that there were some videos that suggested this possibility was, indeed, the case. Whilst they may actually be nothing more than hoaxes, they are rather intriguing. He then warned the audience that they were presented with clips that have been attributed to possible Wendigo sightings.
While the other two let out an audible gulp, Scootaloo put her best mask of bravado she could manifest. Though her voice immediately undercut her efforts.
“B-bring it on!”
The first video was from 2009. In it, a group of humans were sitting around a campfire and having the following conversation.
[“This stick is getting pretty damn sharp.”
“Oh f*** the smoke is in my face!”
“Well, you’ve been sharpening it for like two hours.”]
Just then, an otherworldly vocalization could be heard, which halts the campers’ conversation. In the background, a pale and lanky humanoid figure on all fours could be seen quickly crawling in and out of view. Amazingly, none of the campers appear to spot the creature. As for the Crusaders, all of them had immediately began trembling upon seeing the Wendigo. One would erroneously think, based on their reactions, that they’d never come face to face with a monster before, especially more than once.
[“Do you hear something?”
“That’s the dog.”]
“What dog?”, Apple Bloom interrupted.
[“Okay, it’s probably shy though.”]
The conversation was cut off once again, this time by the video cutting to a zoomed-in replay of the moment the monster was spotted in the background.
“Eugh!”, Sweetie Belle exclaimed, not liking the view of this thing’s gaunt and spindly frame in motion.
While the narrator acknowledged that this video could be genuine, he also pointed out how odd it was that there appeared to be a light source on the ground near to and pointing directly at the creature as it passed by. Also, the way the camera is aimed in that direction at nothing in particular, instead of focusing on the people around the campfire, makes it seem a little staged.
“Ah suppose that’s a bit too convenient.”, Apple Bloom conceded.
The next video was recorded on January 1st, 2014 and focuses on a group of guys exploring an abandoned property. The video opened with the camera pointing at a red piece of clothing, possibly a dress, on the ground.
[“Is that a dress?”
“That’s disgusting.”]
That got Sweetie to raise an eyebrow.
“What’s so gross about a dress?”
“Are they talking about something that isn’t on camera?”, Scootaloo wondered.
After the camera is taken off the dress, it’s pointed around the room, trying to follow wherever the flashlight is pointing. Apparently, one of the guys suddenly hears a noise.
[“Was that you?”
“I don’t hear anything…”
“It’s nothing, come on.”
“Okay.”
“Wait, the backyard.”]
In anticipation, all three Crusaders held their breath as one of the guys quickly checked the backyard.
[“There’s nothing.”
“I’m gonna go back. I saw a bath-“
“Shhh!”
“What? What is it?”
“Sounds like it’s on the other side. You know, where we first came in.”
“…”
“Yeah, it’s back there.”]
They continued to whisper to each other as they made their way to the source of the noise. One of the guys began shucking his friends. Noticing that they still had the flashlight shining bright, they urged the man holding it to shut it down. Just as they turned the light off, the recording picked up a truly unearthly sound. What started off as a squeal shifted into a horrifying amalgam of groaning and clicking.
[“What is that?”
“Turn-turn the light back on. It sounds like it’s in the corner.”
“What the f*** is that!?!”]
The whole trio of fillies felt their fight or flight (mostly flight) instincts flare up as the blue light revealed the monster poking its head from behind the corner. The creatures shriek made the fillies jump in their seats and sent the guys bolting out of room and booking it out of the building, cursing all the while. It took a lot of self-control for Scootaloo to resist the instinct to run away herself. The narrator began commenting not only on the dark lighting and the lack of a clear shot of the creature, but also how the whole situation seemed very “contrived and almost cliche in this day and age”. It was this reasoning that led him to the opinion that this video was also staged.
Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but gawk at the narrator’s line of reasoning for dismissing what was, to her, more than solid evidence of this thing’s existence. Especially the first video. She felt that it would take some of the most talented illusionists in Equestria to fake that one.
“I guess that time me and my friends saw a cockatrice didn’t actually happen, then. Too contrived and cliche to have been real.”, she bitterly thought.
The next video was shot in 2005 and uploaded in 2011.
Scootaloo was almost ready to calm down after the last footage, but that detail the narrator mentioned about the next one seemed ominous to her.
“Why did it take so long for them to ‘upload’ it?”
She was relieved to hear that the person who originally filmed this video did not die before he could share it with the world. He just didn’t notice anything wrong in the footage until he reviewed it six years after it was recorded. The footage itself consists of the uploader with his camera wandering around a remote graveyard surrounded by woodland. Nothing out of the ordinary is seen until a red arrow on screen points out what appears to be a strange humanoid figure peeping out from behind a gravestone. The zoom in on the creature shown afterward unnerved the trio. Its features, if it had any, were still hard to make out, but what they saw painted an unpleasant picture.
Apple Bloom shivered, before turning to ask something from both of her friends.
“Have any of y’all ever looked through old photos n’ got creeped out when ya saw somethin’ in ‘em ya don’t remember bein’ there?”
“No.”, Sweetie answered. “Have you?”
“Well, no. But ah figured it be awful creepy if it did happen.”
The unicorn deadpanned a look at her friend for wasting a potentially interesting conversation.
“I can say for sure if I saw something like that in my old photos of me and my aunts at Neighagra Falls…”, Scootaloo said while pointing a hoof at the creature on screen. “I’d be pretty freaked out. Not gonna lie.”
The narrator noted that while the time delay between recording and uploading is interesting, this figure could easily be someone standing behind a gravestone pushing a mannequin into shot and then retracting it before the camera pans back. Sweetie Belle felt a bit more satisfied with the reason for dismissal this time; at least he was offering an alternative explanation for what was being seen, instead of just saying “this feels staged” or “it’s too cliche”. The narrator announced the final video, which was found on a “camera phone” from the mid-2000’s, meaning the video quality was poor.
“Is it me, or is this story really long?”, Sweetie Belle complained.
Scootaloo couldn’t agree more.
“Tell me about it. This is already the longest one yet and it’s still going!”
Their slight irritation would give way to a tinge of fear as they were told by the narrator how no one has come forth to claim the footage and the owner of the phone has never been traced.
“Ah really hope we’re not about ta actually see someone die.”, Apple Bloom grimly prayed.
Nopony dare say a word as they watched the footage of a couple wandering through the woods. The man points out to his spouse a strange creature out in the distance, to which she reacts in shock. It looked almost translucent as it makes its way through the trees; whether the Wendigo was in its spirit form or it really was because of the poor camera quality, it was hard to say. Uneasily, the couple continued watching the entity as it inched closer and closer, while the Crusaders hang at the edge of their seats. The fillies’ hearts skipped a beat when the creature let loose a blood curdling screech and began charging at the couple. Their heart rates continued at skyscraper heights as they watched the couple desperately run for their lives before the husband decided to drop his camera phone.
When the video ended, they all released a breath that they hadn’t realized they were holding.
Shaking like a leaf in the wind, a startled Scootaloo thought to herself, “I think I need to go use the bathroom after this is over.”
The narrator, for his part, said that if this was actually a hoax, then it was a very good one.
“Ah wish ah could ask him how he’s so unaffected when watchin’ stuff like that.”, said Apple Bloom, marveling at how calmly the narrator breaks down and analyzes videos as scary as these.
For him, one possible give away was the sound of the creature. It was extremely clear and does not seem to vary in volume despite varying distances away from the recording device. Also, the quality of the footage leaves a lot to be desired. He then began his conclusion by stating that the Legend of the Wendigo seemed to be just that; a legend. It survives today in Native American folklore and internet “creepypastas”.
Some of the fillies let out a snort, while others went straight to chuckling.
“What?”, asked Scootaloo between giggles.
“Who tells stories through sPooKy sPagHeTTi?”, Sweetie Belle asked, using a mocking tone for those last two words.
The narrator also made sure to mention how the legend also lends its name to an actual mental illness called “Wendigo Psychosis”, whereby the sufferer develops the craving for or fear of consuming human flesh. Not only is this little factoid considered about as real as it gets for a lot of people, it also quickly sucked the humor out of the room and left the fillies in awkward silence. On the other hand, the question still remained of whether the legend developed for deeper reasons. Was there something more that the Algonquin people knew about? Could there be something out there in those woods?
The Crusaders allowed the story more time to fade out fully before they even considered saying anything. They weren’t even sure what they could say about all they’ve seen. It turns out that out of all of them, Apple Bloom would be the first one willing to try speaking up.
“That… was a roller coaster.”
“Yeah.”, Sweetie Belle concurred. “Yeah, here we came into this expecting to hear about the Windigos of Equestrian legend, and then we got something totally different.”
A smile creeped onto Scootaloo’s face as she spoke.
“Yeah, this was something totally different.”
Both of her friends took notice of Scootaloo’s sudden positive shift in mood.
“What ya smilin’ about?”, asked Apple Bloom.
“It’s nothing.”, the pegasus filly answered back. “I just remembered what Sweetie Belle said earlier about the monsters in our world existing in human legend.”
“What about that?”, Sweetie asked.
“It just made me wonder if there was some sort of ‘rule’ that any monster seen in human legend must exist in our world for real.”, Scootaloo tried explaining. “But since human legends have Wen-digos, a monster that’s totally different from our Win-digos, that probably means there are other monsters in human legend that don’t exist in our world either.”
While Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle struggled to wrap their heads around this train of logic, Scootaloo continued.
“Plus, there’s never been legends of anything like those Wen-digos here in our world!”
“Well, not in Equestria.”, Apple Bloom countered. “But there might be somethin’ like the Wendigo in other countries. Ah wouldn’t be surprised if Yakyakistan has stories of a creature just like that.”
The pleasant expression on Scootaloo’s face immediately began to fade.
“Plus, we don’t know for sure if there aren’t Windigos in human myth.”, Sweetie added. “They might even just be called by a totally different name in their folklore.”
As her expression completely soured, Scootaloo passive-aggressively retorted, “Or maybe, what I said is actually true and we don’t need to argue the point further.”
Surprised by yet another mood shift from their friend, they had no time to question Scootaloo’s behavior before she got up and headed to the door.
“Where are ya goin’?”, Apple Bloom asked.
“I gotta use the bathroom. I’ll be back before you know it.”, she answered as she exited the room.
After a few seconds in silence, Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom and asked, “What’s with her?”