The Windigo

by -Hidden Identity-


14

Day 14:
Begin week two. Has it really only been two weeks? So much has happened, it seems more likely that I am entering week six. Every pony out there has to obey the laws of time according to how time governs him or her, but they do not have to pay attention to it. The sun hangs very low in the sky, it seems that it has just arisen as I have. I fell asleep next to the table, my journal lying open, reminding me of the night’s horrors. I did not look out the window as I slid the journal off the table so I could write, but I feel that I must look out to check whether the face still lingers, still smiles. If it remains then I must go and confront it, and if it has moved then I will go to where I saw it off in the trees. But not yet, first I will go see if Host is awake or around. Do not let yourself be seen from the outside, do not let yourself be seen at all.

Host is, surprise surprise, gone. I am once again on my own in this cabin. Cabins always have the most foreboding feel to them, occupied or not. Crafted by bare hooves, stripped trees of their wood and crafted four walls and a roof to be placed in, much like a coffin. But you live in a cabin; a cabin is a refuge and a home. But you can die in a cabin, and you can seek refuge in death. Wymble. Cross. Shouldn’t have been…isn’t fair. The window or the door, either one would give me a proper view. But I am safer inside of the house should it still be there… the window it is.

It’s not there anymore. Nothing’s there. The spot where the face is empty, an empty space in between two of the trees. Early in the day to search, later in the day to reflect, that’s what one of my old teachers used to say. Now let’s see if she was right.

Tracks. Pony tracks. Pony tracks leading in through the woods directly to that spot, and then returning into the trees. Something was here, but I don’t know what it was. Pony tracks though…it was some type of pony. Or what was a pony. I searched around the area for a while, but did not dare to follow the tracks for any distance. The area around where the thing was was not disturbed in any way. The snow was unmarked, no branches broken or leaves torn off. It must have been able to move with great care. I bet it could move silently, and track down ponies at any distance. It must have been living in the woods for a long time, or had natural instinct. Peers, what have you become? Leave now.

Host came back briefly just a moment ago. The first thing he said as he strode through the door was if something was following me. I pray that my face did not expose the lie I told. Yes Host, there is something following me, but nothing you need to be concerned about. If you get involved, you will become a target. In all your years of being out in the Outer Centre, have you ever known what “inner bark” is? I have, I’ve known what it is like to eat my friends and have no idea what I was doing. Would it be crazy or sane to say that it was one last act of friendship? Trying to keep me alive? But it wasn’t me who did the awful deed; it was Peers. He gave it to me, and I ate. From the moment when the veil was lifted I never looked at it again, and I time and time again gambled for my life with the plants in the Sanctum. I won every time. I wonder if none of the plants were poisonous like Peers told us towards the beginning of the trip. When did he change? It must have been early, as Cross died on day four. Ten days ago exactly was when the first burial, and the first unearthing.

Host has been gone for a long while now…I hope nothing has happened to him. He showed me yesterday what types of plants were obviously edible and inedible, so I can keep myself fed if need be, and he has captured enough of the snowmelt to sustain us another week with ease. Another two weeks if we drink it more sparingly. It must be close to around three o’clock judging by the position of the sun right now. You know what? I’m going to treat myself to what is considered by many a classy pony to be a luxury in itself: an afternoon nap. See you in a couple of hours, journal.

An unpleasant nap, to say the least. Dreams of smiling faces filled my closed eyes, and something came scratching around my ears. The scratching was present through most of the dream, I recall. Host has not yet returned? The sun is beginning to set, and the only reason I would be outside after dark is if I was dead. I feel that it would be wise to go look for him, but I have the sense that it would be both unwelcomed and unwise. No sense in getting lost, and he would just as well have me gone. Still, no harm in checking the immediate area around the cabin; I won’t get lost there.

Do I leave? Is it safer in the cabin than in the woods? Is there any safe haven now? I honestly can’t say. What is it that it can penetrate my dreams, and burrow into my mind? Where is it? Every shadow is reaching and every shadow wants to consume. Where’s Host? Where is he?

Scratching. Scratching around my ears in my sleep: the sound of the wall being carved on. A simple message: “From one cabin to another. It makes no difference to me. You choose.” And underneath the entire thing was jaggedly scrawled a single word: Windigo. What is that, Peers? I would speak directly to you…but what are you? Have you named yourself now? You have had the advantage of knowing me, and I have always been behind for I did not know you. Windigo. You have carved this three times, and one might think it foolish to reveal your true self. Peers, you are dead. The Windigo is my hunter now. Regardless of whatever you are, you have killed my friends, and kept me at bay by being a trusted acquaintance. Having me call you Peers, the name of a pony who I trusted…now have it out.

If you have possessed the moment to kill me, then why not just do it? It didn’t take much time to wreak havoc on the other two, so what makes me so special? Peers and I were close, but not the best of friends, not like Wymble. I never thought I would become game to another creature. Ponies rule Equestria, and every other powerful being concedes to the rules of Celestia. Celestia. You, Windigo, remain within Equestria and you hunt us as game. Predator and the prey. Yet Celestia does not know of you, or perhaps she does. What does that make her? Oh, our great ruler who does not take the time. If she does not take the time to eradicate Equestria from the denizens of the pits, then what time will she take to keep herself in power?

Host? Where are you? Come back to me. Come back.

Cath Wintergreen Amber