The Windigo

by -Hidden Identity-

6

Day 6:
Last night was a sleepless night for all of us, even for poor Wymble, sick as he is. The night gave us a clear night with no moon, and no stars. So maybe it was cloudy after all, but the air is cold enough to make me think otherwise. Still no wind, and the ground outside is still covered in a thick blanket of snow and ice. But this morning we were granted the first blue sky since the first storm hit which trapped us in this frozen and forsaken spot. It’s nice to see the sun again, regardless of the fact that whatever warmth it distributes out to Equestria does not come to us. But yet it is a cruel treatment, to be able to see and be blinded by a thing that gives happiness and warmth, and yet not be able to benefit from its gifts. I have never really stopped to look at our cabin since we first used it for refuge, but I feel that it is time to become truly acquainted with our dwelling. There are the two rooms, but one is unused as having more ponies in one room results in a warmer room. I have been going back and forth in my opinion about which is more important: food or warmth, and I for the present I believe that warmth is the greater of the two. If the temperature drops too severely, Wymble will die. Let me rephrase that, Wymble will die sooner. What am I supposed to think? That somehow he is going to get better in this place? Sometime in the last two days I said that we needed to keep up hope, because it keeps us going and it can’t be taken away unless you willingly let it go. I have not given up hope, but I am facing reality. What usefulness is lying to ourselves at this point? Yeah, if we lie they are going to get better? My hope is as follows: we are all going to survive as long as possible, and that eventually somepony will discover us, in whatever state we may be in.

Realized that I got off track and started ranting, it’s not good to lose your head, as Cross did; and we all see where that landed him. But in our cabin, we have one bed that currently holds Wymble, the embers of the fire, (we’ve run out of useable burnable material, it’s just down to the bare coals), our single, grimy window, and the door with the word “Wind” carved into it. I want to ask, but at the same time I think the response would be frightening. Peers has been sitting in the corner since last night, unmoving, and staring at the wall with wide and distant eyes. I’ve walked by him, but he doesn’t respond to any motion. It’s like he doesn’t realize that we’re there, or as if he’s in some sort of trance. Something I was thinking on last night, during the endless hours of watching the monotonous darkness around us, that Cross has been the only one of us who has shed a tear this entire time. Peers has looked either aggravated or nervous, Wymble has looked downcast and said very little, and I already know how I’ve been. Downcast, tired, irate, and I can add haunted to that list after yesterday’s events.

I recall learning in school that during times of hardship in Equestria that the most successful business was entertainment. It was because ponies wanted to forget about their predicaments for a while and have a good time. I don’t think that in the past days any of us have even thought about entertainment. When was the last time that any of us have smiled? Maybe Wymble smiled in his sleep, having a good dream and Peers just left. Said something about going for more bark. Better him than me, I don’t want anything left of Cross to be madder at me than it already is.
Wymble has begun to cough at regular intervals, in a very raspy way. What’s worse is he’s asking for water constantly. He doesn’t seem to hear me when I explain that we don’t have enough to give him more than just a quarter of a cup, which I know won’t be able to calm his throat. We’ve been melting snow for water, but with the last embers diminishing quickly we can barely get anything. I’m sorry Wymble, but there’s nothing I can do.

Peers returned about fifteen minutes ago. I asked him if he saw Cross, and he said he did, that the snow still hasn’t covered him. It also turns out that whatever had been eating him had apparently returned at some point, as there is even less of his remains than before. Peers also commented on the lack of tracks around the body. The snow would capture the tracks of the creature, but he said that there were only hoofprints. He did find some inner bark, but very little. We now only have enough to either eat or burn. We can’t do both. He’s the predicament: Wymble needs to eat something, if he doesn’t his body will fall into deep malnutrition and won’t have anything to fight this sickness or keep internally warm. If he doesn’t eat anything it is a death sentence, and he will be dead by morning. If we don’t burn it, however, there is a good chance that we all freeze to death tonight. It is going to be another still night, and thus very, very cold. The three of us huddling together doesn’t give off enough substantial heat, we need a fire.

I asked Peers how he was doing, and his response was that he didn’t need food. I don’t get it; I have not seen that pony eat anything since Cross died. The only explanation I can come up with is that he is just refusing to eat, thinking the fire is more important. Regardless of whether that it true or not, eating happens to be important. I think that we should eat the bark, and give Wymble some chance of surviving the night. Freak chance is better than no chance. The incessant, raspy coughing shows that he’s still with us. I don’t want that to quit without knowing that it isn’t the last noise he’ll make. I’ve known Wymble longer than any other the others; I refuse to see him die.

How is it that Peers still doesn’t want to eat? He keeps insisting that he doesn’t need any food, that he’s fine. He’s becoming aggravated again, so I’m deciding to leave him be for right now. I would keep insisting, except that he has the ability to stay outside longer than any of us, so he must be getting sustenance from somewhere. I wonder if he found something to eat down by where the bark and Cross’s body was. The bark doesn’t give that much energy, and he seems to be doing fine. I wonder if I should ask him. Not today though, maybe tomorrow. The sun has set, another moonless and starless night to encourage the cold to negate and surpass any warmth the day had brought with it.

At least tonight our cabin will be warmer.

Cath

Behind every laugh is a scream waiting to happen.

Comments

[Balancer]

peers....how could you?

[mrheadhopper]

my god i love this shit so much

bear my girlfriend's babies
you can have my cat too

[KillerSteel]

And the spiral continues downward...farther and farther into the black abyss.

[No One Of Nowhere]

I just realized something terriable. A windiego is a cannibal who was cursed and his body warped. (Not in the show.) You can see this in the game Until Dawn. Cross was eaten by something, but with no evidence except for hoofprints, and who is the one who visits him the most? Peer, it's Peer. That's why he's writing wind on the door. He's the windiego. O LY SHIZZILE.