Origins – The Hunger in the North

Origins – The Hunger in the North, Part 1

By Jammie Middleton

“Jump”

He leapt, blind, not questioning, but trusting the voice that spoke so clearly in his head. He felt a sharp pang in his back, a searing fire that only momentarily distracted him from the fact that he was falling, falling much further than he had expected. He had leapt off a crevice, and as his body landed with thud against a Fir tree, he screamed in pain. He flipped twice before colliding with another branch, and his leg made a terrible cracking noise on impact. He crashed through the canopy, pine needles and branches tearing his face. He kept falling, branches clawing at him until he finally came to a rest. Far above, he could hear the windigo howling in fury, angry about it’s prey getting away. A wave of nausea overtook him then and Kawacatoose found himself losing consciousness…

Kawacatoose shifted his weight gingerly as he lay propped like a child’s toy, spread eagle on a pile of pine boughs eight feet above the snowdrifts. Any momentary sense of relief he might have felt was banished immediately as blinding pain shot through his left leg. The pain was all it took to drive Kawacatoose into a panic; and he began flailing wildly, desperately trying to right himself in his makeshift cradle. It was more than the branches could take. He came crashing down in the snow below, the wind rushing out of his lungs while he simultaneously attempted to gasp for breath, causing a painful searing in his lungs. None of this was as agonizing as the searing hot fire radiating from his shattered left leg. The barbarian jerked his head upwards, attempting to rise up in the snow, but as his weight settled on the broken leg he yelped, and white spider webs pulsed in front of his eyes as consciousness fled from his body and darkness overtook him.

Kawacatoose dreamed then. He was there, back at the top of the plateau, floating on the winds above the hunting camp. He could see them all, his friends, still alive at the moment. Kawacatoose knew all too well what would happen next. It slid from the shadows, slowly but confidently closing in on its prey. He screamed for them to get away, pleaded with the creature to leave them alone, but no one heard him. This was, after all, a dream. They rose one by one from their slumber, and prostrated themselves before the windigo. It tore into them, one by one, consuming their faces, their organs, cracking their bones between its teeth. It bathed in the gruesome ichor, laughing as it lapped up the blood of his kinfolk, of everything that mattered to Kawacatoose. He could do nothing but float and watch, incapable of turning away.

He saw them, the otahchuk, rising up from the steaming husks of their bodies. This was the thinking half of his people’s souls, the eternal self that made them human. Frail Abooksigun rose first, his hands reaching upward and outward. Then kind Mingan, looking around in shock at the new state of affairs. Behind him rose brave Nixkamich. All of the village hunting party slowly began to drift upwards, their eyes locking on Kawacatoose for the first time. The otahchuk were bound for the village of the dead.

The windigo looked at him then. A pair of empty, ravenous eyes tinged in equal parts hunger and savagery. It grinned wide, and as the blood dripped from it’s chin, the others began to rise. That’s when the horror began to overtake him. This isn’t supposed to happen, thought Kawacatoose. This wasn’t possible.

They rose from the mangled bodies, vicious caricatures of the noble spirits of his friends. These were the other, the unnamed, savage half of the tribesmen’s souls. These were the instinctual side of the villagers, the source of anger and fear, of lust and hunger. They were the animal inside each of us, the spirit inside every creature. But this shouldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. The others die with the body.

But rose they did, staring greedily at the departing souls. They were restless, rocking from left to right, transfixed by the otahchuk. The way their eyes followed the spirits reminded him of a cat stalking their prey, and after just a couple seconds, the first one leapt into the air.

Nixkamich’s face contorted in agony as the creature sunk its claws into his calf. He struggled with it, fighting desperately to pry it away, but the claws were in too tight. Slowly, viciously it dragged Nixkamich downward, his eyes pleading with Kawacatoose for help. But Kay was frozen, incapable of movement.

They converged on Nixkamich, tearing and rending the spirit apart, consuming the ghost flesh with greed. They yelped and barked at each other, desperate to satiate their hunger, to each be the first to get their fill. But soon, there was nothing left of Nixkamich. Unsatisfied, they moved on to the next, and the next, sparing nothing When there were no more souls left, there were just the others. They were windigo, terrible, bestial shells of the people they once were. His people would never see the village of the dead, they would never rise again. That was when they turned their focus on Kawacatoose.

He began to sink, slowly descending towards the waiting teeth and claws. He suddenly found his voice, and he screamed, panic stricken, desperate. He grasped futilely towards the moon and the stars, praying beyond hope that he could find purchase, anything to pull him back up away from the horror that waited below.

He saw it then, a glimmer of movement against the moon, and Kawacatoose begged it with his eyes, pleaded for rescue. It grew larger, ever larger, until it filled his field of vision, blotting out the moon. As it drew closer he began to make out it’s form, grey and white, an immense bird that rode on the wind and carried with it the snow, spreading its enormous wings outward, ever outward…

He woke up screaming, reaching out desperately for rescue. In front of him, silhouetted in the pre dawn light was a woman, her grey cloak fluttering in the breeze, flapping wide like the wings of a great bird. She broke into a sprint when she saw him, drawing in close, a look of concern in her eyes as she drew near. Kawacatoose whimpered once and then felt himself rolling backwards inside his own head, slipping back into unconsciousness.

To be continued… Part 2