He was on the trail. Not too far away the Wendigo is. The blood from the brutal shot to the chest definitely did some damage, or at least hopefully did some damage. Can never under-estimate their strength. Cut an arm off, seems they can lift twice as much with one arm. Shoot them five times in the leg, they walk as if they got nothing to worry about, and oh God are they fast. If they ran in front of a spotlight, there wouldn't be a flicker of a shadow that existed. The blood was fading into the snow as evening became night. Can't waste time. Either he would go after or huddle in for the night. It was too much adrenaline pumping within his veins for him to rest. All he thought was, "kill". He must keep going. This is the last Wendigo. He has fought off a group single handed, but this last one is the one that killed his wife and son. Can't let it get away, not when I'm this close to getting it between the eyes.
Wandering through the forest wondering if he is still on the trace amount of blood, he stops. In the moonlit silent night a sharp, piercing screech echoes through the air. Looking up, he sees only yards ahead until the forest turns dark as if it were to enclose him. The Wendigo is somewhere nearby. Again, the screech sounded, only louder this time and in the opposite direction. Drawing up his rifle, he looks down his iron sights and begins to twist and turn in the same spot until he picks a random point in the dark. Silence...
The shot rang throughout the winter forest. An unbearable scream came out of the darkness. The Wendigo was hit and started to crash through the trees and shrubs in the forest with the sound of it running away fading. He didn't want it to get away so he started chasing it. Deciding to reload his gun on the run he pulls bullets out of his jacket pocket and begins to load up. After getting the last casing in he flips the bolt, ready to fire.
After chasing the Wendigo for what seemed to be a long time, it was oddly quiet except for him running in the crunchy snow. Slowing down realizing there was no more sound to chase, he stops. Gathers his surroundings. Can't see or hear anything. This didn't make sense to him. Here he is, now looking down, seeing the Wendigo's tracks through the snow. After taking a few steps just staring at the indentations in the snow, they stop. His two feet were inside the footprint of the Wendigo, side by side. He looks up. The Wendigo immediately came down from the tree branch pouncing on him, shoving him beneath the snow and into the fallen dead leaves along with the frozen ground.
He just layed there. No movement, no sound, no breath. The Wendigo threw the rifle into the darkness and stood above him looking at his back side as he lay in the snow. It came down with it's back arching forward and it's face nearing the back of his head and let out a roar in his ear. Spit coming down as it's breath is showing. After kicking a few times at his leg, the Wendigo took it's long, pale-grey, skeleton-like hand and grabbed his head and flipped him over into the snow like a rag doll. Once again, picking him up by the head the Wendigo dragged his body along the snow through the forest. As the man was being dragged away, he opened up his eyes.
Faking his death, the man calmly reaches into his pants pocket and grasps a hunting knife. Pulling it out, he quietly flicks it open to reveal the blade. Being dragged still, he lifts his arm with the knife and quickly punctures through the Wendigo's arm. The Wendigo let out another cry, this time louder. The Wendigo not knowing what was going on, the man then rips the knife down through the arm. Blood was coming down the arm and onto the man's face making warm, small red streams across his face and was dropped on the ground expectedly. Before he could even stand up, the Wendigo whipped it's other arm across the chest of the man and knocks him back into a tree.
The Wendigo let out a fierce cry as it pulled the knife out of its arm and chucked it at the man. The man is now sitting slouched against the tree almost as if paralyzed. The Wendigo took large leaps towards the man and picked him up. Now with a choke hold on the man, it holds him up against the tree squeezing it's hand into a fist. The man's throat becomes smaller as his head becomes warm and deep red. He starts to flail his arms around trying to knock the Wendigo's arm away. That didn't work. It seemed to only make the Wendigo enjoy the moment even more. The man then takes his foot and launches it as high as he can and hits the Wendigo in the arm. The same arm that had the knife wound. The Wendigo again drops him on the ground letting out tiny roars like it was pissed off.
The man then took a stick that fell off the tree that he was struck into and held it. The Wendigo now became smart and grabbed the man's legs and flung him into some more trees. The man again hit his back against a tree and was now in extreme pain. His back felt as if his body was a hammock and an elephant sat in it and layed there again. The Wendigo again grabbed his legs, but the man kicked his legs free and struck the Wendigo in the face. The man kept kicking his legs fighting through the pain as adrenaline pumped in even stronger. The Wendigo got back at the man by swatting at his legs turning him around so now they are face to face. The Wendigo again pressed the man down into the ground now covering the man's bloody face with it's boney hand. The man took the stick he had and again stabbed the Wendigo in the other arm. Letting out a cry, the man retrieved the stick and kept swinging back at it's arm. With a few hits, the Wendigo retreated back up, but now stood on the man applying massive pressure on the stomach by letting its body weight sit on the one leg a top the man.
The man took the stick and stabbed the leg. It did nothing though as it broke after being used many times. The man started to breathe heavily as he just stared at the Wendigo's dead eyes. Losing his vision, his life-time was quickly fading into the night. He had no choice. Using all his might he had left for that moment, he gripped the Wendigo's leg with both hands and pulled his face and the leg closer to each other until it touched his face, and then bit the Wendigo. The man clinched his teeth together on the cold leg skin and pierced through it to have blood and other body fluids squirt out like a beating heart being cut open. The skin was tough, but not tough enough to stop the man from ripping the skin off it's leg. The Wendigo let out a long scream and the man spat out the skin and took his hand, stuck it inside the fresh wound and started to peel the flesh off the leg. The Wendigo then jumped on the man and crushed his arm. A strong snapping sensation has arisen in the man's arm and he could not move it. The Wendigo let out another screech and jumped on the man again. The man now couldn't move his torso as his ribs crunched together and started to pierce through his chest.
Both the man and the Wendigo are now at the same levels of hurt, and the same level of toughness as they still battle it out. But the Wendigo is still stronger with only an arm and leg ripped open while the man's torso was compressed and crushed. Picking up the man, the Wendigo again picked him up by the throat and pressed him against a tree. And again, squeezing the throat, but this time pressing his throat flat against the tree trying to stretch it out. The Wendigo, unexpecting, is stabbed through the chest. The man had retrieved his knife from the snow and put it in his pocket before he was tossed into the other trees for a second time. The man then pulled the knife out of its chest and sidewinded it into the base of the neck. The Wendigo let out another pain-filled cry, but still grasped the throat of the man. The Wendigo then pulled it's free arm back and straightened out it's long, narrow, sharp nails and struck the man through the heart and screamed out loud with it's spit flying at the man's face, figuring victory. The man, breathing hard with his last moments, let out a battle cry and windmilled the knife straight up the bottom of the Wendigo's mouth going through the flesh, skin, jaw and tongue. The man's knife hand was pressing against the bleeding flesh as blood was dripping from the Wendigo's mouth and neck. The blade was shown inside its mouth as the Wendigo looked furiously at the dying man, knowing it was over for him. But it wasn't. The man with last energy, turned the blade sounding a mashing sound of fluids splashing and bones cracking.
The Wendigo released it's grip from the man and started to wobble backwards slowly. The man tried to hold onto the knife, but couldn't as he fell from the grip and hit the ground with an agonizing grunt from the pain all over his body to the blood that was flowing out from his veins. The man laid on the red snow and watched the Wendigo try to grab the handle of the knife. The Wendigo couldn't grab it as it started to stumble down to its knees as blood was pouring out like a leaking faucet. The man, thinking the Wendigo would die, savored the moment with a concealed smile. After pulling the knife out after many attempts, the Wendigo's blood came out more profusely and it started to gargle as it started to bubble up through the mouth. The man saw the stock of the rifle partially buried in the snow just feet away from him and started to crawl towards it with little effort. The Wendigo took its hands and tried to cover the gapping stab, but it just added to the pain. It fell on it's side with its eyes looking towards the man gargling it's blood in the mouth making clicking sounds inside as the man held the rifle on the ground aiming it right between the Wendigo's tear-filled eyes.
The man stared at the Wendigo trying to breathe calmly. The snow turning into red blobs for both of them as vitality doesn't exist at this point. Wrapping his finger around the trigger, he slowly squeezes till the rifle shoots and kicks back. The shot echoed through the crisp winter night with no other sound to ever emit after. The man is jerked back from the shot and is turned over facing away from the Wendigo. The man didn't see the Wendigo's eyes roll up like he wanted to, but saw it's head whiplash back. Letting out his breath, he shallowly sighed and watched the silent winter moonlit night turn into pitch black and whispered, "ain't dead."
Author Notes: Note: There are two ideas of a Wendigo, or in some cultures called a, Skin Walker. It is either deer-like or human-like. For this story, it is human-like for the idea that it is most recognized in stories (from what I've looked into) as human.