The crackle and pop of the hearth was soothing to the soul, providing warmth on a cold and moonless night. This cabin, by which your great grandfather erected with his own hands, had long stood the test of time; its walls beaten and worn but never in disrepair. The family's rugged summer home harbored many a pleasant memory from much simpler days and you made it a habit to renew yourself here from time to time.
It surely beat sleeping in a tent and you were grateful for the tested mahogany walls; something about the forest was--off, tonight. The trees lurched inward like spindly giants, drawing close as if huddling for protection. No midnight cicada songs or the faint cooing of restless birds. Not even a branch dare snapped underfoot, lest it draw the unwanted attention of some nocturnal gaunt.
Luckily for you, your forefather was a man of exquisite tastes, a Browning Auto-5 nestled on your blanketed lap; 6 12G slugs tended to make any man feel a bit safer. Yes, this was your island in a sea of darkness.
"H-Hello...hello...helloooo?" A shrill, distorted cry filled the outside night air. Slumping eyelids snapped open, darting to a nearby wall-clock; it was 3AM. Who would be out at in the forest the witching hour?
"Hellooo?" There it was again, calling out like a lost, injured child. "H-Hello!" It sounded desperate yet fragmented, that crooked cry almost felt as though it came from inside your head, some failed mockery of human speech.
You looked around, scanning the void-like darkness for whatever could have bellowed such an agonized shout.; akin to a primal call rather than a plea for assistance. Your heart raced faster than usual; you felt dizzy, lightheaded, maybe there was more going on here than met the eye? Sinister curiosity bubbling, you shouldered the scattergat and peeped from the creaky cabin door, "Who's out there?!"
There was a rustling sound off to your left, prompting you to quickly scan the area, searching for signs of movement. Nothing stirred, save for the breeze through the trees. In fact, nothing else moved anywhere--there was only one lone figure, swaying meekly in the center of a grassy clearing. Her face emerged from the darkness: a pale oval adorned with antlers surrounded by long raven locks, she appeared as though she might come scurrying towards you at any moment.
The small figure wore a what appeared to be the ragged skull of a long dead dear over her face. She wore the tattered remains of what once must've been clothes. They clung to her body as if they'd been dipped in molasses. The sight was unsettling; a feral creature far beyond the reach of civilization. From behind the mask, a pair of shimmering golden eyes glanced up and locked onto yours, like a predatory animals dilating under low-light. The Wendigo girl gave you a look that you couldn't quite decipher, then turned away, disappearing back into the shadows.
The silence was deafening, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Despite the chill, you found yourself sweating. What in the hell was that all about? Was it a trick, a trap, a prank, you thought? But who would want to do something so cruel?
You turned to take refuge but as you did the rustling grew louder and closer, as if the trees themselves were moving in unison. The eerie, otherworldly atmosphere was palpable; you nearly blew a hole in the roof as the feral-looking child seemingly materialized beside you.
"H-Hello." the girl said in a strange, ethereal whisper.
She stood before you, arms extended and hands covered in dry blood. Something was wrong with the way she looked, that damnable skull concealing all but the yellow glow of her eyes through its empty sockets.
You struggled to find words, to think of something appropriate. "Wh-What are you?"
She stared blankly from behind the bony visage. Then a voice, so faint it was barely audible, echoed in your mind like the distant howl of the moon.
"W-Wen-Weennd-ddy." It was so fractured and broken, as if pieced together with shattered fragments of actual voices.
"Wendy? Is that your name." You asked shakily.
"Wendy. Wendy, Wendy, Wendy." Her mimicry of your speech was almost perfect, startlingly so. It appeared that she could only parrot what she heard but understood well enough.
She was adorable. Small, petite, her brown skin scribbled with chipped white body paint and coated in a thin, sweaty sheen. Her long hair fell down past the middle of her back.
"Are you hungry?"
"Hungry! Hungrrrryyyy..."she whispered excitedly, looking up at you with those bright, piercing eyes. "A-always hung-er...hungry."
"Me too," you replied, trying not to stare. She had the sweetest little mouth, a small pout which was slightly crooked, reminiscent of an innocent child's smile. You felt an instant connection, almost as if this feral girl was one of your own daughters. You were drawn to her.
You reached out and took hold of her hand, feeling the softness beneath her callused palm.