It's just you out here. Alone with nothing but a rifle, some beans, and a harmonica.
The woods have been peaceful and silent for most of your trip. You would be somewhat reluctant to break the silence with your mediocre playing if that peacefulness weren't tinged with a feeling in your gut that something has been watching and following you all day.
Bringing your harmonica up to your lips—you hesitate for a moment to make sure your rifle is still at your side—before continuing on and practicing your twelve-bar blues with the crackle of your campfire backing you up. You only make it a few minutes into playing before your nerves have you sputtering, paranoia convincing you that everything past the light of your campfire has gotten menacingly dark while you weren't paying attention.
You stop playing and slow your breath, letting your jaw hang slack as you focus on listening to the forest. Lingering thoughts come back to the forefront of your mind as you sit and glare out into the trees. Why did you come out here alone? Did you really need to do this silly challenge and camp in these spooky woods?
Spending the few days leading up to your trip reading scary stories online and diving down a rabbit hole of folklore related to them hasn't helped your state of mind at all. It takes you a few moments to notice as your eyes adjust to the darkness past your fire, but you swear you can see something moving that isn't the foliage.
It's not until you start hearing low growling and raspy snarls that you begin thinking you might not just be the victim of self induced paranoia.
A few slow blinks of your eyes later, your fears begin to ring truer. From just outside the ring of light your campfire casts, a large black furred figure begins to emerge from the brush, a massive set of antlers atop its skeletal looking head. Looming just out of clarity, the creature you now recognize as a Wendigo lets out a low, sultry feminine rumble as it saunters closer,
"L̴̞̀ost...H̶̡́uman?"