S1:E1 The Wendigo Part 1 - The Hunger

In the winter of 1878, a First Nations Cree by the name of Swift Runner took his family to a hunting camp in the forest. Three months later, he emerged from the woods alone. His wife, six children, his brother and mother in-law, all dead. Swift Runner would state they all succumbed to starvation and the harsh winter.

That's the story you know.

Here's the story you don't.

KDWebster.com 

Transcript

SPEAKER_02 0:20

Well, hi. I'm Pandora. Some of you may know me. Or at least you might think you do. You might even think that since I'm here, I have a story to tell. Well, I do. Quite a few, in fact. But for now, this isn't about me. Not yet, anyway. For now, allow me to welcome you to Scratch's Urban Legends. Scratch, trust me. This is not the devil you know. Chapter one The Wendigo Part One. The Hunger He was a man once. He knew love. He knew loss. Now he only knows the ever-growing hunger and the never-ending need to feed.

SPEAKER_00 1:30

Alberta, Canada.

SPEAKER_04 1:34

Then in the winter of eighteen seventy-eight, a First Nations Cree by the name of Swift Runner took his family to a hunting camp in the forest. Three months later, he emerged from the woods alone. His wife, six children, his brother and a mother-in-law, all dead. Swiftrunner would state they all succumbed to starvation and the harsh winter. Yet Swiftrunner, a big and thick man, at well over six feet, appeared healthy, with no signs of being underfed at all. Still, the locals were willing to give the Cree trapper the benefit of the doubt. Swiftrunner had always carried himself as a no nonsense type of person. And while not the friendliest of sorts, he was at least amiable. He was a proud man, as most trappers were. At first. But then the nightmares began. His panic-inducing screams would wake the villagers at night, and his behavior became disturbingly erratic during the day. It took a toll, not only on Swift Runner, but on the townsfolk. He'd make uncharacteristic remarks, the uncomfortably close. There were times he would sniff the air in a person's direction while walking towards them. One villager reported how she awoke in the middle of the night. She stated that Swift Runner was there in her bedroom, standing over her sleeping husband.

SPEAKER_01 4:02

I woke up thinking it was my Jonathan. Jonathan tends to wake up in the dead of night, you see. But no, but not that time. But it was Swift Runner. The Indian was just. Well, he was just standing there. Just breathing. Breathing with his mouth all open. Jonathan. Looking down at my husband. Only him. As if I wasn't there. And he had this look in his eyes. I don't know how to describe it. The way he was looking at my Jonathan. Like a man being called to supper.

SPEAKER_04 4:43

The final straw was when Swift Runner attempted to lead a group of children into the very woods he had emerged from weeks prior, yet demanded he was doing no such thing and claimed no recollection of trying to round up the children during the night while their parents were sleeping. The villagers began to speak of demon possessions, and suspicions grew as to what really happened to Swift Runner's family. William MacDonald of the Northwest Mounted Police.

SPEAKER_03 5:16

A formal inquiry was launched into the disappearance of his relatives. The investigation would lead us to Swift Runner's winter camp. There we found a shallow grave. Swiftrunner's oldest son was buried within, a victim of the bitter winter. But his was the only grave we could find. It was the scene beyond that would horrify the police. Bones, human remains, and rotted flesh were littered around the camp. Some of the bones had been snapped in half and hollowed, as if the marrow had been sucked out.

SPEAKER_04 5:57

Swiftrunner would be arrested, put on trial, and hanged for murder. But not before telling a fantastic tale. Swiftrunner stated he was possessed by the Wendigo, a malevolent and cannibalistic spirit well known by the First Nations Algonquian tribes. Once taken over, Swiftrunner stated he became the physical manifestation of the Wendigo. This gave him an all-consuming hunger and an insatiable taste for human flesh.

SPEAKER_03 6:36

Most in attendance did not believe Swift Runner's account. Look. Seriously. He tried taking our children into the woods. He admitted to eating his own family. I don't care who made him do it to his.

SPEAKER_04 7:07

After only 20 minutes of deliberation, Swift Runner was sentenced to death by hanging. But there were some who did believe, some who knew all too well that Swiftrunner really was consumed with the hunger.

SPEAKER_00 7:28

One in particular, who Swift Runner relayed an unbelievable story to.

SPEAKER_04 7:36

As Chief Raincloud stood before the gallows, he and Swift Runner exchanged one last glance. He saw the condemned man mouth a word in his native tongue that would translate to remember. Chief Raincloud said nothing, but gave a single nod before he lowered his head and walked away. The night before the execution, Chief Raincloud was requested by Swift Runner for a final visit. The two sat in silence within Swiftrunner's rustic metal and wood cell. Although the cell was equipped with a bed and a chair, both men sat on the dirt floor. Swiftrunner ran his fingers through the cool, flower-like dirt, as if tracing shapes. Chief Raincloud recognized that one of the figures resembled a deer, antlers and all. Only it stood on two legs instead of four. It was then that Swift Runner relayed the tale that led him to a jail cell and a hangman's noose. This is the account as it was told to me, Chief Raincloud. Alberta, Canada. Four months ago. So very hungry. So cold. But I can't go back empty-handed. They are hungry too. Pull it together, Swift Runner. You are only yelling at the wind. And at least they are warm. At least I hope they are warm. Never known it to be this cold this sudden in prior winters. So hungry. Do not understand. Here. Should be plenty of animal.

SPEAKER_05 9:59

Food. That is, until the white man arrived. But even with white men always had these hunting grounds to turn to.

SPEAKER_04 10:13

But all day, all day, no tracks in the snow. No droppings. No fur against branches.

SPEAKER_05 10:22

And here I am. Shouting at the wind again. The wind is either shouting back or ignoring me for something more important to howl at. Need to keep my calm.

SPEAKER_04 10:36

Traps checked and double-checked. All good and set. As they are meant to be.

SPEAKER_05 10:43

All sturdy, all well hidden. No holes in the nets. All day.

SPEAKER_04 10:57

None of this matters. No food. Empty traps. Empty nets. And now the darkness comes, and the snow still falls. Swiftrunner was in a dense section of the woods, plenty of underbrush and tree cover, but it provided little protection against the biting cold and the howling wind. Need to go back. Try again tomorrow. The cold was seeping into the bones. Hunger was already gnawing, and he was running low on water. Back to camp. Wait, what is that? Swiftrunner watched as tall shadows formed in the distance. They danced off each other, swaying, bending, reaching. Fire? A campfire? Has to be. Explains the shadows. Has to be a fire. But how? Yes, it is a fire.

SPEAKER_05 12:15

Did not know of any other hunting party in this part of the woods, though. I had been alone all day. Well, maybe they have food. Maybe they will share.

SPEAKER_04 12:30

Swift Runner started to draw towards the light, but then hesitated. Something didn't sit right in the pit of his stomach. How is anyone here? But I am so cold, so hungry. So perhaps a little closer. As Swift Runner stepped ever nearer, he could make out a man seated upon a large stone near the fire. A folded-up blanket between him and the stone. Strange looking hat, strange outfit. Firelight to my face. His back is to me. Can't make out the color of what he wears. He was close enough, however, to see the stranger's hands rubbing to the heat of the fire. No mistake, it is a white man. That smell. Is that rabbit? Yes, I can see it now, twisting over the fire on that supported stick. Why didn't I smell it sooner? Why didn't I see it sooner? Swiftrunner placed a hand to the hilt of his knife. He was concealed enough behind an expansive tree to not be seen, but close enough to not miss a well-thrown knife to a white man's back. His stomach grumbled, his mouth salivated. The rabbit smelled delicious, accented by the burning wood and embers. The hunter hadn't eaten since the last sunset, and even that was a half piece of cooked fish. The animal would provide only a small meal for his family, but enough to tie them over for another day. Maybe the white man would have shared, or maybe he wouldn't. One hard throw and maybe it wouldn't matter. He took a careful half-step towards the clearing.

SPEAKER_05 14:40

Whistling. No way he heard me. Impossible. But the whistling. I've heard that before. Last year, just outside of the fort of the white men, their children were singing to the tune. I didn't know the words. I don't understand all of the white man's tongue. I can barely speak it. Just enough to get by. Enough to get what I want.

SPEAKER_04 15:10

Sometimes, just enough is more than enough. As abruptly as the whistling began, it ceased. Swiftrunner remained in place as the white man turned the rabbit over. Drops of fat dripped into the fire and sizzled. Swiftrunner involuntarily licked his lips as the man sliced a piece of meat off the leg and gave it a taste. Oh yeah. Now that's some good cooking right there. Swiftrunner wondered why the white man was talking to himself. Until he realized he wasn't. You can come out now. I know you're there. Swiftrunner didn't move. It wasn't that he didn't understand what the white man had said. He understood. He just didn't want to listen. The white man cut off another slice of the rabbit and tossed it in his mouth. Swiftrunner started wondering if it tasted as good as it smelled, as good as the white man was making it out to be. Don't worry, I won't bite.

SPEAKER_03 16:25

I mean, unless you taste as good as this rabbit here, then, well, that'd be a different story altogether.

SPEAKER_04 16:34

The white man reached down for what looked like a metal dish. He sliced a chunk of flank and caught it with the plate.

SPEAKER_03 16:45

Just kidding, my fine fellow. I'm no cannibal. That just wouldn't be civilized, now would it? Besides, who'd want to eat a man with this scrumptious, succulent morsel here? I have plenty, and I bet you're hungry.

SPEAKER_04 17:05

The white man is right. I'm so hungry. Can't sneak up on him now. I either go back to camp starving, and with no food to feed my family, or partake of the fresh cooked rabbit, get my strength up, and decide what my next step will be. I will come out. But do not try anything, or I will gut you where you sit. Swiftrunner stepped out, but took a wide arc around five trees before revealing himself to the white man's face. Ah, there we are. A big and strapping fellow, aren't you? Swiftrunner's jaw fell open, and his head cocked to the side. He paused briefly before continuing to slowly approach the man by the fire. The strange man was now speaking the tongue of the Algonquin. He was dressed in soft clothes worn by people Swift Runner had seen visiting the fort. People referred to by a word he had only heard once aristocratic. He wanted to ask how the man could speak his tongue so well. He wanted to ask why a man dressed so gentle was in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night. He wanted to ask this and more, but all he could think about was the roasted rabbit that was now within arm's reach. Well now, come, cop a squat and have a plate. Swiftrunner cautiously took the warm plate of cut meat from the man's offering hand, but then he quickly put a piece in his mouth. He'd had rabbit before, many times in fact, but never had the taste exploded with flavor across his tongue. Never had rabbit tasted so exquisite. Or any other meat for that matter. And the fire. It felt so warm. Swiftrunner felt no chill at all. In fact, even the bitter wind had ceased to howl. Good, right? Swiftrunner gave him a hard look. He was a slender white man, pale white, in fact, black hair that sat on his shoulders beneath the strange, round but squared off hat, a thin line of hair across the top lip. Even sitting down, he could tell the man was tall. The trapper took another bite which tasted every bit as good as the first. Oh, I see now that I'd better cut you another piece. Swiftrunner didn't realize until after he heard the man in the fine clothes speak that he'd already finished his plate. The pale faced man with strange clothes wiped his hands on the blanket he was sitting on, then sliced more meat for Swift Runner. He quickly accepted another helping. So who are you? The white man stared at Swift Runner through the fire, locking onto his eyes. Well, there was a time people would call me Star of the Morning. But nowadays I just go by. Scratch. I am called Swift Runner. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. That is a strange covering you wear on your head. And you're quite monotoned for such a big guy with a deep voice.

SPEAKER_03 20:57

The gentle giant type, huh? Anyway, my hat, they call it a John Bull top hat. Can't say I'm a fan of the hat, or John Bull for that matter.

SPEAKER_04 21:10

I would personally prefer a wider brimmed hat. And that John Bull? The man's a bit too stout for my taste. I mean, sure, he's not a real man, a figment of everyone's imagination, I guess. But apparently he's a trendsetter across the pond, so it is what it is. And before you ask, purple is my favorite color. It's why I'm dressed head to toe in it, including the God's awful John Bull top hat.

SPEAKER_03 21:42

I just said God is awful, didn't I? Oh well, no takebacks.

SPEAKER_04 21:51

What are you doing here, star of the morning? Scratch. Just dear old Scratch.

SPEAKER_03 21:58

Oh, and just walking to And fro across this great land. Collecting an essence here, making a deal for an essence there. The essence is well, it's the essence of my trade, you see. In fact, there's this place called Denver in a place called Colorado. No no.

SPEAKER_04 22:20

What are you doing here in these woods, all alone? Oh, I see. Well, I came to meet a man out here. Offer him a deal. Scratch smiled and gave Swiftrunner a wink and nudged the air with his elbow, to which Swiftrunner only frowned. What kind of a deal? Scratch looked through the fire once more. Only for some reason this time it seemed to Swift Runner as if the pale man's face was in the fire, not just on the other side of it. What if I told you I could look at you and know your deepest desire and make it come true? Hmm. Okay. Can you go away? Hey! How rude, sir! Uh, not you. You fed me. I mean, your people, the white men. Oh, then? Those people aren't my people. And yet, you wear the same skin. Scratch glanced at the back of one of his hands, tugging at the skin, as if he could pull it right off. Oh, that's just for show.

SPEAKER_03 23:46

And just for now. But yes, I can. I can make them go away, sure. But that's not what you really want.

SPEAKER_04 23:55

Yes, it is. Scratch tossed a stick into the fire, embers exploding and shooting into the air. No, it is not. Who are you to tell me what I really want? No. What you truly want is food to feed your family. It's been a long winter, hasn't it? Swiftrunner didn't want to admit it out loud, but Star of the Morning was right. Every member of my family is counting on me. They would love to even have just a tiny taste of the cooked meal I just had. Was it wrong, however, that Swift Runner desired the rest of the rabbit for himself?

SPEAKER_03 24:45

Now I'm sure your eyes were too focused on this cooked meal here to notice that bear fur behind you.

SPEAKER_04 24:52

Just over to your left there. Swiftrunner turned to see that the pale man was correct once more. A huge bear skin was draped over a heap. Swiftrunner pulled back a section. His eyes went wide at the sight of two deer standing within a metal cage. More where those came from too. How many more? Enough to keep your family fed through the winter. And what must I do for these to be mine, star of the morning? Scratch. Just dear old Scratch. Well, first there's a matter of the contract, you know, to make it legal and binding. I just so happen to have one here in my breast pocket. Those words brought forth some very unsavory thoughts to Swift Runner's mind. It's a very basic contract, you see. Run of the mill, actually. Contract. I'm sure you can legal. But he can't. These were words I've heard before. When the white man first appeared when they said they had come in peace. Where is that contract? Yes, piece by piece. More and more of them came. But nope. Showing pieces of their paper, calling them contracts and agreements.

SPEAKER_03 26:11

Trousers.

SPEAKER_04 26:11

The white men saying it meant they now legally owned the land. No, this pale man is up to something. Maybe he's trying to get me to sell these woods to him in exchange for the deer. The woods aren't mine to sell or give away. Mine or anyone else's. And they are most definitely not for the white man to own. But these two deer, my family needs food. Scratch started patting his person, as if hoping to find something. Pretty sure I have something to write with. Hope I didn't leave it with Pandora and Scratch gurgled as a knife hurled into his throat. Blood gushed, and Scratch fell backward, tumbling over the large rock. Swiftrunner rushed him, plucked the blade from the throat, and plunged it into Scratch's left eye. Scratch's arms fell to his side. His other eye stared blankly. Swiftrunner removed the knife from Scratch's eye socket and wiped the blood from the knife onto his pants. He watched as Scratch rolled off the stone into a heap on the grass and soil.

SPEAKER_05 27:31

One less white man. The rabbit. No need for this to waste.

SPEAKER_04 27:41

He sliced strip after strip of meat, alternating between putting some on the plate and some in his mouth. The pile on the plate remained small, while he gorged himself upon the delectable meat. Soon all that was on the plate was in him as well. He eyeballed the man in fine clothes laying in the grass and considered. Maybe he will be missed, maybe he won't.

SPEAKER_05 28:10

Maybe he will be a warning for white men in fine clothes to not be in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night.

SPEAKER_04 28:18

Despite eating all that remained of the rabbit, Swift Runner felt he had room for more. He stood and turned to the two deer in the cage. One for me, one for my family. He did a walk around the contraption, eyeing the bars. Metal, thick and shiny by the light of the fire. But where was the lock? Where was the opening? The pale man got the deer in there somehow. Star of the morning. How did you get them in there? And how do I get them out? The name is Scratch. Swiftrunner whipped around, his heart pounding in his chest, his legs buckled. The pale man stood just on the other side of the fire, his throat and eye none the worse for wear. Only blood stains to mark the spots where the knife had penetrated. Blood's going to be impossible to get out of this jacket, you know. Swiftrunner scrambled backwards, but was met by the trunk of a tree. He started shaking his head furiously. No. Yes. But but how? Told you. I'm not one of them. No. Yes. Keep shaking your head so hard like that you'll snap your own neck. You you were dead. Funny. I don't feel dead to me. No. You realize, of course, we can do this no to yes thing all night, right? Swiftrunner wanted to sprint away but couldn't get his legs to respond. He tried to reach for his knife, but no matter how he strained, his fingers just couldn't reach the hilt. And to think, had you simply signed the contract, you'd be on your way to your family by now.

SPEAKER_03 30:30

As for what I would have wanted in return, just to be invited to a home cooked meal. Well, that and your essence. Well, the essence of your family members as well.

SPEAKER_04 30:43

Scratch walked around the fire towards Swiftrunner, who still couldn't move. He ran a finger across the big man's throat. This gesture had caused Swiftrunner to stop shaking his head. So now what to do?

SPEAKER_03 31:02

What to do? You didn't sign the contract, so nothing I can do about that.

SPEAKER_04 31:08

And you ate all of my rabbit too. I will make mark on contract. Scratch turned to gaze into the fire, hands clasped behind his back as if deep in contemplation. Oh that ship has sailed, as Kenny would say. And before you ask, Kenny is my Wraith. Now be grateful he's not What are you, Scratch? A spirit? So now you say my name. And I'm a lot more than that. A hell of a lot more. But that does give me an idea. Scratch turned back to Swift Runner and locked eyes with him. You got me thinking about this legend your people have. But for now, get some sleep. You've had quite the day. And with that, Swift Runner's world faded around him. He couldn't recall to me how he ended up back at the camp with his family. But he did state how he remembered everything else. He remembered every scream, and he remembered every bite. The following year, I would go back to the site of his burial at night during the winter, when I was sure not to be followed or asked questions. I dug up his grave. There was no body.

SPEAKER_02 33:04

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