The Singing Scoutmaster: Legend of the Wendigo, The

Deep in the shadowed forests and icy landscapes of the northern wilderness, there exists a creature so terrifying, it can freeze the blood in your veins just by the mention of its name. It is known as the Wendigo—a malevolent spirit born from hunger and greed, and a reminder of the darkness that lurks within the human soul.

The Wendigo appears in times of bitter cold and famine, when the snow piles high and food is scarce. In these desperate moments, when families huddle close to ward off the biting chill, the Wendigo prowls the woods, its body twisted and emaciated, its breath a fog of frost. It is impossibly tall and gaunt, with skin stretched tight over its skeletal frame, pale and cracked like ice. Eyes like burning coals peer from a face of hollowed sockets, and its mouth is lined with jagged, rotting teeth that chatter with anticipation.

But the most terrifying thing about the Wendigo is not its appearance—it is the hunger that drives it. The Wendigo is cursed with an insatiable desire to consume human flesh. No matter how much it eats, it is never satisfied. With each bite, each mouthful, its hunger only grows stronger. The more it devours, the more it craves, its body becoming ever more monstrous with every victim it consumes.

Long ago, it is said, the Wendigo was not a creature of darkness, but a person. A man or woman who, in a moment of dire need, succumbed to the ultimate taboo—cannibalism. The act twisted their soul, transforming them into the very thing they feared. Their humanity withered away, leaving behind a beast driven only by the urge to feed.

The Wendigo's story serves as a warning, a tale passed down through generations around the campfire. It tells of a time when a group of hunters found themselves trapped in a blizzard. Days turned into weeks, and with no food to be found, their thoughts turned to darker solutions. One by one, they vanished into the woods, each hearing a strange voice carried by the wind, calling them deeper into the forest. It was the voice of the Wendigo, whispering promises of survival, urging them to take that one forbidden step.

When only one hunter remained, he, too, succumbed to the hunger. His body twisted and contorted, and his mind, once filled with thoughts of family and home, was replaced by a single desire—to eat. And so, the last hunter became the Wendigo, doomed to wander the wilderness forever, a prisoner of his own greed and desperation.

To this day, they say, the Wendigo still roams the woods, its voice carried by the wind, calling out to the lost and lonely. It lures the unwary deeper into the forest, where the trees close in and the snow muffles all sound. The creature's voice is soft, almost pleading, and filled with promises of warmth and safety. But do not be deceived. If you follow that voice, you may find yourself face to face with the Wendigo's hollow gaze, its frozen breath brushing against your skin as it whispers your name.

And if you're truly unfortunate, you'll feel a sudden, overpowering hunger stir within you—a hunger you cannot explain. That's when you'll know: the Wendigo has chosen you. For the Wendigo does not only consume the flesh of its victims—it spreads its curse, twisting the souls of those it touches, turning them into monsters just like itself.

So beware, if you ever find yourself alone in the woods on a cold, moonless night. Listen carefully to the wind. If it seems to whisper to you, calling you by name, turn away and run as fast as you can. For the Wendigo is always hungry, always searching for its next victim. And once it finds you, it will never let you go.

Remember the story of the Wendigo, and let it be a reminder: never let greed, hunger, or desperation drive you to darkness. For once the Wendigo's curse has taken hold, there is no turning back. You will become the very monster you fear, condemned to wander the frozen wilderness forever, haunted by an unending hunger that can never be satisfied.