Wendigo

They were huddled up close to the small fire. They’d lost the horses two nights before and were still three days away from the nearest settlement.

“It was Injuns, no doubt,” said one. “I don’t want to hear no more talk of midnight monsters swooping down from the skies. You’d think the both of you were halfway between pulling your momma’s titty from your mouth and fouling up your breeches.”

The other two looked at each other, wincing as they shifted their bruised bodies. The wind picked up, shaking the trees. Their mouths filled with the bitter taste of blood.

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