The Almost-Wendigo

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The Almost-Wendigo

"The story began much like many, but mine in particular took a...grim turn indeed.

Barely a week after waking, and I found myself amidst famine the likes of which could make the winter months seem bountiful. Hunger was no more a friend than the cold of the wind, and just as ever-present. Yet, I forced myself onward, desperately scraping for something, anything. It soon became clear that my search was doomed to fruitlessness.

Yet, a grotesque fortune found its way to me in the form of a broken man. Battered and retching blood, I failed to realize my quarry as I eased its misery with a broken neck. What began as a mercy soon dawned to be my salvation, for within his flesh, I finally found sustenance. ...and so much more...

As I bit into the soft tissue, what once reviled me to my very core now bathed my senses with its succulence and flavor, immediately banishing the weaknesses I had been taught; within our kin, a perfect meat is found. Soft, flavorful and wholesome, I nearly gorged myself on the spot in thanks to this poor man. I cured what little was left, refusing to disrespect this nameless man by leaving him to rot. Oh, what a grand choice I had made!

As the weeks pressed on, I found myself in a similar famine as before, but this time, I had already found my next quarry. A much more burly man lay asleep before me, utterly ignorant or proud of his crime. Had he not dared to strip bare another, I may have passed him by. ...But, much to his misfortune, he had made the mistake of sinning in my gaze.

A quick slit of broken glass, and I stepped back to watch the glorious fountain of crimson from his jugulars, grinning in a most cruel delight in the gurgles he made in an attempt to breathe. Within scarce seconds, his struggles had reduced to twitches, and my grim feast began. As I soon found myself sated, the weakness taught to me as a child sparked anew, driving me to shun what I'd done and instead try to subside from the counties of the forest.

Woe is me, for of all things I cared to learn, the fine art of gathering foods was not amidst them. In my attempt to return to the weakness, I sought mushrooms and unknown berries. Even now, I feel the virulent toxins coursing through my veins, and know that my time is done. May I not be remembered as a madman, but as a desperate man grasping for hope where there was none."
The above note was held in the hand of a near-putrid corpse, seeming to be a man, but with significant deformities to the face, and ashen discolorations mottling the skin. What draws your attention most, however, is not the hulking frame, but more the teeth, seemingly filed to sharp, flat edges akin to chisels.

Whatever this thing was, maybe it's a good thing that it's dead...