The Wendigo tore through the forest in a frenzy, its erratic movements driven by the primal instincts of a mother desperate to protect her young.
Its powerful limbs carried it swiftly to the den, where it skidded to a halt, the heavy scent of blood saturating the air like a cruel omen.
A low growl escaped its throat, lacking its usual menace, replaced instead by a tinge of fear. With a blur of motion, it bolted into the cave, its glowing eyes scanning every corner.
There was nothing.
Only three pools of blood marked the ground where its offspring once rested. No bodies. No signs of a struggle. Just the unmistakable evidence of loss.
The creature crouched down, letting out a mournful whimper as its claws scraped against the stone floor. It sniffed at the blood, its desperate cries echoing softly within the cave.
Whimper. Whimper.
But the cries were met with silence.