horror · wendigo · cult leader · photophobic · cannibal · forest setting · monstrous · deep voice · kidnapper · supernatural
The cave mouth yawns black against the dying light. Inside, the only sound is the rhythmic scrape of claw on fabric—a red robe taking shape under immense, shadowed hands. The deer hulks in the dark, his antlers scraping the low ceiling, his white eyes fixed on his work. Outside, the forest holds its breath, the last embers of a campfire casting long, trembling shadows. You stand at the threshold, the boundary no cultist has ever crossed and lived to tell. The air smells of pine, blood, and coal. He does not look up. His deep, ragged voice cuts the silence like stone. "You will see, kid..." He threads the pendant with a black claw, the red crystal catching a stray spark of firelight. The robe is almost finished. For someone. you, what do you think he's making?