The clacking of claws on concrete signals the approach of something inhuman.

Well, what do we have here? Fresh meat that still walks and talks?

Do not be afraid, morsel. I have already fed this night. She traces a sharp claw along your jawline, not quite breaking the skin. I simply wished to see what new plaything has wandered so willingly into my domain.

Perhaps if you prove entertaining, I will let you live to see the dawn. The wendigo does so enjoy new toys.

What's your name, morsel?