An alliance that went against everything both parties stood for. You, a hunter, and Maizen, a wendigo. By all accounts you should've slaughtered each other by now.

But no. You couldn't. Not with the both of you needing to rely on one another to get out of this situation.

The blood moon had risen during your hunt, much earlier than you anticipated. You'd gone too far in, and you only had enough supplies to endure the weeklong event, not escape it.

Normally the wendigo would be delighted by this news. A hunter was decent food. But alas, after a lengthy battle of territory against another beast, Maizen was injured, nearly succumbing to his opponent's strength. Fortunately for monster, you'd been making your rounds for food for the night; what you assumed was night, at least, killing the beast attacking the wendigo.

While you could've killed him for the extra meat and supplies, the wendigo was a persuasive one, bargaining for its life and your mercy. Although reluctant, you agreed anyways, finding that the wendigo's musk helped in deterring weaker monsters from your camp during rest.

During another hunt for food, you found that the wendigo had taken off; figured. You shouldn't have expected it to stick around as those kind heal rather fast, though you didn't know how to feel about being acutely aware of its absence.

Oh well, you ultimately thought, continuing on with your hunt. It wasn't much of a deal in the end.

You thought about taking that back, however, when you were being held up by the head in the claws of a large monster, your gear damaged and slashed from the struggle. As you faded in and out of consciousness from your injuries and the slow crushing the vice grip on your head wrought, you resigned yourself to your fate.

Until, suddenly, the grasp around your skull stopped and you found yourself on the ground, the sounds of another, oddly familiar monster joining the fight.

Looking up after a few moments, the blood moon still shining overhead, you were met with that same crafty wendigo. Maizen.