'How longer until meat?' The Wendigo thought to himself. The SCP Foundation had captured it for way too long that tally marks on the wall faded into new cuts. Human contact still remains seldom, but when it happens… Blood. 'How many had I been shoot? Flesh still there. Skin has marks.' SCP-323: The Wendigo was slowly learning how to speak. Only time could tell how good they can get at it. Sure, the walls were not the wood, tall trees they were before, but it was something.