Long ago, a group of villagers were left devastated after a raging fire destroyed their town. Left with only a few meager belongings and the clothes on their back, the village leader led them on a journey in order to find new land and to build anew.
That man's name was Wendell.
He believed that if they ventured north, deep into the mountains, eventually, his village would be able to discover fertile and uninhabited land for them to settle on.
"Do not despair! You might feel lost and believe that the world is against you! However, we must push on in honor of those we have lost and strive to find a new home to settle in!" Announcing his intention to travel to the north and find a place to call home, Wendell hoped the rest of the village would reciprocate with his feelings and join him.
Everyone knew Wendell as a knowledgeable leader who, in his youth, had explored the world before settling down in the village. With his charismatic nature and unwavering generosity, he became well-liked among the people.
So naturally, they believed him and placed their trust in his plan.
Setting off, the villagers made the trek up north. At first, the journey, while long, wasn't arduous. This was mostly because their former village was not very far from the entrance to the mountain range.
As a result, the villagers would frequently explore the outskirts of the mountains and, therefore, were very familiar with the lower region and its valleys.
Knowing this information, both the villagers and Wendell assumed the journey would go smoothly and relied heavily on their rations, believing that they would have plenty of time to find a new home and rebuild before the winter weather set in.
So with their spirits high and with heavy hearts, the villagers set off with Wendell leading them as they headed north.
…
As the hot summer days gave way to winter, the villagers' rations grew increasingly small.
While at first they were able to forage and hunt to make up for the deficit, the once bountiful plants died as soon as the first frost descended. And the herds of deer and elk that roamed the mountains soon migrated downward in droves to escape the cold winter chill.
The villagers' inexperience proved fatal, with them not being used to going long stretches without food. And one by one, those who were ill or elderly began to slowly and painfully succumb to hunger.
Consumed by grief and angered by his inadequacy as a leader, Wendell found himself desperate to sate both his hunger and need to be praised by those who once looked up to him with admiration.
So, he came up with an idea.
Even though the villagers' trust in him wasn't as it once was, with his cunning intellect and way with words, he was able to reignite an uneasy trust between those remaining.
Stocking up on the last of the rations available, Wendell set off alone and headed deeper into the forest to find any food to sustain his people.
For five days and nights, Wendell braved the blizzards and freezing cold as he trekked through uncharted territory.
On the sixth day, he finally arrived at a clearing and, despite the cold, saw a herd of elk. Large and carrying an air of mystique, the herd showed no sign of starvation despite the lack of food present, and their coats gleamed in the early morning sun.
Wendell, despite his hunger, knew from his travels that this herd wasn't normal by any means and came to the conclusion that this herd of elk was protected by mysterious forces.
However, his people were starving.
He was starving.
The sharp pangs of hunger gnawing at his empty stomach had him instinctively reaching for his bow and arrow, drawing it back as he aimed at a large bull. Seeing the bull standing in the field, oblivious to the danger that it was in, he could feel his mouth already salivating as he imagined the tender flesh of the animal as he would eat it.
At that moment, a bright golden light appeared in front of him, and instantly, he stumbled back in fright. Tripping over his own feet, he failed to steady himself and fell onto the snowy forest ground, his bow and arrow discarded to the side, right next to him.
Squinting his eyes, he waited for the light to subside and held back a gasp as he stared at the figure before him.
Draped in a cloak as white as the snow, the tall and lanky figure stood before him silently. Though Wendell could not see the face of the figure before him, the figure smiled, and he could see a row of gleaming white teeth as sharp as a wolf's and a hint of deathly pale skin as the figure's hood shifted slightly from the wind.
"Who, who are you!?" Wendell called out to the mysterious figure both in fear and curiosity as he struggled to comprehend what he had just seen. Was it magic? A miracle? Who exactly was this person?
"Do you wish to free yourself from the chains of starvation?" As the figure spoke, its voice was but an echo of a whisper, and Wendell strained his ears to listen to the figure's words, which were drowned out by the beating of his own heart.
Not waiting for a reply, the figure continued to speak. "For your five days of effort, I grant you five of my elk to sustain you and your people. However, as I cherish each of them deeply, I will ask you to wait an additional five days so I can mourn over them and prepare them for their sacrifice."
Dumbfounded, Wendell could only nod in reply and watch as the figure turned around and disappeared into the forest.
Staring into the distance in disbelief, it took a while for Wendell to gain his bearings before staggering to his feet and fleeing from the clearing.
Surprisingly, as if by magic, he was only running for a few minutes before he stumbled upon the camp where the remaining villagers were just as it became midday.
Noticing their uneasy expressions, he could only explain his story and began to ramble on and on as he described his journey, the herd of elk, the strange figure he saw, and what they said.
"Don't you see? This must be a gift from the gods! As long as we wait just five days, we'll soon be able to eat!"
The villagers, who had already had their moods soured by Wendell failing to even bring back a morsel to eat, couldn't help but doubt their leader's words as he tried to convince them to wait the five extra days.
"Wendell didn't bring back any food!?"
"What was he doing out there for so long! And to think that we gave him the rest of our rations!"
"How are we going to survive? He could've at least brought something!"
Anger brewed inside the villagers' hearts, and they blamed Wendell for bringing them into this mess, blamed him for tricking them, and blamed him for leaving them with gaunt faces and bodies so thin that they could count each of their ribs.
"It's all his fault! Wendell was the one who tricked us into coming this far!"
"He said that we would have a home by now! My son's grandfather died because of him!"
It built up. More and more as his cheery disposition and optimism felt mocking and made their stomachs twist until they snapped.
"He's a curse!"
"Wendell must be a demon in disguise, plotting to kill us all!"
"We have to protect ourselves!"
"We have to kill Wendell!"
The strongest among them, a duo of men, brought him down as men and women alike took turns taking out their anger against him, as even the children looked on with a mix of fear and disgust in their eyes.
Punching, slapping, kicking. They poured their anger out on Wendell until a final kick to his chest broke something in him.
Wendell didn't move anymore after that.