NOTE: This is a sequel to my previous post, The Wendigo. It follows Cvar a cryptid posing as an old woman’s dog, and best friend, who sacrifices animals each night in order to keep her alive.

THE WENDIGO 2:

On the old woman’s 113th birthday the world grew heavier. As the years went up the price followed, Cvar had figured this out.

But birthdays… well birthdays act as spiritual gateways. For each one you cross the afterlife you enter grows grander in its nature. A nature decided by your own actions on Earth.

Because of this they have always required a much higher fee. One that Cvar had taken responsibility for long ago. Unfortunately, beings such as himself can only pay their debts to the moon in innocent blood.

THE PARTY WAS SMALL. She had outlived all of her children, and three of her seven grandchildren. Truth be told, she barely knew anyone at her own party. Yet, still they all feigned fondness, and that was enough. It was more than she usually received from anyone.

Except for Cvar. The love he shared with her was the only genuine love he had ever felt, and her love for him was the only living love she had left. Though, he was haunted by the fact that she could never know who he truly was… haunted by the question: “Would she still love me if she did know?”.

It was a mental burden to him. So much so that he wondered if he should even continue his rituals… Luckily, those were thoughts he could ignore, temporarily pushing them to the back of his mind. For now he could just be her loving, listening dog, sitting on the floor next to her in the chair.

“Hi, Grandma”, one of the great grandchildren approached her, she was a young woman holding a baby on her hip “Do you remember me?”

“Of course, Jessica. My mind isn’t that far gone. Yet.”

“Oh, stop. You’re as lucid as the day I met you.”

“I was in my nineties when you met me.”

“Still, you’re a sharp one. At this rate you’ll outlive us all. Hopefully little Jack gets those genes”, she motioned with her baby “Do you want to see him?”

“No”. The old woman couldn’t bear to see him. She’s lost too many to risk loving and losing another. But the granddaughter didn’t know this, and glared at her in disbelief.

“Well, at least Cvar got your genes… That’s for sure… How old is he now? God, he’s been with you for as long as I can remember…”

“I don’t know. He’s a Terrier, they’re a good type.”

“Well, I bet he’s very loyal”, said the great granddaughter as she walked away, done with the conversation.

The old woman, alone once more, patted Cvar on the head, leaned down, and whispered loudly into his big flappy ear, “I love you”. He jumped on her lap, so that way she could hug him, and kiss his forehead. He licked her face, and knew in that moment that—despite any doubts—the fee had to be paid.

LATER THAT NIGHT as all the people were sleeping in the old woman’s house Cvar stood up high on his hind legs. He crept over to the great granddaughters room, and overlooked the baby in his crib. He whispered into it’s ear, “Hello, Jack”.