this second’s fancy

Wendigo lay stretched out on his belly in the center of a semi circle of, well, garbage. He was oblivious to the chill below that was steadily seeping up into his fur and had long since frozen his unprotected giblets. Neither the chill nor the rising sun broke his focus. No, he had eyes only for the project cupped loosely in his paws. He loved the sound dry old bones made when rattled together. They made a happy hollow clinking he found quite pleasing. A stumble as he left his bone littered den had elicited the sound and, seized with inspiration, Wendigo had gathered up all his little bones and hauled them off to his favorite crafting spot on the edge of the sand trap fields. Hours had passed since he’d started and he could, potentially, provided his attention lasted, last several more hours. What project held his attention so thoroughly? A necklace. And not just any necklace, no, but a big ugly one. Cobbled together with mismatched bones of varying sizes and belonging to various species, the wearable monstrosity was clearly the work of a child. There was no rhyme or reason as to which bone went where; the one little bird skull that could have been a centerpiece was wildly off center. Still, he loved the necklace already.

How much longer his focus would last was anyone’s guess. That he had lasted so long was a marvel. Most projects Wendigo undertook were abandoned in minutes. In fact, unless some kind (or irritated) soul picked them up it was safe to assume Habari was littered with them. For every one completed project there were at least a dozen forgotten in their infancy. If asked Wendigo would proclaim them all special. It didn’t matter how far along the projects were; whether it was a pile of sticks meant to be a bracelet or an actual bracelet, he loved them all the same.

For now this super special necklace had his entire focus. Normally the rising sun would cast him into the shadows but for now his near-vampiric aversion was forgotten. He had a thing to make.