don't let the turkeys get you down

The torch was a blur as Wendigo turned to face the breaking stick. He froze in place with one forepaw raised and stared for several long seconds. Nothing, save for the writhing fire, moved as he stared into the darkness. Then, finally, he dropped into a crouch and began to slink towards the sound's origin. He took several steps in that direction and then paused again, his neck outstretched and his head held at a slight cant. A beat or two passed and he stepped forward twice more before pausing with his head canted to the opposite side. The process repeated in rapid succession as he all but slithered after the sound. There was something out there more interesting than turkeys and he was going to get it.