sometimes i give myself the creeps

Wendigo was bopping through the grasses, a stupid offkey hummed song in his mouth, mind wandering, when he heard the sudden commotion of yipping and snarling just over the rise. He bounced forward and peeked up over the peak, popping his big head up like a gopher popping up out of its hole, and peered down. There he spied a pack of coyotes getting after something. Hardly surprising, with the amount of squalling and squealing going on, coyotes were hardly known for being quiet assassin types. Annoying. What did they have, a fox? His eyes narrowed, focusing in to see, rather than a fox, it was just a kid. Someone's little wolf pup, wandered off from home apparently, only to be set on by coyotes. Tragic! Oh well. But actually - a little coyote massacre would liven up the day, wouldn't it? And if the kid was still kicking when they were off, maybe the parental units would feel a little gratitude in their hearts for brave, kindly Wendigo and cough up some rewards in return for their precious bouncing child.

Or you know, he could always return the body, if the kid keeled over first. Whichever.

Wendigo launched himself over the crest of the hill without any further thought making it through his brain, a dead leaping sprint down the other side, but his oversized self and the terrain unbalanced him and he was going too fast, tripping, somersaulting down the hill to crash into the melee like a bowling ball made of fur and teeth and flashing metal weaponry, knocking one coyote flat and lashing out at another with metal claws that definitely didn't already have a smidge of his own blood on them from his grand entrance.