Deep in the snow-clad wilderness of Norway’s Jotunheimen mountains, where the wind howled like the laments of lost souls, whispered an ancient creature—a Wendigo. While the Wendigo is commonly associated with North American folklore, Norwegian elders said that such a monster once roamed their cold heights, cursed by hunger and loneliness.
Years ago, a hunter named Stian entered into Jotunheimen on his own. The villagers warned him of the cursed fjell, where lengthy winters capture travelers and force them to commit desperate things to survive. Stian laughed at their tales. He was proud of his resilience, knowing that his expertise and provisions would get him through.
The first week passed without incident. Stian discovered deer and rabbit trails, but the air became colder and thicker. Storms devastated the peaks by the second week, forcing him to seek safety in a small, abandoned hytte. Snow piled heavy, keeping him inside. His resources diminished. Hunger gnawed at his gut, and his thinking deteriorated with each passing day.
On the tenth evening, he heard a knock. Stian, weak and shivering, opened the door, expecting to find another stranded soul. Instead, a figure stood there, strangely tall and shrouded in darkness. Its eyes flashed a strange blue, and its voice was as frigid as the winter wind.
“You called me,” it murmured.
Stian staggered back. He hadn’t called anyone, but his thoughts were filled with truth. In his desperation, he cursed the gods for leaving him and his agonizing hunger.
The skeletal hand of the creature brushed Stian’s face as it entered. It said, “I can make your pain go away.” “But hunger comes at a cost.”
Desperation tainted Stian’s thoughts. He agreed. With a smile that resembled ice shards, the Wendigo put its hand over his chest. He felt a terrible, never-ending craving as an intolerable cold ran through him.
The following day, a gaunt and hollow-eyed Stian was discovered wandering the mountains. His once-steady voice had become a raspy whisper as he described an insatiable desire for human flesh. It was too late, but the villagers ran away in fear. Stian had lost his humanity. Stalking the peaks in perpetual agony, he had transformed into Jotunheimen’s Wendigo.
Hikers still report hearing his wailing cries on stormy nights. Furthermore, anyone who goes too far might spot a shadow among the trees, waiting and watching—always hungry.