The wendigo paces through the darkness of its underground prison, hunger gnawing at its core. It was weak now, brushing against the jagged rocks and stone with bony talons that echoed throughout.
Once, its strength had been second to none. Its hunger for destruction, power, and flesh unrivaled.
Until some pesky water dwellers locked it up deep in the ocean's crust.
Now the wendigo haunts the massive, cobbled darkness of its confinement, a beast bound by a spell it couldn't break for the last millennia no matter how hard it tried. The thought of vengeance was the pinnacle of its existents. It was the breath that filled its lungs and the beat that thumped its blacken heart. Some days, memories of the ones who trapped it fueled its darkness, leaving behind the vision of their mangled bodies bloody and broken beneath its claws. But most days it felt only hunger.
One day, it would be free. It would rush out the ocean and find the descendants of the ocean dwellers and maul ever last one of them. It would feast on the flesh of the land dwellers and animals like a gourmet buffet for one.
Hunger and vengeances stabbed at its thin ribs. The wendigo tilts its head back and shrieked, a long razor-sharp wail, that vibrated through the prison, causing small rocks and dirt to pebble to the ground.
The ground above shakes wildly. The wendigo lifted its skull-antlered face as it heard the sea animals, chaotic and panicked cries, and it laughs.