I found this to be a really outstanding pice of art, i feel the cold in the picture, the clear white eye of the wendigo mix really well with the blue themed flesh and the dark fur

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In the year 1587, Governor John White was force to leave behind 115 men, women and children, including his own granddaughter, in the barely established colony of Roanoke to sail back to England in the search for supplies and reinforcements. History tells the sorrowed tale. Governor White was unable to return for three years. When he did manage to come back, nothing remained where the colony once stood. Every last living soul was gone, never to be found again. There was no evidence of a fight, no bodies, no destruction. The only clue ever discovered was the word "croatoan" carved into a fence post.

Though historians have long debated the fate of the colonists, no truth has ever been agreed upon. But there is one known fact. Governor White was forced to leave Roanoke on the eve of one of the worst winters ever recorded, and with precious little in the way of supplies.

The native folk of the eastern shores have a rule. It is better to starve and die with dignity than to choose that last, deepest taboo. In sorrow, in desperation, the consequences of survival is far worse than accepting the afterlife.

Because once one is born, there is no hope for any who still remain. It lives eternally, ever hungering as it did in life. No amount of food will ever satisfy it, or bring flesh to its eternally skeletal body.

Achante'Sika. Sad heart. In the frozen endless winter it was born. In the darkness of the night it ever roams. But sadness is something it can no longer feel. Only hunger. And wherever there is prey, it will come.

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