Page 4 of Chaos has a Name
As for them hearing the whistling…
Oh, you might not be taken that day, but you would be taken at some point. That was the way to warn the offering, so they could change their ways before it was too late.
Seldom did.
Unfortunately.
So, this lottery of sorts became their way.
It had been adopted as their own for countless years, and it would remain a tradition that was upkept by some of them.
For this reason, it was done behind everyone’s back. Their main job was done in the shadows—a way to help facilitate keeping their people safe.
As it had been, it should forever be.
When did it begin?
Well, that was many, many years ago, adapted from a time when their people were at rock bottom.
It was from when they were marched for hundreds of miles from their homes to a new place where they would be forced to live out their lives.
In squaller.
In destitution.
In misery.
In hopes of changing their fate, it became so important to find a way to give thanks to the other side, that the tradition was born.
And in it, so many thrived.
That was what kept it alive for so many years. It helped them get to this point in their lives as a tribe.
Finally, they found prosperity.
Now, asThe Hollowwatched over the reservation, making its choice for that Solstice evening, it was clear who would be the next person to become their sacrifice to the mighty Wendigo.
It was a no-brainer.
He.
Was.
Found.
The Hollowhad kept an eye on this one, with the intent of making that fateful choice that would give them more blessings from the mighty Wendigo.
His time had come.
He was about to be the sacrifice needed for the better of the whole.
As‘the chosen’walked home from the only bar on the reservation, he was followed. In the shadows of the night, his footsteps were trailed, making sure he was accessible.
Tonight, he would be special.
Well, for this sacrifice.
Thomas Adsila was a common man, but tonight, he would be the sacrifice that kept their community going—for the next three hundred and sixty days, at least.
