sweeps in from the sky with a shriek, arms extended, claws bared. Wendigo catches him by the neck, stopping his attack as a sonic boom echoes through the light-covered city. Wiver falls limp as the veil consumes him as well.

Wendigo lowers its free hand to its side, then extends the forearm out, the open palm facing the clearing night sky. In that palm, a form fades into the world: a duct-taped body so small yet so large. An umbilicus leads out of the fetus and into Wendigo's carotid artery.

The broken infant gains clarity as blue flames envelop it. The duct tape falls. Its injuries fade into its skin. The infant cries, and the city erupts in...compassion.

I can’t think of any other way to describe it. It's in the air. Everything just feels loving and reassuring, like nothing...

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