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Mining rich strata of poisoned history and blood-soaked land, the writers summon an exhaustive array of ghosts, wolves, Wendigo spirits, human eaters, conjure women, and petroglyphs willing to exact revenge if you scratch them with your car keys.

Mixed in is text about the legend of the Wendigo, a human turned cannibal.

If the Wendigo was a human whose selfishness “overpowered their self control,” Kascak says, the modern-day equivalents are corporations.

Feliz falls into the world of the Wendigo — masked, crouching dancers who grab her feet as she tries to walk — and is passed over their hulking forms.

As it happens, spiritual ecstasy, touched with holy dread, fascinated Algernon Blackwood, whose chilling weird tales — he called them “Queer Stories” — include “The Willows” and “The Wendigo.”