Colorado. A lonely waystation with a grim past sits on a treacherous pass of the San Juan Mountains. Between 1860 and 1880, no one could have guessed the events that took place there and in the surrounding area just 10 years before. Sure, there were stories told of a lost pioneer family and their belongings as they attempted the dangerous route during a bad winter, but stories are stories. Just fanciful things to entertain and educate. “Don’t go up there during the cold seasons”, they said. “Don’t even try – the mountains will swallow you up just as it did that poor family in 1849, and any others who’ve been stupid enough to head that way since.”

This was a time of conflict, driven, some might say, by the belief of Manifest Destiny; the sense that those who dared, won. Some might consider this to be the bold ambition, enterprise, and the determination that would make America great. Without the shine, however, and stripped down to its barest and most ugly bones, it can be seen as greed.

And greed does dangerous things to a man’s mind when he sees something he wants.

He can taste it. Smell it. Feel it just within his grasp. All he needs to do is reach a little further, a little faster, and take the sort of risks that see the weak left behind… Hunger. Need. Want.

The pioneers that became lost in the mountains in 1849 were only the first to discover how badly this could end. Subjected to hard weather they were ill prepared for, they lost not only their belongings but also their humanity. Abandoning the weak at an old trapper’s lodge, they drove out into the blizzard and succumbed to desperate measures. Turning on one another, driven insane by animalistic hunger, they ate those they had once considered loved and became hungry ghosts in the snow. Endlessly craving, searching, knowing only starvation. The wendigo spirit had possessed them.

Since that time, the tragic tale of the lost pioneers became a warning about the dangers of the mountains – the weather, the wildlife, and of course the native tribes. Little did folk know that the natives were the only ones who were capable of keeping the ghosts at bay.

Another hard winter had passed and the hungry ghosts had returned. Without the placating presence of the tribe to keep the monsters at bay, it was only a matter of time before something more dangerous and desperate would begin to exert its influence. As the spring of 1880 set in, ravenous sights turned upon the old trapper’s lodge, Lullaby’s Grace. It fell to the residents to find out how to escape it.

This was the Legend of Lullaby Pass.