Wind Walkers

friends of family and friends descend in to the Everglades swamplands to their yearly hunting trip just to learn they are the people being searched. A malevolent thing is tracking them and so they start to realise their party could possibly be owned by some thing brought home by the tour of duty from the Middle East – a fanatic of warfare so dreadful and lethal they’re oblivious of its own existence that is senile. Or are you currently confronting something much more unspeakable, a mythical Native American curse going to unleash its horrible legacy of thirsting for historic revival by promising more spirits?