In Chapter 26, Kimmerer describes the history and origin of the Windigo. She starts the chapter with striking imagery that foreshadows the later scene where she finally comes face to face with the Windigo:
In the winter brilliance, the only sounds are the rub of my jacket against itself, the soft ploompf of my snowshoes, the rifle-shot crack of trees bursting their hearts in the freezing temperatures, and the beating of my own heart, pumping hot blood to fingers still tingling in double mittens. In the break between squalls, the sky is painfully blue. The snowfields sparkle below like shattered glass.
[...]
Everybody's hungry.
Kimmerer is excellent at setting a scene by including small sensory details, and the opening to this chapter is no exception. The imagery at first seems beautiful. The "brilliance" and "sparkle" of the snow, the downy rustle of Kimmerer's jacket, the onomatopoetic "ploompf of my snowshoes," the cracking of the trees, the feel of warm blood in cold fingers, the blowing "squalls" of snow, and the blue sky all draw on the reader's senses to create a vivid winter scene. Any reader who has been outside on a snowy day knows at least some of these feelings and is immediately transported to the day Kimmerer describes.
The more closely the reader pays attention to the exact sensations Kimmerer describes, the less picturesque the scene becomes. Snowshoeing can be hard work. Kimmerer's heart is struggling to warm her "still tingling" fingers despite two layers of mittens. The sky is not only blue, but the "painful blue" that can cause snow blindness. The cracking of the trees sounds violent, like "rifle-shot." Kimmerer knows that the sound is really that of the trees' own circulatory systems exploding due to the cold. Even the sparkle of the snowfields is hostile, "like shattered glass." The scene Kimmerer is painting is one of a winter that is hostile to survival. It all leads up to the striking image that stands alone as its own paragraph, gnawing at the reader's stomach: "Everybody's hungry."
The imagery is both captivating and frightening. Kimmerer uses it to make a point about what makes us vulnerable to the Windigo. When we are hungry, threatened, and alone, that is when the Windigo can come on the scene. By driving this point home now with vivid imagery, Kimmerer lays the groundwork for the solution she eventually finds to the Windigo's terror: she feeds it and shows it that its hunger can be sated. If the Windigo rages in times of scarcity, it can be healed in times of plenty.