As a deadly epidemic spreads across the 1860s Northwest Coast, an outcast young woman armed with a sacred Soul Catcher crosses a world tearing itself apart—hunted by the most powerful chieftainess on the coast: her mother.
A Spanish schooner anchors off a pristine Northwest Coast shoreline. Totem poles line the beach. War canoes rise and fall in the tide. There, a chieftainess gives birth — and throws her baby from a cliff.
That child is Neshekai.
Saved by the Wild Woman of the Woods, Neshekai grows up on the fringe of her world: no clan, no crest, no place to belong. Armed with a Soul Catcher — an ancient shamanic relic used to find lost souls and bring them home — she carries a power she barely understands.
When a ceremony goes wrong and a chief's son dies, Neshekai is blamed and cast out. On the run, she encounters Zugwa — a shaman, the last keeper of the old ways, half-mad and magnificent, who has watched everything his people know disappear and is desperate for someone to carry it forward. He warns her: someone is trapping souls, spreading sickness, threatening to erase their world forever. To stop it, she must find the White Eagle — the medicine that could save them all.
She races through vast open ocean and ancient inlets, haunted forests and smallpox-ravaged villages, lawless trading posts thick with whiskey runners and fortune seekers from every corner of the world — only to discover the one spreading the sickness, the one hunting her, is the most powerful chieftainess on the coast.
Her mother.
Now Neshekai must choose — stop her mother and lose the only love she has ever longed for, or inherit the darkness that has hunted her since birth.
In the tonal space of The Revenant and Killers of the Flower Moon, Wild Woman of the Woods is a mythic historical epic from the 19th-century Northwest Coast.
The rivers were highways. The fishing grounds were owned. The hunting territories were inherited. Every death required a reckoning. Every peace required ceremony. This was not wilderness.
This was a civilization — fully formed, with courts and commerce and hereditary governance and law in its bones. And 1862 is the last year it is entirely itself.

Cast out at birth. Raised on the margins. Forced to fight.
Neshekai is the girl no one claimed — and the woman no one can stop. Fierce, reckless, and dangerous when cornered, she will cross the coast, the wild, and the edge of empire to save the people she loves.
She was never given a place in the world. She means to take one.
An ancient shamanic relic, carved from bone and inlaid with abalone — used to find lost souls and bring them home. Or set them free. Neshekai carries one before she fully understands its power.
Tobi Iverson is a Tsimshian, Nisga'a screenwriter and cultural producer descended from Arthur Wellington Clah — the only known Indigenous diarist of the 1862 smallpox epidemic.
Clah wrote in hard-won English for fifty years, repeating one vow across journal after journal:
Wild Woman of the Woods is her answer to that call.
Recognized across eight countries.
This story is being told. You found it early.
"This isn't your typical historical drama — it's something far more dangerous and essential."
Jason Piette · BAFTA-Winning Producer · Disrupting Influence
"This script has the potential to be genuinely important cinema — the kind that changes how we think about storytelling and whose stories matter."
Jason Piette · BAFTA-Winning Producer · Disrupting Influence
"This is the kind of voice-driven epic people say they want and rarely get."
Santa Barbara Screenplay Awards · Senior Judge
"A landmark film: poetic, political, and unforgettable."
PAGE International Screenwriting Awards · Judge ML
"The Soul Catcher as a central motif is brilliantly employed: it is both a plot device and a spiritual barometer."
Santa Barbara Screenplay Awards · Analyst R. Jackson
Iverson writes from inside a living culture — one she has inherited, studied, and witnessed firsthand. Her work is shaped by the art, ceremony, and people still carrying this world forward. She writes what she sees, so others can feel its power.
Sixty-nine volumes. Fifty years of daily writing. 650,000 words in a language he taught himself in two months.
He capsized in the Skeena in January. Ice an inch thick. Half an hour in a freezing river. He swam to shore. He wrote it down. Then he kept going.
When smallpox reached Fort Simpson in 1862 — the epidemic at the heart of this film — Clah counted the dead himself. 363 Tsimshian. 266 at Fort Simpson alone. He wrote every number down.
He wrote his mission across every journal: 'writed by him to let all new people know about old People.' The only known Indigenous account of the 1862 Northwest Coast smallpox epidemic — written by Tobi Iverson's great-great-grandfather.
When Iverson touched those pages in London, she knew she had to finish the screenplay.
Selected to study the Northwest Coast collection. Two days in the archives with objects dating to pre-contact — bentwood boxes, Chilkat robes, raven rattles, masks from the Nass River.
One box stopped her. Pre-contact. No lid. Lost somewhere across two centuries. A hole in the corner from a mouse.
She put her gloves on. She put her hands on it anyway.
Clah knew boxes like this. He may have known this one. Nobody will ever know. But this is the research that cannot be replicated — because it is also inheritance.
Iverson is a direct descendant of Arthur Wellington Clah. She came to this material gradually — through archival research, family history, and reconnecting with the culture and history of the Northwest Coast. What she found was a great-great-grandfather who wrote against all odds for fifty years, in a language he taught himself, so that someone like her might one day find it.
To not follow that record would be its own kind of erasure.
That's why this film exists.