The wind howled amongst the trees as the snow came down in droves. I looked out the window of my cabin, the fire in the hearth barely able to keep up with the frigid winter air that seemed to invade this space. It had been 12 hours since I had ventured out here, into the woods and up the mountain. I have not been able to shake the feeling of being watched.
As I peer outside, I see something that shakes me to my core. Footprints in the snow, fresh, yet to be covered by the snowfall, what bothers me the most is that these prints look almost human...
I'm making sure to keep my name off of this record but for context, I'm a mountaineer of fifteen years. I was a marine on two tours and I've been a search and rescue officer ever since. I would not hesitate to say the mountain and the woods around it were where I felt most at home. I've seen stories of this or that about my profession being passed around and while I can't validate the authenticity of those tales, I can say that while I have seen some strange things in my years, things I couldn't explain. I didn't let it shake me.
I'm not a religious man, but I accept that there are things in this world that I may never understand. Though none of it was as odd as the stories I've heard others tell, until today.
I was off duty, looking to spend a month up in my cabin on the mountainside. It was early January, first days of the new year. This was a yearly ritual for me, to re-align myself after a long year of work, the only time I ever really took a vacation.
I had parked my truck at the base of the mountain, just outside the tree line, half a mile from the highway. I climbed out of the truck and pulled my pack from the backseat. It was heavy on my back, it was a comfort. I had two weeks of supplies and beyond that I was to forage and hunt for myself. I kept a hunting rifle with me and there were deer and elk in the area, rabbits and other smaller critters to trap if need be. There were also bears and wolves in the area but the former should be hibernating by now and the latter I already knew to stay away from.
Aside from a satellite phone that was only for emergencies, there was no technology and no electricity. Just me and the natural world.
I locked my truck and started my half a day's hike. It was still early in the day, the sun was still blocked by the mountain ridges. There was some snowfall on the ground, but not much. It had been about two weeks since the last snowfall. As I hiked the usual trail, it did not take me long to notice the silence.
In the winter, it's usually quiet. Most birds had flown south and insects had either frozen or died off. Quiet is normal, but this was something else. A kind of bizarre silence that seemed to eat all other sounds. Even my footfalls on the snow were dampened more than usual. The more I notice it, the more a sense of panic suddenly rises in my chest but I push it down. Shake it off. You're better than this, I tell myself.
I shouldn't be spooked so easily. I kept on. I ignore the silence but what I can't ignore is the feeling of being watched. I have an odd 'sixth sense' about that and when I was in the military I learned to notice that feeling real quick, eyes on you usually came with a gun and you don't want to be caught standing with your dick in your hand, (figuratively speaking).
Every so often I pause to scan the trees, thinking a stray wolf or a mountain lion had gone hunting. I was normally able to see the signs, tracks, droppings ect. But every time I looked, nothing. I call out, "Hello!" Maybe a hunter or hiker is nearby, I was already wearing a bright orange vest over my coat just in case. But if someone saw me from behind, at a distance they might mistake me for a bear or something.
I did a full 360 turn, "Hello!" I called. That damn silence eats up my voice. I see nothing, I hear nothing but I feel like something is following me, watching me, hunting me.
I carried the ritual unloaded, but now I was pausing to feed bullets into it. It was mostly for my own security. I didn't want an animal to jump me and not be prepared, but nothing came. After a moment I picked up the pace, it was a few hours in by now and dark grey clouds were rolling overhead. The forecast didn't call for snow today but Mother Nature had other plans.
It was another hour in when the snow starts to come down, slow at first. And as I walk I start to notice something, deep marks carved into the truck of trees. I knew bears marked their territory this way, but upon inspection, these marks were deep. Deeper than any bear marks than I'd ever seen, and they looked fresh. If this was a bear, it would have been huge to have claws this long and to be able to reach as high as these were. Maybe it climbed the tree? But bears were not commonly found in this area, usually deeper into the woods, further than where I would normally venture on my own.
I looked for any other signs and there were tracks in the snow, equally fresh. Judging by the shape, they were almost human. The shape was a little too long, and the toes ended in a point.
"Very funny," I muttered. Someone was fucking with me, probably trying to work up a Bigfoot hoax or some internet creepypasta bullshit. I was kicking myself for falling for such nonsense when I heard it.
It wasn't a scream, more like a roar, unlike anything I've ever heard. The sound cut through that silence and rattled my eardrums, shaking me to my bones. I've never heard anything in my life. I knew what a mountain lion sounded like, and this wasn't it. If I had to compare it to anything, it damn near almost sounded human but louder, more guttural.
I didn't want to find out what it was and I turned and continued on the trail. By now I was closer to the cabin than the base of the mountain. Not only that, but that sound came from where I had already been. If I wanted to avoid its territory, I'd have to keep going.
As I reach the cabin, the snow is coming down harder, damn near blizzard conditions. I unlocked the door to the cabin and rushed inside, closing the door behind me. Finally I'm sheltered from the wind and that damn silence. I can hear my own breath again.
I pull my pack off and set it. Down, lay my rifle against the wall. From my bag I pull one of those insta-light fire logs and place it in the fireplace, lighting it and letting the warmth fill the room. I give a relieved sigh. As if the fire somehow made me safe from whatever was outside.
But that safe feeling didn't last. Despite my best attempts to relax, unpack and rest. But no matter what I did I could not shake the feeling of being watched. I found myself constantly checking over my shoulder, looking out the windows. I never saw anything, until I did.
Footprints in the snow that weren't there earlier, the same shape as the ones I saw earlier. It was moments later I hear something heavy hit the roof, and I hear that scream again, just above me.
I scramble, panicking for my rifle. Picking it up I look up, still hearing footsteps on the roof. I go for the door, stepping outside into the cold dark. The wind howled and the snow made visibility shit. I get a few steps away and turn, aiming up at the roof of the cabin.