There are always plenty of stories surrounding any kind of wilderness; some are mundane, others are a bit more fantastical. In any rural area, you could find tales of shapeshifters, demons, ghosts, and seven foot tall monkey people just by asking around. Some fully believe them to be true, claiming they themselves have had encounters with these beings. Others might say they're leftovers of ancient legends, stuff that got passed down and distorted through the generations. A few believe they're just hoaxes for attention, conjured up by a couple bored teens with a halloween costume and a video camera. My name is John Dennil, and whatever the truth of those legends were, I was bound to find out. This search for truth was what lead me down a hardly-used dirt road in the middle of nowhere during a chilly afternoon in autumn.
The locals had reported a few cases of sighting wolf creatures of some kind, claiming they stood two heads higher than a man and had the strength of a full-grown bear. They called it the dogman, although some speculated it was closer to a wolf than an actual dog. Most of the sightings had come from one spot in particular, so I quickly decided on a good spot to go camping. I figured I'd set up some night vision cameras in the woods, spend the night camping, then see what popped up in the morning. It was a simple plan, and one I was sure couldn't go wrong in the slightest.
My battered jeep finally pulled up to the secluded, hardly used trailhead, its headlights picking out the white letters from the vine covered sign. "Glen Creek Trail," I thought to myself, "Looks like the right place." I swung open the door and dropped to the leaf-covered asphalt, my shoes crunching on a carpet of fallen leaves. The cool autumn air tugged at my short black hair, and the afternoon sun cast the forest in a pleasant orange glow. I snuck over to the trunk of the jeep and popped it open, then took my bags out of the back. First came my trusty backpack, then the sleeping bag and tent, and finally the bag of remote camera equipment. I slammed the trunk closed with my one free hand, adjusted my grip on the bags, and began walking down the hardly-used trail.
Throughout my trip to the campsite I felt like eyes were on me. The woods may have been well lit, but most of the trees were big enough to hide a human... or something worse. It would be so easy for something to dart between them when I wasn't looking, to gradually sneak around to my backside, to get right behind me and BAM!
My heart nearly stopped as I whirled to look over my shoulder, my paranoia making it feel like something was about to jump right at my face. But, alas, all I found was the trail winding back the way I came. I tried to convince myself that nothing was out there, that I wasn't in any danger, but fearful panic managed to worm its way into my mind all the same. My legs picked up the pace as I went down the trail, silently begging for the safety of a clearing.
Eventually the overgrown trail led to a circular patch of open grass and fallen leaves, free from the undergrowth that cluttered just about everywhere else in these woods. I set down the camera gear and began opening up the tent, swiftly unpacking the metal rods and nylon tarp. It took a while to get the large structure set up, but when it was done I had a comfortably sized shelter from the cold. I then stepped inside and rolled out my sleeping bag, a big poofy thing that functioned equally well as bedding. Once my task of setting up my sleeping area was complete, I flopped down onto the sleeping bag for a well deserved rest. I'd just lay here for a bit, then get up and-
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Something was moving out there on the fallen leaves, something big. Crunch. Crunch. Snuffle snuffle. Was it a bear? Maybe, but it didn't sound like something with four paws. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Whatever it was was right beside the tent. I froze, every muscle in my body paralyzed by fear as whatever it was moved around out there. I could see a looming black shape outlined in the sun, bent over and carefully crawling on all fours. I could hear it sniffing at the base of the tent, perhaps picking up some scent of prey. Maybe I was that prey, I thought, and it was only a matter of time before the beast realized I was only a few feet from it. I could feel myself shaking, terrified by the thought that the only thing standing between me and a mouth of sharp teeth was a flimsy sheet of nylon.
I worked up the courage to start crawling to the middle of the tent, moving slowly so I didn't alert whatever was out there. It was circling over to the tent flap, getting closer to the entrance with every passing second. I could hear fur rubbing against the nylon, could smell a hint of primal musk, and could feel the aura of hunger in the air. The small part of my brain that could still reason argued that a few feet of distance wouldn't save me, but my body refused to listen as I crawled backwards. The thing was at the tent flap which I had foolishly left unzipped, continuing to sniff and snuffle around. Its nose was right at the entrance, its face began pushing in, and I could see its black nose peeking insi-
CRACK!
A big, brittle branch gave way under my palm, breaking the tension and nearly giving me a heart attack. Whatever it was bolted, running away in a flurry of scrabbling claws faster than any bear I had seen. After a second, all I could hear was the distant snapping of twigs and branches as whatever beast it was tore ass through the forest. It took me a moment to muster the courage to peek out of the tent, but when I did all I saw was some still-rustling bushes in the distance. Well, it wasn't all I saw; as I looked down, I noticed that the thing had left one very clear footprint in the grass.
Once I was sure that the thing was long gone, I stepped fully out of my tent, being careful to not ruin the footprint. I made my way over to my backpack, but once I got to it I realized it had been opened. It wasn't torn open, in fact it looked positively pristine, but most of the zippers had been undone. As I searched through the contents I realized that all the food that wasn't in airtight packaging had been stolen, while my survival gear and books had been left untouched. I reached in and grabbed "The Tracker's Handbook", then headed back to the footprint. I flipped the book open to its first few pages, looking down the list of archetypes. It didn't look like a bear print, it was too narrow and only had four toes. What it did look like was a wolf print, only it was too big to be any kind of wolf I'd heard of. I looked a bit closer and realized it had a lot more weight behind it as well, at least 100 pounds more than an average wolf. I went back to my backpack and found my forensic ruler, then laid it out next to the footprint. I took several pictures, showcasing the size and depth for future reference. This was some pretty solid proof for the dogman theory, but it would be far from enough to convince anyone important.
Afterwards, I got the bright idea to set up cameras all around the campsite, just in case this dogman/wolfman thing came back. I placed a few in the surrounding trees to cover all angles, making sure that anything that entered the clearing would get caught on camera. After a moment of thought I decided to put a camera in the corner of the tent as well, looking over at my sleeping bag. If that thing did come back, and this time made it into my tent... the optimist in me said I'd get some great footage, while the pessimist decided I'd be filming my own mauling. Either way I'd have solid proof that this thing existed.
I swiftly got all of the campground cameras hooked up to my laptop, and decided to take a peek. Camera 1... nothing. Camera 2... nothing. Camera 3... there was something. I could see some sort of figure crouched behind a bush at the edge of the clearing behind me, concealed just enough so that I couldn't tell what it was. It seemed big, though, and I guessed that it was the same creature that had been sniffing around my tent. I quickly ran through my options: I could take a camera over and investigate, I could go hide in my tent until it left, or I could just carry on placing cameras in the woods. Investigating was tempting, but it could just run away before I could get it on camera, or it could just rip my face clean off. Staying put was the safest bet, but it was getting dark; if I didn't get the rest of the cameras up soon, I'd be forced to work during the night when I could barely see. Just ignoring the thing and setting up the rest of the cameras seemed nonsensical at first, but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. I wouldn't be confronting the creature that was stalking me, and I could gather footage of the area during the whole night. It might be a bit more dangerous than hiding in the tent, but that thing already knew I was here and sturdy nylon wouldn't last a minute against bear-like claws.