The Pacific Crest Trail had been on my bucket list since I was a young girl. I had fallen in love with hiking as a Scout when our troop ventured to Philmont for a two-week excursion. Ever since, I had been searching out the best hiking I could find, not just in the States, but all over the world. I had built a small cadre of close friends that shared my passion and when I graduated college, we tackled the Appalachian Trail. We had been to most of the National Parks, some several times, to South America, Europe and even Asia and had hiked the Great Wall after my PhD. I used my position as an anthropology professor to pay for most of the trips and The University hadn't objected.
Some thirty years later, the intimidating 2650 miles of the PCT was finally at the top of my list. We had done the southern section all the way across California last year and this year, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I was facing the northern trek across Oregon and Washington, by myself. My friends were a little worried about a woman on the trail by herself, but I assured them I would be fine. Hikers were a fraternity after all, looking out for each other, and the years of martial arts I had studied would help, if necessary. I had managed to hook up with several different groups of hikers during the trip and finished the last 100 miles or so with a group of college kids from Texas, a couple had even taken one of my classes. We shared a shuttle from the trail head into Vancouver to catch our flights home. When we got to the airport, I discovered that their flight was the last one out that evening, was almost empty, was cheaper than mine and that I could switch with no fees, save on a hotel and be home sleeping in my bed tonight. I took it.
The flight was with one of those inexpensive; no, cheap, discount airlines and was a direct shot to Austin. Aside from us, there were maybe a dozen people on the plane making for a total of about twenty five out of a hundred and twenty seats taken. I let the kids have the front half of the plane and took the last seat in the back so I could crash while they partied. I made a deal with the flight attendant to let me cover half their bill for drinks and made them promise to not get too out of control. I gave her my card and we agreed to 'settle up' when we landed. My reward for them putting up with the 'old lady,' as they had called me on the trail for the past week. It turned out my offer had been more of a gesture than a reality as we were all asleep within an hour of the plane lifting off. I drifted off into strange and wonderful dreams.
The plane jostled and I woke up to the captains voice on the speaker," Well, folks, looks like we're going to be a little late getting you home tonight," his Texas drawl was refreshing, "We got a 'big nasty' coming down from Canada to our east and we're going to take a little detour to the south to get around it. Now I understand you'll be disappointed that you won't get to see the Tetons out the window," his humor was not lost as chuckles spread through the plane, "but rest assured, we'll get you home safe. Just keep your seatbelts fastened and sit tight." The plane jostled again, a bit more severely and I started to wonder if we hadn't changed course a little later than we should have. I tried to get back to sleep but couldn't quite get there. I settled for watching the lightning dance in the sky out my window as the storm closed in on us.
I saw the lightning strike that took out our left engine and knew it was not good when the flight attendants started scurrying up and down the aisle making sure everyone was strapped in. The captains voice, came on the intercom again," Well, folks, I gotta be honest with you, it's gonna be rough, but we're going to be alright. Denver's just over the next set of mountains and they're ready for us. One of the flight attendants took a seat across the aisle from me a few rows up and strapped himself in. I could tell by the look on his face, he wasn't as confident as the pilot had tried to be. A few minutes later we hit a serious microburst, I felt my stomach in my throat as the plane dropped; we hit the top of the mountain and the plane broke apart.
I had no idea how long it had been since the crash when I woke up. The row of seats in front of me were still there but everything forward of that and everything to my right, including the seat where the flight attendant had been, was just gone; nothing but wide Colorado sky. A bright sun shone down on me through what would have been the roof of the plane. I took a quick mental inventory, asking my body, 'where does it hurt,' and, aside from a mild headache, got no responses. I appeared to be alright. I had no confidence that anyone else had been so lucky. Undoing my seatbelt, I did my best to stand up, shielding my eyes from the sun while I took stock of what was left of the plane. Moving across to where the right wall should have been, listening to the plane creak and moan as it shifted under my feet, I discovered we, what was left of the plane and me, were wedged between some trees doing their very best in a losing battle to keep us from sliding over a cliff. I went back to my seat and opened the overhead compartment. Amazed it was all still there and in one piece, I grabbed my backpack and the small duffle that held my dirty hiking clothes, along with the few blankets and a first aid kit that had been stored there, and tossed it all to the back of the plane. The emergency exit wasn't difficult to open and was just close enough to the ledge that I could safely make the jump.
I tossed my gear onto the ledge and made the jump, moving my stash away from the plane just in time to see the largest of the trees lose its fight. The smaller trees followed suit and the tail of the plane plunged over the precipice. I walked to the edge and fell to my knees and said a short prayer as it joined the rest of the plane in a silent grave for my new friends and the other unlucky souls that had been with us on the flight; a few hundred feet below me, the area at the base of the cliff was littered with the wreckage of the plane and I had no doubt that I had been the only one to survive. I've heard it said that God watches over fools and drunks. I guess that makes me the fool; as soon as the opportunity offered itself, I would be the drunk, too.
I stripped out of my travel clothes and pulled my hiking gear out of the duffle, putting the blankets and whatever else I thought I might need into my pack, I headed along the ledge, looking for a place to wait for the rescuers that had to be on their way. About two hundred yards to my west, I found some cut outs in the wall of the canyon indicating that, at some time, this had been a travel route for someone and decided it might be my best chance to find shelter; I started to climb.
It was only about twenty feet and I made the climb easily, pulling my pack up after me. It was another ledge like the one the tail of the plane had come to rest on, only smaller with a large area of exposed stone surrounded by scrub brush and small trees. To the back of the ledge was a small opening in the face of the mountain that looked like it might offer some protection from the weather and anything else that might wander by; I could build a signal fire on the stone outcropping. I dropped my pack, claimed my flashlight and went to explore the opening, it was larger than it appeared and the cave it led to was impressive. Under different circumstances, I would have had a field day with all the intricate carvings on the walls. I guessed that this had been a ceremonial chamber of some sort. My initial impression was the natives had a thing for cats, big ones. There was a fire pit in the middle of the floor next to a small raised platform with an opening in the roof that illuminated the cave enough that my flashlight was not necessary,
I found no evidence of animal activity, so I grabbed my pack and moved in. Upon closer investigation, I did discover I had a roommate, in the very back of the cave, next to a large pool of water, was a skeleton that had, from all evidence, been here for a very long time. From his clothes, I guessed 1800's old west; he had a revolver on one hip and a large Bowie knife on the other. There was a broken arrow in his chest; I guess the locals had taken exception to his being here. He had crawled into the cave to die. I didn't think he would object, so I borrowed his knife and found it to be incredibly well preserved and knew it would be very useful.
The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering firewood and using the knife to make kindling. I had found some matches in the first aid kit from the plane and quickly had a nice fire going in the fire pit. As the darkness fell, I decided that not only were my clothes a little ripe, but I was, too. I stripped down and slid into the pool of water to do what I could to clean myself off, trying my best to wash my clothes at the same time. The pool was a natural spring that bubbled up from the bottom and ran out through a small opening at the very back of the cave. The cool water felt good on my body. When I was done, I added more wood to the fire, spread my clothes out to dry and curled up in my sleeping bag on the pallet I had made on the small platform by the fire. I lay awake for a long time, staring out the hole in the ceiling, thinking about what had happened. I nodded off just as I saw the edge of a full moon creep into the opening in the top of the cave.
Drums; drums and singing; no chanting, I opened my eyes; the moon shone down upon me through the hole in the roof of the cave in all its fullness and glory as the fire raged next me, I was surrounded by people in some sort of ceremonial dress, the images carved in the walls seems to writhe and move with the drums and the chanting. I thought I saw a large cat prowling through the crowd. Someone in an animal skin stood between me and the fire, one hand raised above their head holding a stone knife, the other throwing something into the fire; shouting, she turned to face me as the drums and chanting stopped. I tried to sit up to figure out what was happening but found I was tied to the platform by leather straps on my ankles and wrists. The woman with the knife was completely naked except for the enormous cougar skin she was wearing, her dark skin glistened in the light of the moon and fire, her head completely covered, she peered out the cougars eyes as she walked around the platform softly chanting something I could barely hear as she pointed the knife at me.
Cutting incisions around my breasts, down my chest and stomach to the top of my pelvis, I screamed when she shoved the knife into my vagina, slid her hand inside me and ripped something from me and tossed it into the fire. Shouting something that sounded like a name, she dropped to her knees and bowed as the form of large cat leapt out of the fire. The shape stepped toward the platform and climbed on top of me. The figures that filled the cave all fell to their knees and started chanting again softly. The big cat I thought I had seen wandering through the crowd stepped into the light of the fire and roared; the crowd yelled their approval as he turned and disappeared again into the shadows. The shape laid down not on me but
in
me. My head swam in the pain, I could feel its presence, its energy; I could feel it becoming one with me and me one with it. The pain started to subside as the energy filled me. I could feel myself changing, into what I had no idea.
I sat up with a start to find my fire dwindling and the room empty. It had been a dream, or so I thought. I got up to feed the fire and go to the bathroom and felt my hair, that should have been just above my collar, fall well past my shoulders. My right hand went to my chest and my left to my crotch; for some reason I wasn't surprised when a sticky residue covered my hands, but nothing hurt, and I found everything where it should have been.
I leaned back against the platform and tried to remember the dream I had had and tried to understand its significance, what had happened to me. It was hopeless as any memory of the vision faded into the night. "You are to be my mate," a voice filled my head from out of the darkness, "It has been many years since the spirits last performed the ceremony. I will make you powerful and you will therefore make me even more so," the very large cat I had seen before stepped out of the shadows into the faint light of my dying fire.
For a reason I could not consciously understand, I knelt on the stone floor and presented myself to the large cat with my arms outstretched and my face on the floor. I could hear him inhaling deeply catching my scent. He licked my crotch a few times and I began to feel aroused, to wanted him to take me. I moaned softly as he climbed on my back and mounted me. It didn't last long but I could feel something, the presence I had felt in my dream, growing, a power I did not understand flowing through me, as he came inside me.
I lay quietly for a few minutes, considering what had just happened and trying to wrap my head around what I was experiencing, looking for any way to explain why it felt almost normal. I had just been fucked by an enormous cougar, and it didn't seem to bother me; in fact, I had wanted it to happen. It was as if there was another intelligence inside me guiding my emotions and actions from deep within. I knew what was happening, but someone, no something else was in control.
