Part 1The Outline
Stay out of the woods.
I’m a wildlife biologist, and for several years I’ve been assigned to a conservation station deep in the heart of the Rocky Mountains.
My colleagues and I oversee the reintroduction of wolves in this region. Most of my work consists of tracking the wolves. We monitor their populations and study their movements using tracking collars we’ve placed on several members of the pack.
For months, everything went better than expected, but about two weeks ago, we noticed something strange. According to our trackers, the pack had begun avoiding one particular valley.
It started slowly; we noticed the pack spending less and less time in a pristine valley. Up to then, the wolves had moved through the valley fairly regularly, but we figured they were just settling into another part of the region. We soon realized that wasn’t the case at all; the pack was still around. They were simply avoiding the valley. The trackers painted a clear picture: the wolves went everywhere except the valley.
We held a staff meeting to discuss possible reasons for this.
There were ten of us squeezed into the small, rarely used conference room.
Mike, our lead researcher, stood up and handed out some printouts. On his way to the front, he said:
“Look at the printout.” He paused as the room filled with the sound of rustling paper.
“We mapped every collar signal we’ve received over the past two weeks. As you can see, the pack is still moving throughout the whole region.”
He pointed to the map.
“But they don’t enter the valley.”
He paused.
“Not once in the past two weeks.”
“The outline is almost perfect. They approach it, turn around, and go somewhere else. So what are we looking at?”
The room fell silent for a moment, people staring off into the distance or fixed on the page.
“Maybe another predator has moved into the valley,” Frank offered.
A mocking laugh rose from the other side of the room.
“Like what?” said Amanda.
“Bigfoot? Come on, Frank, you know even a mountain lion wouldn’t be enough to drive an entire pack out of its territory.”
“Well, what’s your brilliant idea?” Frank said sarcastically.
Amanda shrugged.
“Probably contaminated water.”
At that, the room erupted in criticism and defenses of Amanda’s explanation. The argument went on for a few minutes before Mike spoke up again.
“All right, that’s enough!” he ordered in a loud voice.
“Does anyone here have an explanation that’s based on evidence?”
The room was silent.
“I didn’t think so.”
Mike looked at the map again.
“Whatever is going on, we won’t find out by sitting here. We need someone in the field. So I’m asking for two volunteers to go into the valley and find evidence.”
I don’t know why, but I raised my hand.
“Great, thanks, Chris. Who else?” said Mike.
“I’ll go,” said Will from across the room.
“Great, pack your bags. Tomorrow morning I’ll drive you both to the trailhead.”
Part 2The Trail
The sun had barely come up, but Will and I had already been bouncing around in the back of Mike’s jeep for over an hour. A ten-mile road, open only to off-road vehicles, separated the research station from the only trail into the study area. It was slow going; the road was barely passable, more like a dry, rocky riverbed winding through the wilderness.
As we approached the trailhead, Mike shouted back to us over his shoulder:
“It’ll be just the two of you for a while; I’ll come back for you in three days, all right?”
Will and I nodded, and I glanced over at Will; his face showed a strange mix of excitement and fear. He was the youngest member of the team, fresh out of college and barely twenty-three.
“Hey,” I called to get his attention.
His blue eyes turned to me.
“Don’t worry about it; think of it as a camping trip.”
He nodded and forced a smile.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”
“Keep the radio on,” Mike cut in.
“If you run into any trouble, call me.”
“Got it.” I gave him a big thumbs-up.
“And don’t split up.”
“We won’t.”
The jeep stopped in a small clearing; a narrow trail disappeared into the pines. I grabbed my pack and jumped down onto the dirt; Will followed me. Mike called out to us as we headed for the trail.
“Stay safe, keep the radio on!” With that, he backed up and drove back down the road. The sound of the jeep echoed through the forest for a while, but soon everything went quiet. Almost too quiet: no birds, no wind in the trees, just silence.
I turned toward the trail, then toward Will. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for me to go.
“After you,” he said.
According to our maps, the valley was about five miles from the trailhead. The pace was slow; the trail was rough and steep in places. But what slowed us down most was the survey work we were doing.
At every mile, we stopped and examined the area for signs of wolves. In the first three miles we found very little evidence of them, but at miles four and five we found plenty of tracks and scat. That confirmed what the trackers had shown; the wolves were still in the valley area.
At the top of a small ridge, we stopped. Below us lay the valley. It was about six miles long and two miles wide. Groves of aspens dotted its open meadow, along with a few pines. A healthy creek ran from one end to the other; a beaver dam formed a small pond near the center of the valley.
“Well, there it is,” I said.
Will nodded.
“It really looks different from that map we’ve been staring at for weeks.”
“Sure does,” I said, pulling out the map with the tracker data points.
“It looks like the outline Mike was talking about is about 100 feet ahead.”
“Let’s check for signs over there,” Will replied.
Part 3The Marks
We headed for the edge of the valley; there, we found a heavy concentration of wolf tracks. The tracks formed a path along the border of the valley. It was strange to look at; the tracks seemed to simply refuse to go any farther. On the valley side, the ground didn’t bear a single track.
We were both fascinated by this unusual behavior. I turned to Will and said:
“Let’s follow the tracks for a bit; you go left, and I’ll go right, and we’ll meet back here at the trail in an hour.”
With a nod, he answered:
“Sounds good.”
I followed the tracks to the right for about a mile and a half, but I could see that they went on much farther; the tracks followed the perimeter of the valley, without a single print crossing it. I also started to notice marks on the trees along the perimeter. They were everywhere. Not on every tree, but close enough together that I could almost follow them from one trunk to the next. And every one of them was on the side of the tree facing the valley.
Marking trees isn’t uncommon in the natural world. Bears do it; deer and elk do it. But these were different; I had never seen marks like them. The bark had been torn away in long, ragged strips. Some of the gouges were more than an inch deep, exposing the pale wood underneath. I couldn’t think of any animal in the area capable of doing that.
When I got back to the trail, Will was already there. His eyes were wide with worry, but he smiled when he saw me.
“Did the tracks circle the valley?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you see marks on the trees?”
He swallowed and nodded.
“Yeah.”
I tried to play it down.
“It’s not that big a deal; lots of animals do that. It could just be one animal marking its territory; maybe Frank was right and there’s a new predator around.”
He thought about it before answering.
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
He looked out at the valley.
“Now what?” he asked.
I pointed to a grove of aspens near the pond. The ground there looked flat, and we’d have easy access to water.
“Let’s set up camp near those trees, and then we’ll log these findings.”
Part 4The Pack
We finished setting up camp in the middle of the afternoon. I was lounging lazily in the hammock I’d brought, while Will tried fishing in the pond. The valley was calm and peaceful. And the combination of exhaustion from the hike and the gentle swaying of the hammock sent me into a deep sleep.
When I woke up, Will was tending a fire and setting up the small camp stove we’d brought. I climbed out of the hammock and walked over to the fire.
“Hey,” Will said with a smile.
“Hey,” I yawned. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. You hungry? I was about to start dinner.”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I could eat.”
A few minutes later, we were enjoying rehydrated beef stroganoff around a comforting fire. The setting was beautiful; right then, I was glad I’d volunteered for this trip.
“Catch anything?” I asked Will.
He shook his head.
“No, I gave up pretty fast.”
He was looking out across the valley.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to go on.
“It’s just that I looked around while you were sleeping, and I can’t find any evidence of animals living here.”
He took a sip from his water bottle.
“I haven’t seen a single track, of any kind; I haven’t heard a single bird since we’ve been in the valley; even the beaver dam is abandoned. I haven’t seen any fish in the pond either.”
I shrugged and replied:
“It could just be the ecosystem adjusting to a predator being reintroduced to the food chain.”
He gave me a sardonic smile.
“Come on, man, you know it’s never that drastic; something else is going on here.”
I looked at him; his eyes told me he was serious. I nodded.
“Okay, you’re right. It’s unusual, but we need more evidence before we include it in our report.”
His jaw tightened.
“Tomorrow morning, our priority will be to look for evidence of any animal at all; if we find none, we’ll add that to our findings, then we’ll look for a cause.”
“Sounds good,” was all he said.
An hour later, we got ready for bed; after putting out the fire, we went into our separate tents. Several hours later, I was woken by howling and barking. Looking out of the tent, I saw that Will was already up; I pulled on my boots and quietly made my way over to him. He was holding our night-vision camera in his hand.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“It’s the wolves,” he whispered back.
“They’re at the edge of the valley.”
He handed me the camera, and I pointed it toward the perimeter. There were so many wolves, around fifty; they stood there at the edge of the valley; some ran back and forth along their trail, others stood still, staring into the valley, howling and barking. It was as if they were behind a pane of glass.
We watched for a while, and at one point a fight broke out within the pack; several large wolves surrounded a smaller one that was trying to defend itself as best it could, but the larger ones began pushing it toward the edge of the valley, the night air filling with furious snarls and the whimpers of their target. Finally, the weaker animal gave way as its attackers pushed it into the valley. The pack fell silent, and only the whimpering of the frightened animal could be heard. The wolf looked around frantically, then, in a moment of panic, it ran into the valley; it ran past our camp, going deeper, whimpering the whole way, and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
The pack outside the valley stood there, silently watching; then the alpha turned and walked away, followed by the others.
“What was that?” I murmured.
Will and I looked in the direction the wolf had run; it was farther north. We hadn’t been to that part of the valley yet. As we watched that way, far off, we heard a wolf’s frightened bark, and then the whole night went quiet.
We built a small fire and sat around it. Will finally spoke.
“What was that?”
I stared at the fire.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
The fire died down, and we eventually went back to our tents.
Part 5The Skinned Wolf
Morning came, and Will and I got ready for the day in silence. It wasn’t until after breakfast that we began talking to each other.
“I think we should try to find where that wolf went.” I broke the silence.
Will was looking at the pond, trying to skip a stone across the water.
“Okay,” he said, nodding slowly.
We gathered our gear, found the wolf’s tracks, and followed them. The tracks crossed the open meadow of the valley, heading toward the dense stands of pines at the far end. They disappeared behind a large bush. Behind it, we found the wolf, or what was left of it. Lying in the dirt was the wolf’s body. Its skin had been carefully removed and was missing. Its exposed muscles, bones, and tendons were covered in blood. It smelled horrible, but not a single fly, not a single maggot was in sight. Each of its four legs had been cut off cleanly, right at the ankle joint.
I turned to Will; his face was as white as I’m sure mine was.
“Let’s go back to camp,” I whispered.
Will didn’t need to be told twice. The wolf’s body was about two miles from our camp, and we ran the whole way. We were almost back when I stepped into a gopher hole. I heard my ankle crack, and I fell to the ground.
“Shit,” I groaned in pain. Will helped me up and helped me limp back to camp. I’d twisted my ankle, and it was badly swollen. I gritted my teeth as I took off my boot; it hurt to move.
Will was panicking.
“We have to get out of here,” he said.
“I know, but I can’t with my ankle like this.”
I gritted my teeth in pain.
“Call Mike on the radio.”
He handed it to me. I turned it on.
“Mike, can you hear me? We need help; I hurt my leg.”
Only static answered.
“Mike, are you there?”
Again, only static.
“The mountains must be blocking the signal,” I told Will.
“We’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down.”
He clenched his jaw but eventually agreed. For the rest of the day, we stayed in camp. Will only rarely looked away from the direction where we’d found the wolf. Every thirty minutes, he tried the radio; no one ever answered. At sunset, we heard a scream from where we’d found the wolf. It sounded like a woman screaming for her life. Will looked at me.
“It’s a mountain lion. That’s what’s causing all this.”
I nodded; a mountain lion’s scream sounds like a woman screaming.
“I agree, but it isn’t in a mountain lion’s nature to do that to a wolf.”
He shrugged.
“Whatever, if we can find a track or some scat, that’s proof enough, and we can be done with this.”
“Okay, tomorrow let’s find the proof, then head back to the trailhead.”
“What about your leg?” Will asked.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be better tomorrow.”
That reassured him, and he headed for his tent. I went to mine shortly after.
Part 6The Voice
The next morning, I found a note on my tent; it said:
You rest, I’m going to look for the cat. Will.
“Damn it, Will,” I muttered, looking around the area.
He was gone, probably for some time. My foot was still swollen, but not as painful as the night before. I dragged myself to the stove and made my breakfast. I decided that if I hadn’t seen him again within an hour, I would go after him.
An hour went by, and there was no sign of Will. I got to my feet and called out to him.
“Will!” His name echoed across the valley, with no reply.
“Will, where are you?” I shouted again; still nothing.
I picked out a stick to lean on, and slowly made my way down the valley. It was afternoon when I reached the wooded part. I walked past the skinned wolf; it didn’t seem to be decomposing in any way. I stopped and called for Will.
“Will! It’s Chris, are you okay?”
The silent forest didn’t answer; that’s when I saw Will’s footprints leading deeper in. I followed them as best I could. The tracks wound around a large boulder. I’ll never forget what I saw there. Will’s skinned body lay in a clearing full of blood. It looked as if his skin had been perfectly removed from his body. His feet and ankles were gone. His blue eyes had been taken out of his head and gently placed on a flat stone.
I could feel nausea rising in my throat. I turned away; the sight and the smell were too much for me. My eyes filled with tears. I wanted to leave, but the snap of a twig nearby froze me in place. Another twig snapped, followed by a loud noise in the bushes. It was close, less than fifty yards away. The rustling and snapping moved with purpose, then stopped. There was a moment of silence, then a dry, hollow voice echoed among the trees.
“Will! It’s Chris. Are you okay?”
It was my voice, a pale human imitation of my voice; it lacked cadence and emotion.
“Will, where are you?”
It imitated me again, then the rustling resumed. Adrenaline filled my veins, and I moved as fast as my foot allowed. I didn’t stop to pack my tent or grab my bag. The sun was setting as I made my way back toward the trail. As I was leaving the valley, the voice spoke again behind me. Only this time, it wasn’t my voice; it was Will’s.
“Chris, are you okay?”
“Chris, where are you going?”
In the dark, I stumbled along the trail. There was no moon that night, and I had no light with me. But I kept going. I couldn’t stop; every time I did, I heard strange noises behind me, far off. It sounded like bones grinding against bones.
Part 7The Return
It was a little before dawn when I stumbled out of the trail into the small clearing where Mike had dropped us off. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait too long before I heard the distant sound of Mike’s jeep climbing the mountain. Relief washed over me when the vehicle came into view. Mike got out of the jeep, smiling.
“Good to see you, Chris,” he called, but as he looked around, his smile gave way to a frown.
“Where’s Will?”
“Will’s gone,” was all I could say.
“What?”
“He’s gone.” Tears began to well up in my eyes.
But a noise came from the trail, heavy footsteps, and then Will appeared.
“Sorry,” said this Will with a smile. “I had to take a leak; I fell a little behind.”
He looked at me.
“Hey, Chris, you left your bag back there.” He handed me my bag.
“I didn’t want you to forget it,” he said, and a sly smile spread across his face.
I stared at him, incredulous and terrified.
“Great,” said Mike. “Let’s head back, guys.”
I turned to him, eyes wide.
“Why didn’t you answer the radio?” I whispered.
A puzzled look crossed his face.
“What do you mean? Will was in contact with me the whole time.”
“Yeah,” said the thing pretending to be Will.
“Don’t you remember, Chris? You asked me to handle the radio,” it said with a broad smile.
I stared at the ground, confused.
“Looks like you need some rest, Chris,” said Mike.
“Get in; we’ll do the debrief at the station.”
In a daze, I climbed into the back of the jeep. “Will” followed. In the back, we sat facing each other. I looked at him, and he looked at me; a broad, lazy smile never left the face of my dead friend. Dull yellowish-green eyes hid behind his skin. With every bump in the road, the stolen skin sagged loosely on a face that wasn’t its own. At one point, the skin around the left eye socket came loose, and gravity pulled it down the cheek, revealing blackened bone and decaying muscle hiding underneath. The thing calmly used a finger to push the skin back up and put it in place. All the while smiling and looking at me.
As soon as we got to the station, I jumped out of the jeep and rushed to my quarters. I’m still here as I write this; I don’t know what to do. The thing is at my door; I can see its shadow under the door and hear its heavy breathing. I’m writing this because I doubt anyone here would believe me, and right now I’m not sure any of us will leave this place alive. Please, heed my warning; there are things out there that we were never meant to find.
Stay out of the woods.
You never know what will follow you home.