Catherine

Wind gusted over the ridge howling through rock crevices like something screaming far off in the distance. We kept moving, careful and deliberate. Sarah was ahead, her orange pack barely visible. Then she disappeared. Just like that. I called out her name. No answer. I waited. Called again. Still nothing. Then from the fog ahead I heard her voice. Hey. Back here. Flat. Quiet. Wrong.

I started walking toward the sound. She called again. Hey, this way. Except her voice was coming from the left, not the trail. Toward the cliff. I stopped and looked down. Bare rock. A hundred foot drop. And then I saw a figure, just for a second, in the mist. My height. My build. Back turned. Slowly walking away from the trail. But the backpack was black, not orange.

I started walking toward the sound. She called again. Hey, this way. Except her voice was coming from the left, not the trail. Toward the cliff. I stopped and looked down. Bare rock. A hundred foot drop. And then I saw a figure, just for a second, in the mist. My height. My build. Back turned. Slowly walking away from the trail. But the backpack was black, not orange.

Then Sarah's hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. Where the hell are you going? She snapped. I turned. She was panting, pale, eyes wide. I heard you, I said. You called me. She shook her head. No. I lost sight of you. I've been calling for five minutes. You didn't respond. We stood there in silence, surrounded by white, both trying not to panic.

Then Sarah's hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. Where the hell are you going? She snapped. I turned. She was panting, pale, eyes wide. I heard you, I said. You called me. She shook her head. No. I lost sight of you. I've been calling for five minutes. You didn't respond. We stood there in silence, surrounded by white, both trying not to panic.

Eventually, we made it across Knife Edge, slowly and without talking. We bivvied just below the summit, on a narrow, flat patch of rock. It wasn't ideal, but it was flat and protected from wind. We didn't eat much. We just stared out into the fog, waiting for it to lift.

Eventually, we made it across Knife Edge, slowly and without talking. We bivvied just below the summit, on a narrow, flat patch of rock. It wasn't ideal, but it was flat and protected from wind. We didn't eat much. We just stared out into the fog, waiting for it to lift.

it never did that night i woke again but it wasn't noise this time it was the sound of my own voice faint just outside the tent hey back here i froze then it said again closer hey this way i slowly unzipped the tent and stuck my head out into the dark nothing Then, just at the edge of the fog, I saw bare footprints in the gravel. Not boot prints. Not animal tracks. Bare feet. Human. Long. Narrow.

it never did that night i woke again but it wasn't noise this time it was the sound of my own voice faint just outside the tent hey back here i froze then it said again closer hey this way i slowly unzipped the tent and stuck my head out into the dark nothing Then, just at the edge of the fog, I saw bare footprints in the gravel. Not boot prints. Not animal tracks. Bare feet. Human. Long. Narrow.

They circled the tent. Once. Twice. Then disappeared into the stone. I woke Sarah. We sat up until sunrise, staring at the wall of fog, flares in hand. She didn't say a word, just stared at her bare feet. One heel had a fresh cut. She didn't remember leaving the tent. When the fog started to clear that morning, I finally stepped outside fully to look around.

They circled the tent. Once. Twice. Then disappeared into the stone. I woke Sarah. We sat up until sunrise, staring at the wall of fog, flares in hand. She didn't say a word, just stared at her bare feet. One heel had a fresh cut. She didn't remember leaving the tent. When the fog started to clear that morning, I finally stepped outside fully to look around.

That's when I noticed something wrong with the footprints. There were two sets. One set came from the trail behind us. Boot prints. Mine. The other set came from the woods. From nowhere. Bare. Humanish. They circled our tent and only one set left. Sarah looked at me and asked quietly, Did you come back inside last night? I didn't answer, because I wasn't sure. The fog didn't lift.

That's when I noticed something wrong with the footprints. There were two sets. One set came from the trail behind us. Boot prints. Mine. The other set came from the woods. From nowhere. Bare. Humanish. They circled our tent and only one set left. Sarah looked at me and asked quietly, Did you come back inside last night? I didn't answer, because I wasn't sure. The fog didn't lift.

It retreated, like it had just been waiting for us to move on. We started our descent down the Dudley Trail late that morning. It was a steep, winding scramble over boulders slick with moss and patches of snow that hadn't yet melted. The knife edge was still behind us, partially veiled in a cloud that clung unnaturally to the ridge.

It retreated, like it had just been waiting for us to move on. We started our descent down the Dudley Trail late that morning. It was a steep, winding scramble over boulders slick with moss and patches of snow that hadn't yet melted. The knife edge was still behind us, partially veiled in a cloud that clung unnaturally to the ridge.

A ragged piece of sky broke through over our heads, but the trail below was shaded and cold. Sarah didn't talk much. She'd barely touched her food. Her face looked gaunt, like she'd aged five years overnight. Her lips were dry, eyes bloodshot. Every time I checked on her, she was staring back up toward the summit.

A ragged piece of sky broke through over our heads, but the trail below was shaded and cold. Sarah didn't talk much. She'd barely touched her food. Her face looked gaunt, like she'd aged five years overnight. Her lips were dry, eyes bloodshot. Every time I checked on her, she was staring back up toward the summit.

We made it a few miles before she stopped and sat on a boulder near a bend in the trail. She pulled off her gloves and started rubbing her arms. I feel like I'm freezing, she said. Even with the layers, my chest, it's like it's hollow. I checked her temperature. Her skin felt cold, ice cold, even though she was bundled up tighter than me.

We made it a few miles before she stopped and sat on a boulder near a bend in the trail. She pulled off her gloves and started rubbing her arms. I feel like I'm freezing, she said. Even with the layers, my chest, it's like it's hollow. I checked her temperature. Her skin felt cold, ice cold, even though she was bundled up tighter than me.

No visible frostbite, no fever, but she was shivering and sweating at the same time. Something was wrong, but we were still hours from shelter. We pushed on. The farther we got, the more I noticed how wrong the woods felt. There was no wind, not a single bird. Even the snowmelt streams were silent.