Catherine

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.

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.

The trail twisted through a gully lined with black spruce, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us from the trees, always just out of sight. Then Sarah started talking to herself. At first it was just mumbling. then whole conversations. Her voice would change mid-sentence, cadence, pitch, even accent.

The trail twisted through a gully lined with black spruce, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us from the trees, always just out of sight. Then Sarah started talking to herself. At first it was just mumbling. then whole conversations. Her voice would change mid-sentence, cadence, pitch, even accent.

I heard her repeat a full conversation we'd had two weeks ago in Vermont, word for word. Then she said something I hadn't said out loud, something I'd only thought, in the tent back on the summit. I didn't mention it, not yet. We reached the Russell Pond shelter by late afternoon. It was a lean-to. Three wooden walls, open front, and a raised platform barely big enough for two sleeping pads.

I heard her repeat a full conversation we'd had two weeks ago in Vermont, word for word. Then she said something I hadn't said out loud, something I'd only thought, in the tent back on the summit. I didn't mention it, not yet. We reached the Russell Pond shelter by late afternoon. It was a lean-to. Three wooden walls, open front, and a raised platform barely big enough for two sleeping pads.

No one else around. No sign anyone had been there in weeks. We unpacked, built a fire, and boiled what little water we had left. That's when I noticed her shirt, lifted as she knelt by the fire. Scratches, not surface level. Deep ones. Three, maybe four long gouges across her ribs, angling down toward her stomach, still raw. "'What the hell is that?' I asked.

No one else around. No sign anyone had been there in weeks. We unpacked, built a fire, and boiled what little water we had left. That's when I noticed her shirt, lifted as she knelt by the fire. Scratches, not surface level. Deep ones. Three, maybe four long gouges across her ribs, angling down toward her stomach, still raw. "'What the hell is that?' I asked.

She looked down like she hadn't noticed, touched them lightly, didn't flinch. "'I... I think I scratched myself on a rock,' she said. "'Or branches. I don't know. It doesn't hurt.' but the skin around them was pale and shiny, like it was healing wrong. She didn't want to talk after that. Just crawled into her bag, rolled away from the fire, and passed out. I stayed up for a while.

She looked down like she hadn't noticed, touched them lightly, didn't flinch. "'I... I think I scratched myself on a rock,' she said. "'Or branches. I don't know. It doesn't hurt.' but the skin around them was pale and shiny, like it was healing wrong. She didn't want to talk after that. Just crawled into her bag, rolled away from the fire, and passed out. I stayed up for a while.

The fire crackled. The sky above was perfectly clear, stars sharp and bright, and that dead silence still pressed in around the trees. Then I heard it again. Footsteps. Slow, dragging, coming from the woods behind the shelter. Not boots, not hooves, bare feet on frozen earth. I grabbed the flare gun and held my breath. The steps circled the shelter once, then again, then a voice, Sarah's voice.

The fire crackled. The sky above was perfectly clear, stars sharp and bright, and that dead silence still pressed in around the trees. Then I heard it again. Footsteps. Slow, dragging, coming from the woods behind the shelter. Not boots, not hooves, bare feet on frozen earth. I grabbed the flare gun and held my breath. The steps circled the shelter once, then again, then a voice, Sarah's voice.

Come on, it's okay, we can go now. But she was asleep, right next to me. I turned to look at her, still bundled, still facing the wall. The voice came again, from the woods this time. Come on, it's okay. This time it wasn't just Sarah's voice. It was mine too. Layered. Speaking at the same time. Like it was practicing. I stayed still, trying to breathe silently. The fire crackled louder.

Come on, it's okay, we can go now. But she was asleep, right next to me. I turned to look at her, still bundled, still facing the wall. The voice came again, from the woods this time. Come on, it's okay. This time it wasn't just Sarah's voice. It was mine too. Layered. Speaking at the same time. Like it was practicing. I stayed still, trying to breathe silently. The fire crackled louder.

The footsteps stopped. Then something sniffed, long and wet, just behind the back wall of the shelter. And then, silence. I must have passed out at some point. When I woke up, Sarah was gone. The fire had gone out. Ashes cold. Her pack was still there. Boots too. I found her footprints in the snow leading away from the shelter, and another set next to them. Identical, but spaced wider. Heavier.