Derek

Shivering despite the mild night, I whispered into my camera, documenting my unease. Something feels off here, like I shouldn't have followed those cairns. I paused, suddenly aware of a faint noise in the trees above. A subtle scraping, almost like fingernails lightly dragging on bark. My breathing quickened. I turned the camera lens toward the trees, squinting into the darkness.

Shivering despite the mild night, I whispered into my camera, documenting my unease. Something feels off here, like I shouldn't have followed those cairns. I paused, suddenly aware of a faint noise in the trees above. A subtle scraping, almost like fingernails lightly dragging on bark. My breathing quickened. I turned the camera lens toward the trees, squinting into the darkness.

For a brief second, I thought I saw movement. A vague silhouette, human-shaped, standing absolutely still. Hello? My voice cracked slightly, betraying my fear. Silence swallowed my words, offering no reassurance. I tried convincing myself it was just shadows and tired eyes. But deep down, an unsettling thought lingered as dawn slowly broke over the canyon walls. I think it knows I'm lost.

For a brief second, I thought I saw movement. A vague silhouette, human-shaped, standing absolutely still. Hello? My voice cracked slightly, betraying my fear. Silence swallowed my words, offering no reassurance. I tried convincing myself it was just shadows and tired eyes. But deep down, an unsettling thought lingered as dawn slowly broke over the canyon walls. I think it knows I'm lost.

Morning arrived with a faint, muted sunlight filtering through heavy layers of oak leaves, barely illuminating the campsite. I sat up, groggy, trying to shake off the fatigue from the night's unrest. Checking my GPS again only deepened my unease. The device showed a distorted screen, the arrow spinning slowly, unable to lock onto any reliable coordinates.

Morning arrived with a faint, muted sunlight filtering through heavy layers of oak leaves, barely illuminating the campsite. I sat up, groggy, trying to shake off the fatigue from the night's unrest. Checking my GPS again only deepened my unease. The device showed a distorted screen, the arrow spinning slowly, unable to lock onto any reliable coordinates.

My compass was no better, trembling unsteadily in my palm. Frustration crept into my thoughts. I rarely got lost, and certainly not this thoroughly. Determined, I packed up quickly and started back up the slope, certain I could retrace my steps to the main trail. But nothing looked familiar. Each hill and gully seemed interchangeable, repeating endlessly in every direction.

My compass was no better, trembling unsteadily in my palm. Frustration crept into my thoughts. I rarely got lost, and certainly not this thoroughly. Determined, I packed up quickly and started back up the slope, certain I could retrace my steps to the main trail. But nothing looked familiar. Each hill and gully seemed interchangeable, repeating endlessly in every direction.

I felt my pulse quicken as the morning wore on, my sense of direction increasingly uncertain. Midway through the morning I came across a single cairn, but this one was different, toppled, scattered deliberately. Nearby, in the soft soil, were fresh tracks. Leaning down, I examined them closely. The prints resembled a human foot, elongated, with oddly spread toes pressed deeply into the ground.

I felt my pulse quicken as the morning wore on, my sense of direction increasingly uncertain. Midway through the morning I came across a single cairn, but this one was different, toppled, scattered deliberately. Nearby, in the soft soil, were fresh tracks. Leaning down, I examined them closely. The prints resembled a human foot, elongated, with oddly spread toes pressed deeply into the ground.

A chill crawled up my spine. I scanned the trees cautiously, scanning slowly in all directions. There was nothing visible, yet the sensation of being watched was impossible to ignore. By noon, desperation set in. My water supply dwindled rapidly, forcing me to find a stream or spring soon.

A chill crawled up my spine. I scanned the trees cautiously, scanning slowly in all directions. There was nothing visible, yet the sensation of being watched was impossible to ignore. By noon, desperation set in. My water supply dwindled rapidly, forcing me to find a stream or spring soon.

I stumbled down an overgrown hillside, leaves and branches scratching my face and arms, until I found a narrow stream. Relief flooded me, momentarily pushing aside the growing dread. But when I tried to fill my filter, it clogged immediately. The water was clouded with fine, muddy silt, unusable. Panic gnawed at my composure. Hunger and thirst weakened my limbs, clouding my thoughts.

I stumbled down an overgrown hillside, leaves and branches scratching my face and arms, until I found a narrow stream. Relief flooded me, momentarily pushing aside the growing dread. But when I tried to fill my filter, it clogged immediately. The water was clouded with fine, muddy silt, unusable. Panic gnawed at my composure. Hunger and thirst weakened my limbs, clouding my thoughts.

I knew dehydration could quickly become deadly, especially in terrain this rugged and isolated. just when i thought things couldn't get worse i stumbled into something that made my stomach twist a crude makeshift shelter constructed from twisted branches and piled pine boughs i approached carefully my heartbeat quickening inside the shelter i found a torn faded daypack

I knew dehydration could quickly become deadly, especially in terrain this rugged and isolated. just when i thought things couldn't get worse i stumbled into something that made my stomach twist a crude makeshift shelter constructed from twisted branches and piled pine boughs i approached carefully my heartbeat quickening inside the shelter i found a torn faded daypack

Hesitantly, I reached inside and retrieved a slab of bark etched with shaky, desperate writing. No trail leads out. It follows in silence. My hands shook as I dropped the bark. I stepped back quickly, nearly losing my balance, breathing heavily. No birds sang overhead, and no insects buzzed nearby. The silence felt tangible, heavy, oppressive.

Hesitantly, I reached inside and retrieved a slab of bark etched with shaky, desperate writing. No trail leads out. It follows in silence. My hands shook as I dropped the bark. I stepped back quickly, nearly losing my balance, breathing heavily. No birds sang overhead, and no insects buzzed nearby. The silence felt tangible, heavy, oppressive.

For the rest of the afternoon, I struggled forward, marking trees with my knife to track my path. Yet, after hours of wandering, I returned to the same shelter, my own marks mysteriously missing or erased entirely. Exhausted, I shouted into the still air, "'Is anyone there?' My voice echoed sharply off the canyon walls, repeating mockingly.

For the rest of the afternoon, I struggled forward, marking trees with my knife to track my path. Yet, after hours of wandering, I returned to the same shelter, my own marks mysteriously missing or erased entirely. Exhausted, I shouted into the still air, "'Is anyone there?' My voice echoed sharply off the canyon walls, repeating mockingly.