Derek

We ran frantically, branches clawing at our faces, roots catching at our feet. Jess tripped, sprawling to the ground. Rachel helped her up roughly, pulling her forward. But in that moment, Jess froze, her eyes widening as she stared into the thickening smoke behind us.

We ran frantically, branches clawing at our faces, roots catching at our feet. Jess tripped, sprawling to the ground. Rachel helped her up roughly, pulling her forward. But in that moment, Jess froze, her eyes widening as she stared into the thickening smoke behind us.

Something moved, something large, indistinct, weaving between the trees, whistles now blending with deep, guttural sounds that sent ice coursing through my veins. Jess pushed Rachel hard. "'Keep going,' she whispered urgently. We sprinted blindly, terror overriding exhaustion. My heart hammered painfully as darkness enveloped us entirely." Hours later, or perhaps minutes, time lost meaning.

Something moved, something large, indistinct, weaving between the trees, whistles now blending with deep, guttural sounds that sent ice coursing through my veins. Jess pushed Rachel hard. "'Keep going,' she whispered urgently. We sprinted blindly, terror overriding exhaustion. My heart hammered painfully as darkness enveloped us entirely." Hours later, or perhaps minutes, time lost meaning.

I stumbled onto a forest service road. I collapsed onto gravel, breathing raggedly. I glanced desperately around. Rachel emerged a moment later, eyes hollow, face streaked with dirt and tears. Jess never appeared. Days later, the rangers found no trace of Tyler, Marcus, Ben, or Jess. Rachel and I were the only survivors. The official report listed the area as restricted due to wildfire risk.

I stumbled onto a forest service road. I collapsed onto gravel, breathing raggedly. I glanced desperately around. Rachel emerged a moment later, eyes hollow, face streaked with dirt and tears. Jess never appeared. Days later, the rangers found no trace of Tyler, Marcus, Ben, or Jess. Rachel and I were the only survivors. The official report listed the area as restricted due to wildfire risk.

But we knew differently. There was no fire. There was no official investigation. Dunhollow quietly disappeared from maps, forgotten. Yet, sometimes late at night, I swear I still hear two sharp whistles from somewhere far away, just beyond my window, an invitation I will never answer. My name is Trevor Martinez.

But we knew differently. There was no fire. There was no official investigation. Dunhollow quietly disappeared from maps, forgotten. Yet, sometimes late at night, I swear I still hear two sharp whistles from somewhere far away, just beyond my window, an invitation I will never answer. My name is Trevor Martinez.

I've always preferred the solitude of hiking alone, capturing everything on my GoPro for my modest audience online. There's a certain clarity in isolation, especially in places like Los Padres National Forest, where the terrain is raw and unforgiving. This trip in particular was supposed to be straightforward. A two-night loop along the Devil's Backbone Trail, starting from the Neera campground.

I've always preferred the solitude of hiking alone, capturing everything on my GoPro for my modest audience online. There's a certain clarity in isolation, especially in places like Los Padres National Forest, where the terrain is raw and unforgiving. This trip in particular was supposed to be straightforward. A two-night loop along the Devil's Backbone Trail, starting from the Neera campground.

I'd done my research, steep ridgelines, thorny brush, and a handful of wildlife warnings. Nothing I hadn't handled before. It was late spring, and the California heat hadn't fully taken hold yet.

I'd done my research, steep ridgelines, thorny brush, and a handful of wildlife warnings. Nothing I hadn't handled before. It was late spring, and the California heat hadn't fully taken hold yet.

i hit the trail at dawn camera rolling birds sang intermittently as i navigated through dry chaparral taking steady strides across the rocky path by mid-morning the rhythmic crunch of my boots was the only thing accompanying me around midday the path narrowed and the chaparral became denser whipping at my sleeves it was then on an exposed ridge i first saw it just off the trail on a wide boulder

i hit the trail at dawn camera rolling birds sang intermittently as i navigated through dry chaparral taking steady strides across the rocky path by mid-morning the rhythmic crunch of my boots was the only thing accompanying me around midday the path narrowed and the chaparral became denser whipping at my sleeves it was then on an exposed ridge i first saw it just off the trail on a wide boulder

stood a strange stone cairn. At first glance, it looked like a normal stack of rocks, the kind hikers leave behind to mark obscure routes. But something felt off. Approaching cautiously, I realized it wasn't a simple stack. It spiraled inward, tight and deliberate, with no obvious point or message. Probably just someone's weird art project, I muttered to myself, half laughing.

stood a strange stone cairn. At first glance, it looked like a normal stack of rocks, the kind hikers leave behind to mark obscure routes. But something felt off. Approaching cautiously, I realized it wasn't a simple stack. It spiraled inward, tight and deliberate, with no obvious point or message. Probably just someone's weird art project, I muttered to myself, half laughing.

But the silence around me made my voice echo strangely, and I quickly pressed on. Hours passed, and as daylight stretched thin, I found myself noticing more spiraling cairns. Each one was smaller and more intricate than the last. They were leading away from the main trail, deeper into the rugged hills and canyons. Curiosity tugged at me.

But the silence around me made my voice echo strangely, and I quickly pressed on. Hours passed, and as daylight stretched thin, I found myself noticing more spiraling cairns. Each one was smaller and more intricate than the last. They were leading away from the main trail, deeper into the rugged hills and canyons. Curiosity tugged at me.

Maybe it was some forgotten historical trail, possibly a route left by locals? I checked my GPS, which flickered weakly under the dense canopy, the signal fading in and out unpredictably. Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and with the reassurance of being well equipped, I turned off the main path, following these peculiar markers into increasingly rough terrain.

Maybe it was some forgotten historical trail, possibly a route left by locals? I checked my GPS, which flickered weakly under the dense canopy, the signal fading in and out unpredictably. Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and with the reassurance of being well equipped, I turned off the main path, following these peculiar markers into increasingly rough terrain.