Laura Krantz

As the creature skulked off, Mayanzinski abandoned his tent and retreated to the fire, bolt awake.

It hadn't gone away.

He could still hear it breathing behind a nearby line of trees.

And he still had no idea what it was.

I'm trying to put myself in his shoes, all spun up on adrenaline and fear, palms sweaty, hands shaking, stomach churning.

The night seems very dark and full of terrors.

No way I'm sleeping.

But then, once things calm down again and the adrenaline levels drop, I can imagine feeling a little tired.

And that's what happened to Mayanzinski.

It was 2 a.m.

He'd hiked all day and had been up for hours.

And after a bit, he started to doze off.

But then another one came at him, and another one, and another.

And they weren't falling out of any tree.

Something was throwing them.

Bears don't have opposable thumbs, and they don't throw things.

The creature, whatever it was, eventually shuffled off.

Mayanzinski opted to stay close to the fire until dawn.

When he went looking for animal tracks the next morning, he didn't find any.

Too many pine needles, not enough mud.