Footprints

I pointed my rifle to the ground and used my left hand to shield my face as I walked through the branches. I felt the cold tinge of snow on the back of my neck and tried to shake it out. After giving up, I grabbed the rifle with both of my hands and proceeded further into the woods in knee deep snow. I knew the likelihood of sneaking up on a deer was basically zero. It was a bright, calm day and the forest was quiet, unlike my steps. On the other hand, deer were reluctant to move in this weather and if nothing else, maybe I’ll find some tracks and be able to gauge their movements. I walked through another branch cluster and stopped. I listened.

There was nothing, absolute silence. The forest was still and the snow glimmered with a million tiny crystals. I took a deep breath and smiled. It was magnificent. The stillness, the untouched snow, the cold breeze, it was all beautiful. I continued in this blissful state, slowly making my way through, stopping frequently to listen and to take it all in.

And then I heard something. I gripped my rifle tighter and listened. The noise sounded like someone walking, but you could never be too sure. The branches would sometimes creak and break from the snow. Nevertheless, slowly, as quietly as possible, stopping every two or three steps, I made my way in that direction. I couldn’t hear anything anymore, but maybe they’ll be footprints.

I came up to a forest cradle. It was protected from the wind and snow by robust fir and pine trees. I saw footprints, but they were human footprints. This was odd. I was on private land and I knew no one was supposed to be here. Probably someone just trespassing for hunting.

Probably…

I wasn’t sure what to do, so I took a closer look at the footprints and tried to discern where they came from and where they were going. I followed the steps, but they seemed to be going in circles and coming out of nowhere. The longer I stayed here, the more my inner voice protested. I remembered how they warned us in the course that if you come on someone where they’re not supposed to be, you never confront them, ‘cause you never know…

I decided to get out the way I came, but before I could take two steps, the wind picked up and threw the snow down from the high branches. I looked up for the first time and something caught my eye. There was an odd pattern that seemed to be burnt into the branches. It was hard to tell from this angle, so I moved under it, carefully placing my feet not to make too much noise. As soon as I raised my eyes, my heart sank. A pentagram. Time to go. I knew that some people did the whole pentagram thing for fun, but someone was very determined to be able to burn out the symbol in the branches this high, and maybe they won’t appreciate their hard work going to waste when someone discovers their hiding place.

I gripped my rifle a little harder than I wanted to admit, but tried to calm myself. The last thing that I needed is to accidentally shoot an overenthusiastic teenager. I took three steps and heard an odd sound. I decided not to wait to find out what it was and stepped firmly forward.

I stopped in my tracks, blinking profusely. It was dark. And moist. And warm. And indoors. I placed the rifle butt into my shoulder, still pointing it to the ground, and tried to step back. I kind of hoped that I would step back into the snow, but no such thing happened. I took another step and bumped into a wall. Then I heard someone speak. I didn’t understand a word, but it came from in front of me and the tone was demanding. I strained my eyes and started to make out a figure about twenty meters ahead of me. He came closer and spoke again. This time there was even less patience in his voice.

“Stop.” I said. Even if he didn’t understand me, the tone of my voice should have telegraphed what I wanted from him.

He did stop. But then he muttered something, spat on the ground, and continued towards me.

My eyes started to slowly get used to the darkness and I saw a large knife in his hands. I raised my rifle at him and said

“Stop. Or I will shoot.”

He didn’t even think of stopping and now he was less than ten meters away. All I could think about was how many people freeze when they face danger; how they don’t believe it’s happening, that it could be happening. He was coming dangerously close and I saw his eyes. He’s going to kill me. I squeezed my finger without further thought.

The deafening noise jumped off the walls, but I barely heard it. My gaze was glued to the man. He let out a weak gasp, tried to take another step, and dropped to my feet. I kept my rifle pointed at him.

I watched him for any movements. Then, I kicked him.

Nothing.

I turned him with my foot and saw the blood all over his chest. I was pretty sure he was dead, but I moved the knife away from the body, just in case. Looked like I hit him in the heart or the lungs. That’s where you always aim on an animal, so it dies quickly.

I could see better now. Enough time had passed for my eyes to adjust. He was dressed in a black robe, and nothing in his face looked all too remarkable. The blood was now pooling on the floor in the middle of a pentagram, where I was standing just a few moments before. I finally took my eyes off him and looked at the knife, which tuned out to be a dagger.

My attention shifted when I heard something from the corner. I aimed my rifle and saw a figure in a cage. A small cage, like a dog cage. And in it a woman saying something in a language I had never heard before on my life. She sounded like she was pleading for help, but I was slow to react. Something about her…

I made a few steps toward her and took a good look. Her proportions were off. The eyes too big, slanted; the mouth too large. She was still talking and I could see that the size and number of her teeth was off.  I knelt just out of reach of her stretched out arms and saw that she was bleeding profusely. I looked straight into her eyes with horror. She looked into mine with desperation.

I placed the rifle by my side and slowly extended my hand towards her. She stopped talking and just stared at me, looking into my eyes. Then she grabbed me by my wrist so hard that when I tried to pull back my arm, I couldn’t shake her off.

Oh, thank God! I heard in my head. This is going to be weird, but don’t worry.

Weird didn’t come close to describing it. It was like a mushroom trip. I saw faces I’d never seen before, but I knew who they were.

This is my sister.

This, my childhood friend.

Here, I’m on a romantic date.

And here, I’m walking back home after a disappointing night.

I’m in a new town.

I walk down an empty flooded road. My feet are wet and cold.

I’m in a room. This room.

A man is yelling and tries to jump me. I fight back.

I look into his eyes and drown in his thoughts.

I wake from pain. Everything feels wet.

I hear chanting and then a noise louder than I’ve ever heard before.

I see my own face.

The vision faded and I sat there in a stupor for a few moments. I finally remembered to pull away my arm and the lifeless limb of the woman dropped to the floor.  

I now knew where I am and that I can probably never get back.