But there had been something, I was certain of it. And as we turned to head back toward the cabin, it felt as if something still lurked in the woods, watching us. My skin prickled. My thoughts scattered as we stumbled down the trail, amidst shifting shadows, beneath a sky that deepened to the color of pomegranate. And there was something that I couldn’t quite remember, almost as if I had left the stove turned on or misplaced my keys.
The trails now looked foreign in the fading light. As soon as we came to the first fork, I realized that I didn’t know which way to turn. I paused and glanced around, trying to get my bearings, looking for some familiar landmark but seeing none. Meanwhile, the dog blundered ahead, too impatient to wait for me. He jerked the leash out of my hand, and we had to traipse after him. I hoped that he might have an uncanny sense of direction that would be able lead us safely back.
Unfortunately, his uncanny sense of direction led us right to a rabbit that scurried off into dusky shadows. The path we were on took us to the river’s edge.
“We didn’t come this way, Mom,” Tucker said with a heavy sigh.
“I know,” I said.
Sunset bled into twilight, the sun sold her kingdom to a handful of wayward stars and a bloated moon. And none of them gave us enough light to see where we were.
“We’ll find our way back, no problem,” I told him with a bravado I didn’t feel. “All we have to do is head back down the mountain. Eventually we’ll find a trail that will lead us to the cabin.”
“I’m hungry,” Tucker said. “Maybe we can find some berries or something we can eat.” He paused beside a suspicious bush and began to finger through the leaves.
I dug deep into my pocket, pulled out that half-eaten granola bar and handed it to him. Just then I heard something rustling in the thicket behind us, saplings wisped and cricked beneath the weight of something large stealthily moving nearer. A fragrance carried on the breeze, like toadstools and cobwebs.
Samwise growled and strained at the leash.
Some woodland creature was following us. I reached for Tucker’s hand, pushed him in front of me on the trail.
“Come on,” I told him. “Let’s go.”
He tried to scramble over the rocky terrain, now sodden with water. His feet slid beneath him and he almost fell into the creek. I grabbed him by the jacket, pulled him back onto the path. He was tired, both of us were. The only one with energy left was the dog and he kept snuffling at the bushes, growling low, his hackles up.
That was when I noticed a flash of light, bobbing and weaving through the thicket up ahead of us.
“Is somebody there?” a voice called. A safe, familiar voice.
“Here!” I shouted back.
Light was spilling through the trees, drawing nearer.
Meanwhile, Samwise growled even louder, teeth snapping at twilight dusk and I could barely hang on to him. His leash slipped through my fingers but I managed to grab it with my other hand.
“No, boy! Don’t!” I didn’t want him to charge after whatever was following us. Could be a bear or mountain lion. He wouldn’t survive a fight with something like that. “Stay.”
Then I saw that it was Mr. Ash coming toward us, the caretaker at the inn. He must have hiked off the main trail, just like us, down through vines and thorns, for his shirt was torn and he had a gash across one cheek. He turned the flashlight on us as he approached. At that moment, when his light cascaded into the bushes all around us, I was finally able to see what had been following us through the woods. It was only a shapeless outline; still I could make out something huge—much taller than me—with broad shoulders, less than an arm’s length away from us. Then the light shifted and instantly the creature’s shape melted into the surrounding darkness.
It vanished.
Whatever had been following us just disappeared.
I shuddered. Samwise sniffed the ground curiously.
Mr. Ash was beside us then and the sense of danger was gone, almost as if it had never existed.
“You’re off the main trail,” he said, though it sounded almost like a question. “Lost?”
“Yeah,” I answered, rubbing my hands, noticing a chill bite in the wind. “I’m not sure how we ended up down here by the river.”
“Come on.” He reached down to Tucker and easily pulled him into his arms.
“How did you know we were here?” I asked. We were headed toward the summit that led back to the Ponderosa Trail. I was winded from the climb and my words came out separated by long pauses for air.
“You didn’t unpack your car.” He carried Tucker, who was already asleep in his arms. Samwise scampered alongside the two of us, weaving between us from time to time. “And there were no lights on in your cabin, so I figured you must have gone for a hike.”
I smiled reluctantly.
“Be careful of the woods, Maddie,” he said, his face masked in shadow, his tone serious, his flashlight aimed steadily before us. “These paths aren’t as friendly as they look. It’s easy to get lost on the Ponderosa Trail. Be best to stay off it.”
I nodded. The moonlight fell down through the leaves and branches, outlining him in silver light. He was a handsome man, more handsome than his father, broader at the shoulders and maybe a full hand taller.