Chapter 5 #2
The first time I came here was with my dad and brother.
My dad was an adventurer, a feature he had passed down to Andy especially.
I’d inherited a bit of it myself, but my tastes were more artistically inclined.
My dad and brother both had always wanted to see the mountains.
Dad always would say how he wanted to travel through the entire mountain range, over state lines.
He and Andy would talk at length through family dinners about it, then would make grand plans for great treks across all the ranges.
Meanwhile, my mother and I would roll our eyes and shake our heads hearing the two of them talk such a big game.
It should have been less of a surprise, right around the time Andy and I had turned fourteen, that Dad had gifted us with a one-week camping trip.
It was freezing; the winter hadn’t quite given way to the spring thaw.
I’d sat in our tent at night huddled between them while we talked about life and love.
Neither me nor my brother were angsty, troublemaking broody teens.
My parents had somehow figured out the perfect ratio of freedom and discipline.
As long as we got good grades and stayed out of trouble, we could pretty much do what we wanted.
No topic was off the table, no subject too taboo.
There was rarely any judgment, at least on my dad’s part.
He was open-minded, progressive, and free-spirited.
I was a lot like him in that sense. I had a slight rebellious streak, which I channeled into my art.
I loved all things punk and rock however, the death of my mother had opened the floodgates, and the past came pouring out.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize I had ventured farther than ever before.
The scenery had changed dramatically. I came back to my senses and found myself looking across nothing but a bleak, barren mountainside.
Gone were the trees that lined the paths.
No grass or flowers were growing here. The crackling underneath my feet wasn’t from the still-slumbering earth.
Loose rocks and gravel had replaced the soil, and the landscape became more grey the farther I climbed.
The path was becoming exceedingly difficult, the grade increasing with nearly every step I took.
Several times I was tempted to turn back.
I feared I was lost, but for some reason, I wanted to push on.
The higher I went, the more I wanted to see where I would end up.
Maybe I’d be rewarded with an astounding view.
I looked ahead of me, and the path disappeared completely.
It had become so steep, I was forced to use my hands to crawl the rest of the way.
The loose gravel made it even more challenging, causing me to lose my footing more than once.
The air became bitingly cold. My teeth were chattering, and my lungs were feeling the burn from the drop in temperature.
Once I reached the spot where I thought the trail would end, I was overjoyed to see my efforts had been well worth it.
I was standing by the edge of the cliffside, taking in an absolutely breathtaking, unobstructed view of the mountains.
It was nothing but peaks and valleys as far as the eye could see.
I pulled my puffy coat tighter around me and lowered the edge of my wool beanie.
The wind whipped around me, but I was too enraptured by the scenery to let it be a bother.
I was so high up, I could see straight across some of the lower peaks to the other side.
The landscape was covered by a foggy mist. Looking closely, I swore I noticed the verdant signs of grass and trees in the far distance.
I peered over the side of the cliff and shuddered. It was almost a straight drop to the bottom. The mountain seemed to harbor no life whatsoever, nature’s warning to stay away. I took a step back, setting my sights on the vivid patches of green I had spotted.
A sudden sound made me jump. The wind had picked up significantly.
The noise came once again, together with a rustling from within nearby sparse foliage.
Dry twigs snapped, a disturbance in the otherwise desolate terrain.
Quickly I decided I had perhaps overstayed my welcome, but I couldn’t resist the urge to take a few pictures before I left.
I was a sucker for a view, and this one was too good to leave uncaptured on film.
I looked toward the skyline for the green among the grey.
Satisfied with the shots I was able to procure, I was putting my camera away when I heard the snapping sound yet again.
I was going to attribute it to the increasing wind, then I heard it: a low growl accompanied by more snapping.
I turned around, looking for the source, but saw nothing.
The noise grew louder, as if something was approaching.
My body shook, paralyzed by fear. The reality of my situation became frighteningly clear.
I was alone, possibly lost, on the edge of a cliff.
The growling became more distinct. There was no mistaking it now.
This was no wind, and I needed to get back to camp.
The sounds stopped, leaving behind an eerie silence.
I still hadn’t seen anyone or anything. Keeping my movements slow and composed, I started to walk toward the path back down the mountain, but a flash of golden brown, followed immediately by a second, stopped me dead in my tracks.
Two of the biggest wolves I had ever seen came into view.
Their size was unnatural. They approached me with caution, walking side by side, their huge bodies coming between me and my only means of escape.
I had no choice but to back away, my feet unsteady on the ground.
How is this possible? I thought. In all my years of coming here, I had never seen wolves, much less ones of this size.
Had I accidentally stumbled onto a den? And if so, since when did wolves have dens in so uninhabitable a place?
The pair emitted more low growls as they advanced, their pearly-white canines fully visible.
I could only continue to retreat. I broke out into a nervous cold sweat.
They were cornering me. I was swiftly running out of room as the mountainside became narrower and narrower.
I’d soon be stuck on the edge of the cliff with nowhere to go but down.
I had the presence of mind not to make eye contact with the pair, afraid it would appear as a sign of aggression.
If they didn’t look so bloodthirsty, they’d actually be quite arresting, with their thick shoulders and shiny, dense coats; each had light-blue eyes, like those of a husky.
They were easily twice the size of an average wolf, and they looked eerily similar to each other.
Their movements slowed to a halt, and they eyed me curiously, cocking their heads to one side and then the other.
I was now totally out of options. There was no more path left.
Short of running at them to make a break for it, I was stuck.
My adrenaline spiked to an all-time high.
I felt the wetness on my upper lip and under my arms, and my body was trembling.
My legs were growing weak, losing their ability to hold me up.
The wolves simply stood there, motionless, and observed me.
Then surprisingly, and to my great relief, they gradually backed up.
It was the strangest behavior I had ever seen in a wild animal.
I was no expert on lupines, but to me their actions seemed… planned.
The space between the three of us expanded, giving me enough room to be able to take a small step away from the cliff.
It was a grave error. As soon as I moved, one of the wolves lunged forward and leaped into the air, baring his teeth.
Time seemed to stand still as I watched the creature fly directly at me.
I could hear my breathing and felt the air moving through every strand of my hair.
Each beat of my heart boomed from inside my body and into my head.
Its snarl shook me to the pit of my stomach, and I reacted with a giant, slippery step backward, without thinking.
Midjump, the wolf’s snarl turned into a whine, and he was jerked back while still in the air, as though on an invisible leash.
It was too late for me. I wasn’t able to regain my balance.
The ground and my legs gave out from under me, and I plunged backward down the cliff, my scream echoing into the vast emptiness.
I clawed at whatever I thought my hands could grab, but there was nothing but rocks and hollowed-out branches, which broke off the moment my fingers took hold of them.
My heart was beating out of my chest. Tumbling and somersaulting, I became disoriented, not knowing which way was up.
There were times when I went completely airborne due to the mountain’s sharp incline.
I didn’t know which feeling was worse, my stomach dropping during my free fall or the way every bit of gravel was shrapnel, scraping and tearing my flesh apart.
My body twisted around, my muscles spasming.
Each hit against the rocky slope had me crying out in pain.
I knew I had gashes all over me. The smell and coppery taste of my own blood overwhelmed my senses.
My vision obscured by a curtain of red seeping into my eyes.
I could no longer think clearly enough to blink it away.
I held on to my consciousness for as long as I could as I tumbled, but the amount of pain I was in, coupled with my rising fear, was sending my body into a catatonic state.
This is how I’m going to die was what I was thinking before my head collided with a blunt object. The sickening crack against my skull was the last sound I remembered before the world dissolved around me, and I was thrown into a great void of nothingness.