Camp Monsters - Shunka Warakin

Episode Date: September 30, 2020

In this episode we’re going out right to the very edge of the firelight, watching and listening.  We’ll go out where others swear they’ve seen something, heard something … something ancient, large, and threatening. Something from those dark old times when someone around the fire always had to stay awake, to keep watch.  It’s your turn.  So stay awake.  Keep your eyes open.  Stare into the night and listen for what you think you might have heard out there … in the darkness.Series sponsor:Yeti 

Our sponsor for this podcast is Yeti. And instead of sending us a script to read, they actually sent us what they described as a care package. We knew something was up when they asked for our address. And the next thing we knew, there's a Yeti cooler being delivered to our office. We open it up and smoke starts pouring out. But everything inside is cold. Turns out it's dry ice. And

everything inside isn't just cold, but frozen solid. And they sent this cooler all the way from Austin, packed with a few local items. Full brisket, ready to be cooked. Sausages, ribs, pulled pork, some cheeses from Texas hill country, even ice cream. There's enough food in here to last until Thanksgiving, although that's not likely to happen. So yeah, Yeti, you could have just sent us a script, but hey, thanks for the cooler and food. This is an REI Co-op Studios production. Walk away from the fire. Walk away from the fire into the night.

You may not believe all the stories that we uncover here on Camp Monsters Podcast, but if you ever doubt that these tales have their roots in the truth, try walking away from a bright, warm fire into the cold heart of the night. No matter how often you do it, no matter how moonlit the night may be, you'll always feel a little thrill of, call it apprehension, if you want. Call it anxiety.

Call it superstition, childishness. Dismiss it and shame. What you're feeling is fear. And it lives just beyond the firelight. Because for most of our ancestors, for most of our history, we were outnumbered by the things out there, beasts and strangers, things that would do us harm. In this episode we are going right out to the very edge of the firelight, watching and listening. We are going out where others swear they've seen something, heard something.

Something ancient and large, threatening. Something from those dark old times when someone around the fire always had to stay awake to keep watch. It's your turn. So stay awake. Keep your eyes open. Stare into the night and listen for what you think you might have heard out there in the darkness.

This is the Camp Monsters Podcast. The wild places of this country are haunted by mysterious creatures. Creatures you might only have heard whispers of. Every week we amplify those whispers, tell the old tales, relate the recent encounters, and share all the strange stories that you ought to know about the wilderness you love to visit. These are just stories, of course. They're based on things people claim to have seen and heard and felt, but witnesses can be mistaken. Listen to these stories and decide for yourself. Well, they couldn't possibly be true, could they? If civilization is a fire, then out here in Montana, we're already half in the shadows.

It's a funny place, Montanaana big and wild and proud full of old tales and legends that it mostly keeps to itself i guess those stories make the most sense when you hear them out here around the crackle and glow of a little fire, with that big Montana sky up above, and the darkness pressing in all around. Hmm? No, I didn't hear anything. Did you? Even if you did, I wouldn't go out there to investigate,

because it would be a waste of time, I mean. The animals who make those night sounds see so much better in the dark than we do. If you go looking, they'll be gone long before you see them. If you're lucky, they'll be gone. That reminds me of a local story they tell around here, though. It happened a few years ago. A campfire bigger than this one. Almost big enough to be called a bonfire, really.

Big enough to light up the little clearing where the fire was and make the trunks of the tall pines all around glow orange. It was mostly young people around that bonfire, standing and sitting, talking, laughing. It was that happy kind of fire, everybody paying a lot of attention to each other and not much at all to the night around. Except for Jean and Lee, who wandered out, away from the fire, always. Out past the last of the orange light. Wandered out into the night. Maybe they wanted to look at the stars. Whatever they were doing out there, they weren't

doing it long before they came running back up to the fire. Lee almost ran right into it. His eyes were so fixed on the night behind him. His friends grabbed him and stopped him, laughing, and asking what was the matter. The laughter and the questions seemed to break the spell that gripped Gene and Lee, and they both stood there looking sheepish until Gene murmured that they'd heard something. Well, that brought a big laugh from everyone around the fire, and some woo-hoo-hoos as well. Lee's friends started joking and poking and shaking him around, and with a grin, his friend Tony scooped up a flaming stick that was halfway in the fire and ran out the way Gene and Lee had come, shouting nonsense at the night. He went silent right at the edge of the firelight, though.

Went silent and started backing up. A dark figure, a silhouette, rose up out of the shadows in front of Tony. Rose up suddenly, like a four-legged creature rearing onto its hind legs it stood there for a moment right on the edge of the light where the shadows jump around so much you can't ever be sure what you're seeing and then it started to shuffle slowly forward toward the fire

some of the people around the fire managed to control their fear of this sudden apparition. Others were simply frozen by it. A few turned and took off running, but they didn't make it far. Four steps, five, and then they stopped. The night beyond the firelight was so dark and so close, and what was that moving out there? What was that sound? Meanwhile, the shadow, the figure, came closer to the fire, and it became clear that it was a man, an older man, moving slowly, not elderly, but much older than anyone else around the fire that night. Everyone backed away from him. More people turned to leave, but, like

the others, stopped at the edge of the night, unwilling to leave the firelight circle. And the old man came slowly up, sat on a piece of log right beside the fire, staring into it and taking no notice of anyone. He had that whole side of the fire to himself. He was wearing a big, shapeless black hat with a brim all around, beat up and pulled way down to where his eyes must be. You couldn't see his eyes except when the fire flashed on something way back in the black sockets of his face. His whole person seemed to soak up the firelight. Even right beside the fire, most of him was in shadow.

He had a long, thick, dirty leather coat on that looked shiny and stiff, with the grease of long wear and even longer exposure. It looked like something you might dig up, something you didn't like to touch. Nobody touched him, that was for sure. Nobody spoke, and for a long time he didn't either. Then, without taking his eyes from the flames and barely moving his lips, he asked, What did you hear? His voice was loud but heavy with age, even older than he looked. Nobody answered him. Some looked confused and he didn't ask again.

The silence just stretched on more and more painfully until the old man slowly raised his gaze to Jean, standing across the fire from him. And Jean understood what he was asking and blurted out, we heard something growling out there. She was going to stop at that. But as the fire of the old man's eyes continued to light on her, she spoke again. A loud growling, she said. Really close. Coming closer.

And a sound like big paws pounding toward us and like... like... The old man's eyes moved to Lee, who finished the thought. A sound like teeth snapping and slipping on bone. The old man seemed satisfied by this description, turned his gaze back to the flames. Lee stopped talking and the silence returned, but not for long. You should keep the fire big tonight, and stay close to it, the old man said to no one

in particular. Shonka Warrickin never comes into the firelight. There were a few glances of recognition from the young faces around the fire, but most of them stayed blank. The old man didn't see either reaction, he just kept staring into the flames. Then he started to speak again. We were hunting. Two valleys over from here, Hank and me and a man called Curly. There was a little snow on the ground here and there, not much. Our horses were tied up down the hill below us, beyond the firelight. And in the middle of the night, they started acting strange.

We could hear them snorting and stamping at first, then rearing and crying out. Something was bothering them. But they wouldn't have done all that just for coyote or even wolves. We were afraid it was a bear and while Curly and I were still pulling on our boots and coats, Hank went ahead down the hill to scare it away. We could hear him making noise, calling out, hey bear, get out of here bear as he went then we heard something we heard growling and

we heard Hank being attacked and the horses going crazy Curly and I ran down there armed, shouting the horses ripped themselves loose and took off just as we got to them Hank was a little further on lying there in the snow

I thought he was dead but when my boots crunched up to him he sat up started moaning clutching his arm Curly had a light and he was looking back and forth at the ground beyond where Hank was lying, following signs back into the trees. I helped Hank to stand up, and Curly told me to take him back to camp.

Then he went off, and we didn't see him anymore. I got Hank back to camp and did what I could to stop the bleeding from his shredded arm. He was shaking, breathing heavy, and it was a cold night, but sweat stood out on his forehead, slid down his face, andpped off his chin his eyes were wide scared like he could still see something terrible right in front of him I built the fire up and got a good flame going that seemed to snap Hank out of it a bit. He looked at his arm, then all around the fire, then he asked where Curly was.

I told him Curly was out hunting the wolf that had attacked him. I'd seen a track in the snow where we'd found him, so I knew it'd been a wolf that had done it. Big wolf. Hank started shaking his head back and forth. He said it was no wolf. Then he surprised me by trying to stand up, but he lost his balance. It was all I could do to keep him from falling in the fire. I sat him back down, held on to him he started to cry he started to cry and kept saying it was no wolf and if he had to go and help curly I didn't say anything I figured the pain got to his head well then he went quiet all of a sudden sat up straight.

I held onto him and watched him, trying to see what he was going to do next. Then I thought he made a sound. But when he turned and looked at me, and I saw the fear come back into his eyes, I realized the sound wasn't coming from him. When you meet a big dog that's not sure of you, without moving it starts to make that first, faint, deep growl on the very center of itself. So quiet you'd have to go closer to be sure you hear it. But you don have to go closer to be sure you hear it. But you don't dare go closer.

We heard a sound like that, low, coming from out there in the darkness between the trees. It was so low I wasn't even sure I heard it. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. It seemed to come from all around. I tried to look out there, but the darkness was so thick, the fire made the shadows of the trees jump around. There could be anything or nothing out there. I dumped all the sticks and branches we'd gathered onto the fire at once,

and it blazed up high. But the shadows only backed off a little. And still, here and there, I thought I saw... With shocking speed, the old man whipped his head and body halfway around, facing the night beyond the fire and startling all his young listeners, so they jumped. Someone let out a cry of, Oh! Then all of them went silent, listening. And no one could be sure, but out there, somewhere, close.

Shh! Wasn't that a faint, deep growl? The fire flared a little, showed the old man's lips peeled back from his teeth, whether in a grimace or a fearful smile no one could say. Stay close to the fire, the old man man whispered almost too quiet to hear then he took two split logs from the ground beside him dropped them onto the coals watching in silence as the smoke that licked them turned into flame and the night brightened but only a little. After a while, he spoke again, quietly,

half listening to the night that pressed in around them. Just like that night, I thought I saw something out there, some animal circling our fire, but I couldn't be sure. That night, I was staring so hard that I'd forgot about Hank. When he spoke, I jumped.

Shunk a warrikin, Hank said, staring out into the night. And then he told me what he'd seen when he'd gone to help the horses. Like a wolf, but larger and thicker. At least four feet at the shoulder, mottled black and gray like it was made to the shadows the night forest cast.

He hadn't seen it until just before it hit him. He got his arm up in time to block his throat, and the thing was massive. It tossed him around so easy that at first he thought it was a bear. But then its big yellow eyes caught the moon. He saw the shape of its huge head with its pointed ears, and then he knew he was fighting with a myth. Shunka Warrick. Then he knew he was fighting with a myth. Shunkawarrikan. His great-grandmother had told him about Shunkawarrikan, which means carries away dogs in the Ioway native language.

She told him Shunkawarrikan lived in the darkness outside the fire, waiting for unwary dogs or men or little children that wandered away from the firelight. He'd always thought it was just a story to keep kids from wandering off into the night, but thank God we'd come to scare it off. The fire had burned down low again as he talked, In that first stab of fear, I'd dumped everything we had onto it, and now there was nothing left to burn. The shadows started to gather in closer.

We hadn't planned to have a fire all night. To keep it going, I needed to Go out into the trees Just little ways Gather more branches and things I needed to Go out into the dark Not far but I tell you I didn't want to go

So we just sat there At the fire Staring at it like we were hungry for it. Moving closer as the flames died down, the night got colder, and the little circle of firelight dimmed. I was looking at Hank's face, inches from mine as we hovered over the last few precious flames. Then we heard the growl again. Close this time, loud. We both wheeled around to face the night, expecting something to leap out of it at any moment. The growling grew louder, but then

it moved away. I could hear sliding footsteps in the snow like the creature was running away from us. I looked back at Hank and saw him smile for the first time all night.

And I watched his smile melt into horror as Curly's first time all night. And I watched his smile melt into horror as Curly's first screams reached us. Hank jumped up and the brave man ruined arm and all he took off running into the woods in the direction of the cries yelling for all he was worth. So then I was alone

by the fire. And Jean interrupted the old man now, leaning toward him as far as she could over the big fire, her sharp features honed like a razor by the fire's light. And you let him go? Jean's voice

was hot with anger and contempt. You let him go alone to face that thing and save your friend while you stayed and warmed your feet by the fire? The old man gazed at Gene, and some trick of the light killed the reflection of his eyes so that his sockets looked deep and dark and empty, like the black orbits of a skull. Finally, he spoke.

No, he said. I couldn't do that. I found my gun and followed him. Oh. Oh, said Jean, and she looked ashamed of her outburst. So, what happened? Again there was silence as Jean stared into the dark black sockets where the old man's eyes must be,

and struggled against the mixed shame and revulsion that made her want to look away. Finally, the old man spoke. So quiet it could have been the fire talking. You want to know what happened to me? Out there? Yes, Jean said and speaking the word without breaking her gaze at the old man took every ounce of will she had the old man's lips peeled back again

into that grimace or that smile into that face that looked like the face of a dried and frozen corpse then follow me. And with that he rose and walked swiftly away from the fire. Too swiftly for a man his age. Too swiftly for any person, it seemed. In an instant he had disappeared completely into the dark night. But Jean didn't follow him.

No one did. The only thing that followed the old man into the night was silence. Silence broken at last by a long, low, rattling growl.

No one left the fire that night. No one slept by it either. They all stayed awake and managed to keep it burning brightly by feeding it the logs they'd been sitting on, while some of them kept their eyes and ears on the dark and threatening woods, and others talked quietly about the old man and his story. They found it hard to agree on what the old man had looked like, how old he might have been, just what he was wearing other than that stiff old coat.

But they all agreed on who he must have been, for they'd all heard from their parents or grandparents the story of the three hunters who'd disappeared late one season many years ago, disappeared from a fully stocked camp without trace or explanation. And in the morning, once the sun was up and the full light of day had come, they found another thing they could agree on. There was a stretch of soft, wind-blown dirt out in the direction the old man had come and gone by, out beyond where the firelight had reached,

and it had clear prints on it. Two sets matched Lee and Gene Gene walking out and running back. But the only other prints were those of an enormous dog or wolf or something. Pacing and circling, back and forth, over and over again. And there were no other tracks to be seen at all. They didn't stick around to investigate further. They left as a group through the trees, heading back toward the distant road where the cars were parked.

As they went, a heavy, late-season thunderstorm hit, and the rain fell in sheets, quenching the last of the coals, scattering the ashes, and turning all the tracks in that soft dirt into a river of blank mud. Yeah, I heard it that time. But you know, there are lots of harmless little critters that can growl like that. A raccoon can make itself sound like a cougar about to pounce if it wants to. I'm sure we're okay. Let's turn in. Oh, and if you need a bathroom during the night, this campground has a nice one.

It's right up there, just through those dark trees. Oh, you don't have to go? I mean, either. Camp Monsters is part of the RAI Podcast Network. And if you've been warmed by our campfire, please subscribe if you haven't already. And take a moment to rate, review, and share. You spreading the word about this podcast keeps us recording. So thank you. Next week we'll break the rules a little bit. Sneak off for a swim in that pond that's supposed to be off limits. Ah,

those stories they tell are just to keep the little kids from getting in trouble out here. Come on in. The water is... fine. Camp Monsters is recorded around a cozy digital campfire in the overcast room of Cloud Studios in Seattle, Washington. The campfire was lit and is guarded by our very own legendary creature, our producer, Chelsea Davis. The sparks of audio magic are stirred up by our engineer, Nick Patry. And any growls that you hear out beyond the firelight probably come from our executive producers, Paolo Motilla and Joe Crosby. These stories are written and told by yours truly, Weston Davis.

Thanks for stopping by. See you next week. This season of Camp Monsters is brought to you by Yeti. Did you know that in addition to their line of drinkware, Yeti also makes one heck of a dog bed and some of the toughest dog bowls in existence? I'll take this gear with you next time you go camping in Montana. You may attract a new pet.