Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 4 True Scary DEEP WOODS Horror Stories

Episode Date: December 27, 2024

These are 4 True Scary DEEP WOODS Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:17:48 Story 2 00:36:39 Story 3 00:53:58 Story 4 Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Thumbnail art: ►Just Creepy Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

The air was crisp, sharp enough to bite at my lungs as I adjusted the straps of my pack. After the long day guiding hikers, I should have headed back to the ranger station, but the solitude of this lesser used trail called to me. I had always liked the way this path wound deeper into the forest, untouched and quiet. The light was fading quickly, but I knew the terrain well enough to navigate it without worry. My boots crunched against the dirt as the canopy above deepened into shadows. It wasn't unusual for fallen branches or rocks to litter the trail, so when I saw something ahead, I didn't think much of it at first. It was just another shape against the undergrowth, dark, indistinct.

I slowed, expecting it to come into focus as I moved closer. It didn't. I stopped, scanning the ground. It wasn't a branch. The shape had too much weight to it, too much stillness. A tangle of fabric stood out against the dirt. I crouched low, my heart drumming as I made out the contours of a body. Someone was lying there, unmoving. Dropping my pack, I moved fast, skidding to my knees beside him. His clothes were hiking gear, though worn and smeared with grime. His face was pale, and his breath came so faintly I had to lean in to catch it.

When I pressed my fingers to his wrist, the pulse was slow, irregular. His skin was unnaturally cold, clammy like stone left out in the rain. Hey, I called, trying to rouse him. My voice sounded out of place, too loud against the muted hum of the woods. There was no response. His head lulled to the side, limp. A thin, dark smear stained the dirt beneath him, its edges dry and flaking. Blood?

I couldn't tell how fresh it was, but the sight of it made my stomach tighten. I scrambled for the radio strapped to my belt. Static greeted me when I keyed the mic. Base, this is Sarah, do you copy? The signal was dead. My fingers tightened around the receiver, knowing full well this part of the trail was a dead zone. I tried again anyway,

the static answering like an insult, useless. The nearest help was miles away, over terrain that would take hours to cross, even under normal conditions. I glanced down at the man. His breathing was shallow, his body barely responding. Leaving him alone wasn't an option. Okay, I muttered to myself, grabbing my pack again.

With what little light remained, I pulled out a length of rope and rigged together a makeshift sling. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. His arms hung awkwardly as I tied them across his chest, his head slumping forward like a doll's. Hoisting him onto my back was harder than I expected. His weight bore down on my shoulders. dragging me toward the ground. I adjusted, planting my feet wide and bracing myself against the trail's uneven surface. My legs strained as I took the first step, then another. Every inch felt like a victory as I started the long trek toward the station. The trail stretched ahead like a

jagged wound, each turn shrouded in growing darkness. My headlamp flicked on, its beam cutting through the shadows, but only just. The man's body pressed against me, like dead weight, his breathing faint against my ear. I tried not to focus on the sensation of his cold skin or the dampness that clung to his clothes. The first half mile was brutal. My muscles screamed with every step, the terrain uneven and unforgiving. Rocks shifted underfoot and roots seemed to grab at my boots. The quiet pressed in close now, broken only by the rasp of my own breath and the rhythmic crunch of my steps. And yet, something else seemed to be. to linger in the silence. It wasn't loud, more like a presence hanging at the edges of my awareness.

A soft rustle here, a broken branch there. The wind, I told myself. Just the wind threading its way through the trees. But the thought didn't stop me from glancing over my shoulder, my headlamp sweeping the trail behind me. There was nothing there. Stay with me, I said aloud, more to fill the void than for his sake. My voice sounded foreign. too steady to match the pulse hammering in my neck. We're getting out of here. Just hang on. As the light fully disappeared, the woods came alive in ways I didn't expect. Sounds I usually found comforting. Owls calling, insects buzzing, felt oddly distant.

My focus narrowed to the patch of illuminated ground directly in front of me. The trail dipped sharply, the slope forcing me to adjust his weight. His head lulled again, and for a moment I thought. thought I heard him murmur something. I stopped in my tracks, straining to listen. Then just as quickly, the ambient noises returned. His lips hadn't moved, I realized. My exhaustion was playing tricks on me. I pushed forward, willing my legs to keep moving. The trail twisted ahead, leading into thicker brush. Shadows clawed at the edges of my light, but I didn't let myself slow. Step by step, I edged closer to where help might be waiting. The man on my back gave another weak groan,

his body twitching slightly. It was a small sound, but it was enough to keep me moving. I didn't dare stop again. The man shifted on my back, just a slight twitch, but it was enough to throw off my balance for a step. I stumbled forward, catching myself on a jutting branch, my breath coming in sharp gasps. The trail ahead looked endless, a tangle of roots and rocks barely visible in the narrow beam of my headlamp. Each step was a battle. My legs trembled. My shoulders screamed under the weight,

and my grip on him slipped every few minutes, forcing me to stop and readjust. He groaned again, a low, rasping noise that didn't sound entirely human. You're going to be fine, I said, more to keep myself focused than for him. His head sagged forward, and I felt his breath against my neck,

faint and uneven. I kept moving. The forest around me had changed. The usual hum of crickets and rustling underbrush was patchy, replaced by stretches of silence that seemed to stretch forever. Every so often I heard something, faint, distant, like a voice carried on the wind. A word here, a murmur there. I told myself it was nothing, just the wind snaking through the trees. The cold was worse now, sinking deep into my bones despite the sweat soaking through my clothes. The damp air clung to me, heavy and sour, and the mist rolling along the ground thickened with every step.

It wasn't normal mist, too dense, too deliberate, coiling around my ankles like it had purpose. The headlamps' beams seemed to bounce off it, scattering light uselessly ahead of me. A crack sounded to my right, sharp, deliberate. I stopped, adjusting my grip on the man as I turned my head. The beam swung wildly, catching nothing but trees and shadows. I stayed frozen for a moment, listening.

Nothing followed. You're imagining things, I whispered to myself, but my legs felt heavy as I forced them to move again. Each step felt like waiting through something unseen, something that resisted every movement. The man stirred against my back, his body jerking slightly, his head lulled to the side, and I caught a glimpse of his face in the headlamps glow.

his eyes were half open the whites bloodshot and glassy and his lips moved what i asked stopping again my voice barely steady he mumbled something low guttural but i couldn't make out the words i leaned closer hoping to catch it a sound behind me stopped me cold it wasn't the rustle of leaves or the snap of a twig it was deliberate measured the unmistakable crunch of footsteps i froze my grip tightening on the man The sound came again, closer now. I turned slowly, swinging the headlamp behind me. The light caught nothing but shifting mist in the edges of trees. My throat was dry as I forced myself to speak. Who's there? The words hung in the air, unanswered. The footsteps stopped. I didn't wait. I adjusted the man's weight and started moving faster, ignoring the burning in my legs. My breathing was loud, ragged, and the man on my my back felt heavier with every step. His body twitched again more violently this time. His arms

crossed awkwardly against his chest, jerked free of the sling-eyed tied, one hand brushing against my shoulder. Stay still, I snapped, though I knew he couldn't hear me. The mist seemed to close in tighter, curling around my knees, slowing my pace. The whispers returned, louder now, but still impossible to pinpoint. It wasn't just one voice. It was a dozen, overlapping, fragmented. I stopped again, unable to ignore the sound. Who's there? I shouted into the dark. My voice swallowed almost instantly by the forest.

Silence answered, followed by another snap of a branch, this time directly ahead of me. The headlamp flickered. I slapped it with my free hand, swearing under my breath, and the light steadied. But in the moment of darkness, I thought I saw movement. just a flicker at the edge of my vision. When the light returned, there was nothing there. The man shifted again, his head snapping upright. I nearly dropped him, startled by the sudden movement.

His body felt unnaturally rigid, and his breath was louder now, almost wheezing. I stopped, adjusting my grip and glanced down at his face. His eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead, unblinking. His mouth moved, forming words that didn't come out. Then, without warning, a noise escaped him, a low grating sound that sent a shiver through me. It wasn't a groan or a gasp. It sounded like something trying to speak but failing.

The sound too wet, too deep. Hold on, I muttered, forcing myself forward again. I didn't look back. I didn't let myself. The trail leveled out ahead, and I nearly cried out in relief. The ranger station couldn't be far now. I forced my legs to move faster, my steps uneven as the whispers grew louder, pressing against my ears.

They were clearer now, forming words I couldn't quite understand. The sound of footsteps returned, closer than before, matching my pace. The headlamp flickered again, and this time it died completely. I froze, swallowed by the dark. My hand fumbled for the spare light in my pack, but before I could reach it, a noise cut through the silence. A voice, low and unmistakable, whispered my name from somewhere close, too close. The man jerked against my back, his head snapping to the side. His voice joined the others, murmuring something unintelligible. I staggered forward, groping blindly for the trail.

The whispers were louder now, overlapping and filling the air, drowning out my own breathing. Then finally, a faint glow broke through the mist ahead. The ranger station's floodlights. I surged forward, dragging the man's weight with me. The whispers didn't fade. They followed, growing louder as I stumbled into the clearing. Help! I shouted, my voice raw. Two rangers ran out, their expressions twisting from confusion to alarm as they saw me. I collapsed to my knees as they pulled the man from my back, their voices overlapping with questions I couldn't answer. Behind me, the forest seemed to sigh, the whispers finally fading into silence. I sat in the Ranger Station kitchen, wrapped in a blanket, and clutching a mug of

coffee that had long gone cold. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, though weather from exhaustion or something deeper I couldn't say. The fluorescent lights above felt sterile, too bright after hours of navigating the oppressive dark. The man was in another room, surrounded by the Rangers who were doing what they could until the ambulance arrived. I could still hear their hurried voices, though I couldn't make out the words. They'd stripped off his shredded jacket, exposing his back, and the glimpse I'd caught before they shooed me out hadn't left my mind. Those marks, deep, parallel scratches like claws, ran from his shoulders to his lower back. The edges were red and raw, and though I knew better, they didn't look like any animal attack I'd

ever seen. One of the Rangers, Ellis, sat across from me now, his face a mixture of curiosity. and concern. You did good out there, he said, his voice low. Getting him this far on your own, most wouldn't have made it. I nodded but didn't answer. Words felt too heavy, and the room around me felt too small. My mind replayed the sounds I'd heard in the woods, the whispers, the footsteps, and most vividly, the way the man had whispered my name in the darkness. Ellis shifted in his seat, leaning forward. You said you found him off the trail. Yeah, I said finally, my voice rough. Face down, barely breathing.

I thought he'd fallen or gotten lost, but those... I gestured toward the other room, unable to finish the sentence. He followed my gaze, his expression darkening. We've had reports of strange things out there, he said slowly, like he wasn't sure he should continue. People hearing voices, feeling watched. Most of the time we chalk it up to isolation or exhaustion. But this, he trailed off, shaking his head.

This is different. What kind of strange things, I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. He hesitated before answering. Hikers disappearing. Others found wandering out of the woods not knowing how they got there. We don't talk about it much, don't want to scare people off. But this guy, he matches some of the stories. Before I could ask more, the door to the other room swung open,

and the second ranger Calloway stepped in. His face was pale, his hands gripping the doorframe like he needed the support. The ambulance is ten minutes out, he said, avoiding my gaze. But he's awake. Ella straightened in his chair. Awake? Yeah, if you can call it that, Calloway muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He finally looked at me, and there was something in his eyes that set me on edge.

He's asking for you. For a moment, I didn't move. My stomach turned, my legs felt like lead, but I forced myself to stand. The blanket fell from my shoulders as I followed Calloway down the short hallway to the room where they'd placed the man. The air inside was colder, despite the heater running. The man lay on the stretcher, his eyes open but unfocused, staring at the ceiling. His breathing was steady now, but his lips moved, whispering something too faint to hear. Hey, I said softly, stepping closer. It's Sarah. I found you on the trail. You're safe now.

His eyes flick toward me, locking onto mine in a way that felt wrong, like he was looking past me rather than at me. His lips moved again, forming my name. The sound was barely audible, but it sent a shiver through me all the same. Then he spoke, louder this time, his voice raspy but insistent. You brought it with you. What? I asked, my heart pounding. What do you mean? His hand twitched, lifting weakly toward the window behind me. It followed you, he croaked. Don't let it in. I turned sharply, my eyes darting to the window. Outside, the floodlights illuminated the clearing in the edge of the forest beyond. The mist had thickened, curling like smoke around the trees. For a moment I thought I saw movement, just a flicker of shadow too tall, too thin to be human.

But when I blinked, it was gone. I looked back at the man, but his eyes had closed again, his body slack. The whispers in my mind, the ones I'd dismissed as exhaustion or fear, seemed louder now, echoing his warning. Ellis stepped into the room, his voice cutting through the silence. The ambulance is here. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. You should get some rest. I nodded but didn't move.

My gaze lingered on the window, the mist creeping closer to the glass. Whatever had happened in those woods wasn't finished. The forest had let me leave, but something had come with me. Always be careful when going into the woods. You might not make it out alive. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one. one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater stage on April 30th, the powerful vocals

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Springs calling. Ross, work your magic. I don't scare easily, or at least that's what I tell myself. Years spent crouched in the wild waiting for the perfect shot, whether it's a bear fishing in a stream or a storm rolling over a mountain, have taught me patience, observation, and an unshakable sense of calm. But from the moment we pulled into Black Hollow National Forest, something felt off.

I didn't say anything to Rachel at first. She would have just laughed and accused me of being paranoid. The Ranger Station was barely more than a shack, its paint peeling and windows clouded with grime. Inside, a man with leathery skin and cold gray eyes barely glanced up as we signed the ledger. Whispering falls trail, Rachel chirped, her voice chipper as ever. The Ranger didn't smile. He just squinted at us.

his pen hovering mid-air. You sure about that? Haven't had many folks out there this season. Stick to the main trails, and don't be out past dark. Rachel gave him her best, We're Not Tourists' grin, and we headed back to the car. I lingered for a second, though, watching the ranger as he rubbed the back of his neck,

muttering something under his breath. The guy was probably just sick of answering the same dumb questions every weekend, but still, something about the way he looked at us, stuck with me. The drive to the trailhead wasn't long, but as the road narrowed, the trees seemed to close in on us. Rachel leaned out the window, snapping photos of the autumn leaves with her phone. You're too serious, Allie, she teased, her tone light but cutting. This is going to be amazing. Just relax. I nodded and forced a smile, even as the forest seemed to grow darker, the towering trees blocking out more and more of the late afternoon sun. By the time we parked,

I could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on me. Scout was the first one out, his black fur practically glowing against the bed of fallen leaves. He darted toward the trail, sniffing the ground, tail wagging. At least he was excited. I adjusted my pack and camera bag, trying to focus on the little things, buckling the straps just right,

double-checking my lens cap. Rachel was already halfway up the trail when I called after her. The first hour wasn't bad, The trail was steep, but manageable, winding through dense oaks and maples. The air was cool and sharp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth. Rachel was chattering about something, work maybe, or her plans for a travel blog. But I only half listened. My eyes kept darting to the shadows between the trees.

Scout, usually the happiest dog in the world, had started sticking closer to me, his ears pinned back and his nose twitching. You see that? I asked suddenly, stopping in my tracks. Rachel turned, raising an eyebrow. See what? I pointed toward a break in the trees where I thought I'd caught a glimpse of movement, a flash of gray maybe, or a shadow shifting unnaturally.

Over there, I think someone's out here. Rachel squinted, then rolled her eyes. Ali, come on, it's probably a deer, or your imagination. She turned and kept walking. her voice trailing off. Seriously, you need to chill. You've been on edge since we got here. She wasn't wrong, but that didn't make me feel any better.

Scout growled softly, the sound low and almost imperceptible. I gave him a quick pat on the head and started walking again, trying to shake the feeling that we weren't as alone as we thought. We reached the creek just before dusk and set up camp. Rachel insisted on pitching the tent close to the water despite my protest that it might get too damp overnight. The sound of the stream will help you sleep, she said with a grin, brushing off my concerns like she always did.

While she fiddled with the tent poles, I wandered a few yards upstream with Scout, hoping to catch some good light for photos. That's when I saw them, the carvings. They were crude and weathered, etched deep into the bark of an old oak, symbols, shapes I didn't recognize, like spirals and jagged lines intersecting at, at strange angles. I raised my camera to snap a shot, but scout barked, startling me.

What is it, boy? I whispered, glancing around. The woods were still, too still. Ali, you coming? Rachel's voice cut through the silence, and I turned back toward camp. Yeah, I called, forcing a laugh. Just a tree. I didn't mention the carvings when I got back. Rachel was already unpacking marshmallows talking about how this trip was going to inspire her next big article. I nodded along, trying to focus on the firelight dancing in her eyes, and not the creeping feeling in my gut. By the time we crawled into the tent, the stream's babble felt less like a lullaby, and more like a whispering voice I couldn't quite understand. Scout curled up close to me, his warmth a small comfort. Just as I was drifting off, I heard it, a branch snapping.

footsteps. Did you hear that? I whispered, nudging Rachel. She groaned. It's just the wind, Ali. Go to sleep. But it wasn't the wind. I knew it wasn't.

Scout growled again, low and guttural. His body tense against mine. I lay awake for hours, staring at the tense nylon ceiling, listening to the forest breathe. I didn't sleep. Morning should have brought relief, but it didn't. The first thing I noticed when I was. I unzipped the tent was Scout. He was pacing in circles near the edge of the campsite, his nose low to the ground, letting out soft, anxious winds. That wasn't like him. Scout was usually

up and wagging his tail the moment we stirred. Today, though, his ears were pinned back, and his body was tense, like he was bracing for something I couldn't see. Rachel, of course, didn't notice a thing. She was rummaging through her pack, humming some song I didn't recognize. coffee she asked holding up the small travel press sure i muttered but my eyes were on the dirt something was off the ground looked wrong i crouched running my hand over the disturbed earth there were faint impressions in the dirt like some one or something had been here branches nearby were snapped at odd angles and a thin line of trampled grass led toward the creek my stomach churned Hey, Rach, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Did you hear anything last night, like, footsteps? She laughed too loudly.

Ali, you're obsessed with footsteps. We're in the woods. Animals exist. She gestured around us, her hand sweeping the trees like she was showing off a sales pitch. This is their home. I didn't respond. Instead, I grabbed my camera and snapped a few shots of the impressions just in case. Rachel rolled her eyes, muttering something about paranoia, but I ignored her.

Scout was still uneasy, and I trusted him more than either of us. We packed up and set out for whispering falls. The hike was supposed to be easy, a gentle climb with clear views of the valley, but the trail felt different today. The vibrant colors of the forest were muted somehow. The yellows and reds dulled by a strange gray haze. The air was heavy, humid, and thick, as if the forest was whole. holding its breath. Scouts stayed close to me, his tail low and his ears twitching at every sound.

Even Rachel seemed quieter than usual, though she masked it with forced enthusiasm. "'Isn't this gorgeous?' she said, pointing at the trees, her voice a little too bright. "'This is exactly what I needed.' I nodded but didn't answer. My focus was on the shadows, those dark spaces between the trees where light didn't seem to reach. Twice I thought I saw movement. a branch swaying where no wind was blowing, a flash of gray disappearing behind a trunk. At one point Rachel stopped to take a photo near a rocky outcrop. I stayed back with Scout, scanning the woods. That's when I heard it. Laughter. Faint. Almost like a child's giggle, carried on the wind.

It was distant but unmistakable, and it made my skin crawl. Did you hear that? I asked, my voice sharp. Rachel looked up from her phone, squinting. Hear what? Laughter, I said, pointing toward the trees. From over there. Rachel stared for a moment, then shook her head. Allie, you've got to relax.

It's probably an echo, or the water. No, I snapped. It wasn't the water. She sighed, slinging her pack over her shoulder. Come on, let's keep moving. You're overthinking everything. I wanted to argue, but scout barked, a short, sharp sound that sent a jolt through me. He was staring at the same spot I'd pointed to, his body rigid.

Rachel was already ahead on the trail, so I had no choice but to follow. My heart raced with every step, the weight of the camera strap digging into my shoulder. I kept glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see someone, or something behind us. By the time we reached whispering falls, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the clearing. The water tumbled over the rocks, its roar filling the air. For a moment, the sound drowned out my anxiety, and I let myself breathe. Rachel was snapping pictures completely in her element, and even Scout seemed calmer.

But then I noticed the carvings. They were etched into a large rock near the base of the falls, symbols similar to the ones I'd seen the day before, but larger and more intricate. spirals jagged lines and crude stick figures all intersecting in chaotic patterns my stomach turned as i traced them with my fingers the edges sharp against my skin rachel i called my voice trembling she looked up annoyed what now look at this she sighed trudging over her expression shifted when she saw the carvings huh she said crouching next to me that's weird what do you think it means I don't know, I admitted. But it's not random. Someone put these here.

Rachel laughed nervously. Maybe it's like an old Native American thing, or just some bored teenagers. I shook my head. It doesn't feel right. Scout growled again, low and guttural, his hackles raised. He was staring into the woods, his body trembling. Okay, now you're freaking me out, Rachel muttered, glancing around. Let's head back to camp.

We retraced our steps in silence, the cheerful banter from earlier replaced by a heavy, oppressive tension. The forest seemed darker now, the shadows deeper, the air colder. I kept hearing faint sounds, twigs snapping, leaves rustling, but every time I turned there was nothing there. By the time we reached the campsite it was nearly dark. Rachel tried to make light of it, cracking jokes as she started a fire, but I could see the the unease in her eyes. Even Scout was on edge, his ears constantly swiveling, his body coiled like a spring. That night, as we lay in the tent, the sounds started again, footsteps,

circling the campsite. Scout growled, his body pressed against mine, but Rachel refused to acknowledge it. It's just an animal, she whispered, her voice tight, go to sleep. But I couldn't. The footsteps stopped, and the silence that followed was worse than the noise. Something, Something was out there, something that didn't belong, and it was waiting. The first scream jolted me awake. I wasn't sure if it came from outside or from Rachel's throat, but it didn't matter. My heart was already pounding, and the weight of dread crushed any lingering fog of sleep. Scout was barking furiously, his body pressed against the tent wall, his growls sharp and guttural. "'Rachel!' I hissed, shaking her. She bolted upright, her eyes wide with fear. She bolted,

her breathing shallow. What the hell was that? She whispered, her voice trembling. Another scream pierced the night, this one closer. It wasn't human, too high-pitched, too distorted, like the sound of metal scraping against metal but alive. Scout was frantic now, pawing at the tent's zipper. I grabbed him by the collar, trying to calm him,

but his growls only grew louder. Someone's out there, I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the blood rushing in my ears. Rachel grabbed her flashlight and flicked it on. The narrow beam sliced through the tent's fabric, illuminating vague shapes outside, branches, shadows, and something moving, something big. Stay quiet, I mouthed, but it was too late.

The rustling outside turned into heavy, deliberate footsteps. They circled the tent, slow and measured, each crunch of leaves sending another spike of panic through me. Rachel clamped a hand over her mouth, her flashlight shaking. My fingers fumbled for the survival knife I kept in my pack. The blade felt too small, too useless against whatever was out there. Then the tent walls shuddered. Something, or someone, dragged what sounded like claws across the nylon.

Scout lunged, barking wildly, and the tent collapsed inward as if struck by a heavy weight. We have to run. Rachel screamed, her voice breaking the silence like glass. Before I could stop her, she unzipped the tent and scrambled out, the flashlight swinging wildly in her hand. I grabbed Scouts' collar and followed, my legs shaking as I stumbled into the cold night. The forest was alive now, not with the usual sounds of the wild, but with something darker. Twigs snapping, branches cracking, and that awful metallic screeching filled the air.

The flashlight beam cut through the shadows, revealing nothing. and everything all at once. Over there, Rachel shouted, pointing toward the creek. Her voice was raw, panicked. I didn't have time to argue. I grabbed Scout and ran after her, my boots slipping on the damp ground. The sound of pursuit was deafening. Whatever was behind us wasn't trying to be quiet.

I didn't dare look back, but I could hear the heavy crashing footsteps and the guttural wet growls that seemed to come from everywhere at once. We reached the creek. the rushing water glowing faintly in the moonlight. Rachel was already scrambling up the rocky embankment on the other side, her flashlight swinging wildly. I followed, Scout pulling me forward as if he understood the stakes. That's when I saw it. In the shadows across the creek, just at the edge of the trees, a figure loomed. It was tall, too tall to be human, and its shape was wrong, like a person stretched and warped beyond recognition.

The moonlight caught its face, and I wished it hadn't. Hollow eyes, a mouth twisted into an unnatural grin, and skin that looked too smooth, too pale. It stepped closer, and I froze. Ali, move! Rachel's voice snapped me out of my trance, and I scrambled up the embankment, my chest burning. The thing across the creek didn't follow. It just stood there, watching.

its head tilting unnaturally as if studying us. We didn't stop running. The forest closed in around us. The trees twisting and clawing at our clothes. The flashlight flickered, then went out, leaving us in near total darkness. My legs burned. My lungs screamed, but I didn't dare slow down. Behind us, the sounds of pursuit grew louder.

It's right behind us, Rachel sobbed, her voice breaking. Keep going, I shouted, grabbing her arm to steady her as she stumbled. Scout was ahead, his barking relentless, leading us through the maze of trees. Finally, we broke through the tree line and onto the dirt road where our car was parked. The sight of it was a shock, almost surreal, like it didn't belong in the nightmare we'd just escaped. Keys, I screamed. Rachel fumbled with her pack, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped them. The sound of heavy footsteps was closer now, pounding the dirt like a drumbeat. I spun around, gripping the knife,

ready to make a final stand. But there was nothing. The forest was still again, its oppressive silence returning as if nothing had happened. My heart pounded in my ears as I backed toward the car. Rachel yanked the door open, and we both tumbled inside with Scout right behind us. She jammed the key into the ignition, her hands trembling. The engine roared to life, and the headlights cut through the darkness. For a split second I saw it again, standing at the edge of the trees, its hollow eyes glowing faintly in the light. It didn't move, but its head tilted, that awful grin stretching wider. Go! I shouted, and Rachel slammed her foot on the gas. The car lurched forward, tires kicking up dirt as we sped down the road. I didn't look back. I didn't want to see it

again. We didn't stop until we were miles away. The sun beginning. to rise in the distance. The first rays of light felt unreal, like a cruel joke after the night we'd endured. Rachel pulled over on the side of the highway, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Scout whimpered in the back seat, curling into a ball. We're never going back there, Rachel finally said, her voice hollow. I nodded, staring out at the empty road ahead. Never again. We drove in silence after that, leaving black hollow behind. But even now I can feel it.

Those hollow eyes watching, that twisted grin waiting in the shadows. And I know, deep down, that some places are meant to stay hidden. This spring, Uber Eats has you covered. Whether you're celebrating mom, dad, or your favorite grad. Not all of us are great planners, and with the Uber Eats gift tub, you don't have to be. Send flowers, perfume, champagne, or just their favorite meal straight to their door. Gifts arrive in as little as 25 minutes, and you can add a personalized video message for that additional so-not-last-minute touch. So this spring, get a leg up on gift-giving with Uber Eats, last-minute gifts that land every time.

Must be 21 or older to purchase alcohol. Product availability varies per regency app for details. I always thought I knew what quiet sounded like. The kind you hear in a forest just before sunrise, the stillness only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves or a distant bird call. but as I drove deeper into the woods, past where the gravel gave up and the dirt took over, I realized this was something else entirely. The quiet out here wasn't peaceful. It was loaded, waiting for something I couldn't name. The ridge wasn't marked on any official maps. I'd pieced it together through old topo charts and scraps of rumors from hikers who spoke about it like it was some sacred secret.

A perfect overlook with a spring-fed creek that cut through a grove's sort of, thick sunlight had to fight to break through. That's what they said. If it was half as good as the stories, it would be worth the hours of bumping along these trails that barely deserve the name. My tires kicked up so much dust that it hung in the air like smoke, swirling in lazy spirals behind me. It made everything ahead seem even darker, as if the forest was swallowing up the light. The road narrowed, hemmed in by trees that seemed to press closer with every mile. Branches scraped the sides of my truck like skeletal fingers.

I told myself it was just overgrown brush, but I couldn't help glancing at the rearview mirror, half expecting to see something following me. The trail finally widened just enough for me to pull off into a small clearing. I killed the engine, and the sudden silence was so loud it rang in my ears. I stepped out, stretching my legs, and some of the tension from the drive melted away. The forest was thick all around, a huddle of trees that seemed to shut in on itself, keeping its secrets locked inside. A creek bubbled in the distance, faintly, almost too soft to be real. I unpacked my gear with practiced efficiency, trying to shake the unease that had started creeping in somewhere back on the trail.

Tent, hammock, fire pit, all set up with the kind of precision that came from years of camping alone. The rituals of preparation always helped steady me, like building a fortress against whatever the night might bring. By the time I finished, the sun had begun to dip below the treetops, painting the clearing in shades of orange and gold. I stood at the edge of the clearing, looking out at the trees beyond. They seemed to lean just slightly toward me, their branches tangled together like they were whispering. The air was heavy, damp with the smell of earth. and rot, but there was something else too, something sharp and metallic, just faint enough to make me question if it was real. I decided to ignore it. There was wood to gather,

and a fire to start, and the sooner I had some light the better. As I went through the underbrush, snapping off branches and picking up fallen limbs, I was struck by how quiet it had gotten, not even the faint hum of insects or the chirp of a bird, just the crunch of my boots and the creak of wood in my hands. The creek wasn't far, so I walked toward it, figuring I'd collect water for the night while I was out. The closer I got, the stronger that metallic smell became, sharp enough now to make my nose wrinkle. At the edge of the water, I froze. The creek wasn't flowing the way it should have been. The surface was too still. And there, half submerged in the shallows, was something that didn't belong, a shoe, small, muddy, and soaked through. I looked around, scanning the trees,

the bank, the water, no other signs of life. The shoe could have been here for weeks, maybe months. It didn't mean anything. Probably some careless hiker lost it upstream, and it got carried here by the current. But why didn't the water look right? I gripped the bottle in my hand, filled it quickly, and headed back to camp. The woods seemed darker now, the trees casting long shadows that stretched out toward me like reaching arms. I moved faster than I meant to, my gear clinking together with each step. By the time I reached the clearing, my fire pit was a welcome sight, even unlit. The flames caught easily when I struck the match,

flaring to life with a crackle that sounded almost too loud in the quiet. I sat back, letting the warmth chase away the damp that had settled into my skin. Staring into the fire, I tried to tell myself the shoe was nothing. The smell was nothing. The stillness of the water. It was probably just the way creeks flowed out here, different from what I was used to. But as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the ridge, and the forest sank into shadow, I couldn't help but notice how the darkness felt heavier here. Like it wasn't just an absence of light, but something alive, something that watched from just beyond the fires glow. For the first time in years,

I wondered if I'd made the right decision coming out here alone. The morning crept in reluctantly, pale light filtered through the canopy, as if it were too timid to reach the ground. My sleep had been restless, filled with fragmented and disjointed dreams, full of shadows that dissolved the moment I opened my eyes. I forced myself out of the hammock, groaning as stiff muscles protested. The air had a bite to it, heavy with dampness that clung to my clothes as I I coaxed the fire back to life. Breakfast was quick, just coffee and an energy bar. But something

about the way that creek had sat so unnaturally still the night before, refused to leave me alone. I told myself it was curiosity. My hands, however, did shake just a little bit as I packed a small bag with water and a flashlight. The way down to the creek was narrow and overgrown with brambles that snagged at my sleeves. Every step made me feel like I was intruding on something old, something that didn't want me there. Halfway down the smell came back, a faint metallic tang that seemed stronger now in the cold air. When I reached the bank, I froze. The creek wasn't just still. It was wrong. The water looked thick, almost oily, its surface catching the light in strange, distorted patterns. And there, a few feet from where I'd seen the

shoe the night before was something new. A child's shirt. tangled in the roots of a tree that dipped into the water. Mud streaked and torn. It looked like it had been there for ages, but there was no mistaking its size. I crouched low, staring at the shirt as if it might explain itself. My mind was racing with possibilities, none of them good. Maybe it was nothing, just debris washed downstream. But the shoe had been here too, and now this.

The two together didn't feel like coincidence. movement in the corner of my eye made me spin around heart pounding the trees stood still their branches bare and brittle but i could have sworn i'd seen something dart between them too big to be a bird too quick to be anything else i stayed there for what felt like hours staring into the woods my breath coming sharp and uneven when nothing else stirred i forced myself to turn back to camp leaving the creek behind the day dragged each minute stretching out to eternity as I tried to busy myself. I wandered the perimeter of the clearing, gathering, gathering more wood and double-checking my gear. By the time the sun began its slow descent, I was more than ready for the distraction of a fire. Flames snapped and licked at the wood, their warmth pushing back the growing chill. I skewered a few pieces of sausage on a stick, turning them absent-mindedly as the shadows lengthened around me. that's when I heard the voice.

Can I sit by your fire? It was low-pitched and clear enough to cut through the crackle of the flames. I whirled around peering into the darkness. She stood just outside the ring of firelight, small and pale, her hair hanging in tangled strands about her face. Her dress, if you could call it that, was little more than a torn muddy slip, clinging to her thin frame. Her bare feet pressed into the dirt,

leaving faint prints behind her. My throat felt like it had closed up, but somehow I managed to speak. Where did you come from? Are you lost? She stepped closer, her eyes catching the firelight in a way that made them shine unnaturally bright.

No, I'm not lost. Her voice was calm, almost too steady for a child. I gestured to the empty log across the fire, my hands shaking slightly. Sit down. Are your parents nearby? She didn't answer right away, just watched me with those reflective eyes.

Finally, she said, they're close. Her words settled heavily in the air, making the space around us feel smaller. I tried to keep my tone light. You shouldn't be out here by yourself. It's dangerous. She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. It's not dangerous. Not for me.

The way she said it made my mind. stomach tighten. I glanced into the trees, searching for any sign of her family, but the woods were as silent and empty as ever. No voices, no lights. Just her. Do you want something to eat? I asked, hoping food might keep her talking. She nodded, and I quickly speared another sausage, holding it over the flames. She didn't move, didn't blink, just watched me with those two bright eyes. When the sausage was done, I wrapped it in a napkin and handed it across the fire. Her hand brushed mine as she took it, ice cold and too firm for someone her size. Thank you, she said softly before stepping back toward the trees. Wait, I called standing up. Where are you going?

She stopped at the edge of the firelight and turned, her face half hidden in shadow. Back to them. Who? My voice came out sharper than I intended. Who's with you? Her eyes flick to something behind me, and she smiled again, wider this time, showing teeth. You'll see. Before I could answer her, she had slipped into the darkness, her pale shapes swallowed up by the trees. I turned slowly, dread pooling in my gut. Shapes moved at the edge of the clearing, indistinct and silent. They stood just beyond the reach of the firelight, their forms blending with the shadows. My hands clenched into fists. my breath shallow and fast.

One of the shadows moved a little nearer, just near enough that the firelight caught the glint of an eye. It wasn't a reflection, it was watching me. And just like that, it melted back into the dark, leaving nothing behind but the whisper of leaves brushing together. I stayed frozen by the fire for what felt like hours, my eyes darting between the trees. They didn't come back, not then,

but I didn't move until the flames burned down to glowing coals, too afraid of what might be waiting in the dark. Morning arrived in a pale, hazy blur, the forest cloaked in mist that clung low to the ground. I sat by the dying embers of the fire, legs stiff and eyes gritty from a night spent wide awake. Every sound, the rustle of leaves, the creek of a branch, had kept me frozen in place, flashlight gripped tightly, waiting for the shapes to return. They hadn't, but their absence didn't bring comfort. It felt more like they were giving me time to stew, like prey left to weaken before the final strike. I forced myself to move, to pack up what I could. My hands were shaking so hard it took twice as long as it should have to fold the hammock and roll my sleeping bag. I saw the dirt near

the fire pit and dropped to a crouch to take a look. Small prince. Barefoot, pressed deep into the soil, circling the pit and leading toward my tent. They were fresh, overlapping the grooves my boots had made the day before. She'd come back while I was sitting there and I hadn't noticed. Worse than the footprints were the scratches. Thin, deliberate marks clawed into the canvas of my tent, long enough to pierce through the fabric. Whatever had done it had circled the tent over and over, carving lines like they were marking territory. I didn't bother with breakfast.

My appetite had fled, replaced by the singular need to leave. The narrow trail out of the clearing seemed darker than it had the day before, the undergrowth brushing against my legs with every step. I didn't dare look behind me, not after what I'd seen last night. The weight of unseen eyes bore down on me, urging me forward faster than I wanted to go. The hike to the nearest campsite wasn't far, maybe 20 minutes, but it felt like hours. When I finally broke through the trees, the sight of another fire pit, still smoldering faintly, almost made me cry out.

A man and woman sat on folding chairs, their backs to me. They turned as I approached, their faces lined with the kind of weariness that spoke to nights like the one I'd just endured. Sorry to bother you, I said, my voice rough. But did either of you happen to see anyone last night? A kid, maybe? Their expressions darkened. The woman setting her tin cup down carefully before speaking.

We did. A girl, barefoot, came out of the woods asking for food. Her words hung heavy in the air, each one sharpening the knot in my stomach. What did you do? I asked, though I already knew the answer. Gave her some granola bars, the man replied, his voice low. She didn't stay long, said she was with her family. And them?

I gestured toward the woods behind them. my throat tight. Did you see anyone else? The couple exchanged a glance, their unease clear. Shapes, the woman said finally. In the trees, too many of them, all just standing there. I felt the ground shift under me, the confirmation more unsettling than I'd expected. I think we need to call someone, I said.

This, whatever this is, it's not right. The man nodded slowly. Rangers came through a while back. We could try again. We did. The ranger who arrived looked as tired as we felt. His uniform rumbled and his face lined with the kind of skepticism that came from hearing the same story too many times. I told him everything. The girl, the shapes, the prince, and the couple added their part. The ranger didn't look surprised. He didn't even take notes. We've had reports like yours before, he admitted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The stories go back decades. There's talk of a family living off-grid out here, but no one's ever gotten close enough to confirm anything. You're not the first to see the girl, and you probably won't be the last.

What happens when people see her? I asked, my voice cracking. He shrugged, his nonchalance making my skin crawl. Most people leave. Some stick around long enough to see more than they want. My advice, pack up and go. The couple didn't need telling twice. They started breaking down their camp as soon as long as they were. the Ranger left, I returned to my clearing to grab the rest of my gear, the hike back feeling heavier with every step. Her tracks still lay there, criss-crossing the clearing. I hurried to pack

up the last of my things, the heavy silence ringing in my ears. As I heaved my pack over my shoulder, I glanced up toward the ridge above the creek. She was there, quite still, her dress fluttering weakly in the breeze. Her eyes caught the sun and tossed it back at my side. She was there, me in that inhuman way that set my teeth on edge. Behind her, shadow shifted, more than I could count, blending with the trees like they belonged there. None of them moved, but I knew they were watching. I forced myself to turn around and head for the trail. The crunching of my boots against the dirt sounded deafening to my ears, but I pressed on. I did not look back, not even when the wind carried a faint, high-pitched laugh that was not quite human. By the time I reached. By the time I

reached my truck, my hands were shaking so badly it took three tries to get the key into the ignition. I didn't stop driving until the forest disappeared in my rearview mirror, the road opening up to sunlight in empty fields. Even then, the girl's face stayed with me, her unblinking eyes and the way she'd smiled like she knew something I didn't. I ain't been back to the ridge. Maybe no one should. Ryan Reynolds here from Mintmobile, the message for everyone paying big wireless way too much. Please for the level, everything good in this world, stop. With Mint, you can get premium wireless for just $15 a month. Of course, if you enjoy overpaying, no judgments, but that's weird. Okay, one judgment. Anyway, give it a try at mintmobile.com slash switch. Up front payment of

$45 for three-month plan, equivalent to $15 per month required. Intro rate first three months only, then full price plan options available, taxes and fees extra, seeful terms at mintmobile.com. The freedom of the open road had always been my escape. That box truck, The Ark was my sanctuary, a fortress on wheels that allowed me to stay wherever the road led. Autumn it was, and the Appalachian seemed to me like a detour to perfection, the silence of its trails afar from the monotonous miles of the highways. I had heard whispers of such solitude that could only be found on those winding trails. It sounded ideal, so I turned off the main road onto a dirt path,

letting the truck's sturdy tires crunch over the uneven surface. As the trees closed in around me, the sunlight filtered through in slivers, giving the road an almost ethereal glow. I didn't see another vehicle for hours. That's the kind of isolation I typically seek out, but there was something in that stillness that seemed off. The air was heavy, even the leaves on the trees barely moved, despite the occasional breeze. But I pressed on. The map app showed nothing for miles, which meant no one would bother me. Late that afternoon I rounded a curve and suddenly found myself in a clearing.

The sight before me pulled my gaze from its normal fixation on the road ahead. A cluster of crumbling buildings sat like a collection of forgotten relics of times past. Cabins leaned against each other, supporting one another as their roofs sagged with age. A barn stood, doors ajar, gaping open, dark and hollow. The centerpiece was a church, or what was once so. The steeple was broken, jagged against the fading sky. No sign of life, no cars, no smoke from chimneys, just decay. Instinct told me to keep moving, but I slowed the truck as I passed.

Something about the place demanded attention. As I scanned the settlement, a figure emerged from behind one of the buildings. They stood still, just far enough away that I couldn't make out their features. Long coat, maybe a hat. but they didn't wave or make a move to acknowledge me. They just stood there, watching. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as I hit the gas, rolling past the village and back into the cover of the forest.

By the time I found a place to pull off, the sky was laced with oranges and purples. The spot was perfect, open ground surrounded by thick woods. I shut off the truck and hopped out into the quiet, almost jarring after the constant noise of the engine. The floodlights snapped on, their beams bright as they cut through the growing dark. My truck's perimeter alarm was on, primed to alert me should anything wander too close. Dinner was a simple affair, just a can of soup, heated on my portable stove.

The warm, savory scent combined with the earthy smell of the woods, and suddenly everything felt back to normal. As night began to fall, I settled back into my routine. I murmured to myself about a true quoth. crime podcast coming from the speaker at the back. The well-known voice spoke of crimes that happened in far-flung places. I leaned back in the warm glow of the interior of the truck and let my eyes drift closed. A shrill screech brought me upright with a jolt. The perimeter alarm. My pulse pounded as I grabbed a flashlight and shoved open the back door. The floodlights illuminated every corner of the clearing, but nothing moved. The air was still. That kind of

of silence that made you hyper aware of every tiny sound, the hum of the lights, the faint rustle of leaves. I scanned the tree line, the beam from the flashlight cutting into the shadows, but there was nothing. No glowing eyes, no movement, just the trees. The alarm reset and I forced myself to laugh. A raccoon, maybe a bird. It had to be something small enough to trip the motion sensor. Back inside the truck, I double-checked the locks and turned off the lights. It felt safer that way, less exposed. Sometime in the night, I woke again. It wasn't the alarm this time. The silence was different now, more like the world outside had gone completely still. Then it came, a tapping, soft but deliberate, a sound that could only come from something with

intent. It started low, near the back corner of the truck, and moved slowly along the side. Tap, tap, tap. I reached for the crowbar I kept on. under the bed clutching it tightly as I crawled toward the small side window. The tapping stopped. My breath hitched as I peered through the glass. At first, all I saw was the clearing, bathed in faint moonlight. Then, just at the edge of the trees, something moved. Figures, several of them, barely visible against the dark backdrop of the woods. They weren't walking. Their movements were stiff, jerky, like they weren't entirely in control of their limbs. I counted three, maybe four, before one stepped into the light. The face was pale, stretched tight over bone. The eyes reflected

the light, but not like in animals. They looked too human, too aware. They held something long and sharp, but the angle of the light made it impossible to tell what. A sudden scrape above my head made me jerk back. Something was on the roof. The crowbar felt heavy in my hand as I stared up at the closed hatch, waiting for whatever was out there to make its next move. The laughter started softly, almost as if carried on a distant breeze. It was disjointed, a chorus of mismatched tones that seemed to come from everywhere at once. My grip on the crowbar tightened, the cool metal grounding me as I stayed perfectly still, listening. The hatch above me didn't move again. but I couldn't shake the sound of faint scratching on the truck's roof.

It wasn't constant, more like the occasional drag of something heavy being pulled. The figures outside had retreated, their strange, jerking movements blending into the shadows of the forest. The floodlights still cast their harsh glow, but they seemed weaker now, their range somehow diminished. It was as if the clearing was shrinking, the darkness pushing in closer, with every second. I forced myself to move, crawling toward the back of the truck where I had a better view of the clearing. What caught my attention immediately was the etched patterns in the dirt. They hadn't been there before. Circles, several of them, perfectly spaced and impossibly precise.

Each one was roughly a foot across, with jagged lines radiating out, like a crude sunburst. They looked burned into the ground, edges blackened as if seared by something too hot to imagine. The laughter died away, replaced by another sound, a metallic hum, low, and vibrating. It pulsed, almost as though it were alive, and I realized it wasn't coming from any one spot. It resonated through the air, through the ground, through the truck itself. I could feel it in my teeth, in my chest, and it made my head swim. Enough, I muttered to myself, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. my hand darted for the ignition key but a metallic clang from the roof stopped me cold the sound was sharper this time like steel meeting steel and it was followed by that same deliberate tapping tap tap tap

I gritted my teeth, refusing to let the fear take over. The crowbar in my hand felt like the only thing tethering me to reality. Slowly, I stood, keeping my movements deliberate. The hatch loomed above, its edges lined with the faintest trace of frost that glinted in the dim interior light. I reached for the locking mechanism, ready to slam it shut if it opened again. Before I could touch it, the tapping stopped. The silence returned, but this time it wasn't empty. It was heavy, thick with the weight of something unseen.

My ears strained for the smallest noise, but all I caught was the faint hum still vibrating through the truck. A shadow passed across the side window. I froze, staring at the outline of something, some one, standing just beyond the glass. Their head was tilted unnaturally to one side, as if they were curious. The glass misted for a moment, like a breath had escaped them. Then they shifted, their figure dissolving into the deeper black of the night. This was no accidental meeting, no joke.

Whatever, whoever this was, they had a reason for this, and I stood in the middle of it all. The roof hatch rattled violently. The sudden movement was so loud it echoed inside the truck. I jumped back. The crowbar held out in front of me like a shield. Whatever it was, it didn't make the hatch open, but it slid. I slammed against it harder this time, shaking the truck on its wheels. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall as the hum grew louder, more insistent.

The floodlights outside flickered. Once. Twice. Then they went out, plunging the clearing into darkness. My hands shot out, fumbling for the emergency switch that would reboot the system. Before I could reach it, the side window shattered. Glass rained down, scattering across the floor as cold air, rushed in. I turned, just in time to see a pale arm retreating through the broken window, its fingers impossibly long and thin. I lunged for the controls, slamming my palm against the reset

button. The floodlights roared back to life, their beams cutting through the clearing once more. The figures were there, closer now, dozens of them. They ringed the truck, their heads canted at impossible angles, their limbs moving in ways that made no sense. They weren't. They holding flashlights. They had, each of them, jagged metallic rods in their hands, which pulsed to the tune of that strange hum that filled the air. I didn't wait to see what they would do next. Scambling into the driver's seat, I jammed the key into the ignition and turned. The engine roared to life, its familiar rumble a small comfort against the chaos outside. Slamming the truck into gear, I hit the gas. The truck lurched forward.

scattering some of the figures as it barreled out of the clearing. The road was barely visible, the headlights bouncing with every bump and rut. The trees seemed to close in, their branches clawing at the sides of the truck as I sped through the forest. Behind me, the floodlights illuminated glimpses of movement. The figures weren't retreating. They were following, their jerky movements keeping pace with the truck in ways that shouldn't have been possible. The hum grew fainter as I put more distance between myself. in the clearing, but it never went away completely. It lingered, like an unwelcome reminder that

this wasn't over. When I finally reached a paved road, the truck skidded as I turned sharply, its tires squealing in protest. The forest thinned, and the first hints of dawn painted the horizon in pale grays and blues. I didn't stop until the trees were far behind me, their shadows were placed by the safety of an open stretch of highway. Even then, the marks on the roof of the truck and the etched patterns in the dirt stayed burned into my mind. Whatever had happened back there,

I never plan on going into the woods again. Stay safe out there.