In the forest was a light. And that child was born with hatred. And so the demons fought each other.
And in the light there was a flame.
But the flame begets forth a darkness
And in the darkness sat a child.
And its hatred beckoned demons.
And the demons soon took over.
And the angels long since left.
And the forest filled with screams.
But all returned to silence
When they were blinded by the light.
Deafening rain. Tiny droplets fell on the canopies of trees. As they weaved through the leaved they descended, and united with others. They combined as they moved through the labrynth of bark. They grew both in size and strength. Water droplets would fall from their path and split into many, only to rejoin with others already rushing through their descent. Large droplets, fattened and plump, began to smash into the underbrush. They soaked into the mud until the mud could hold no more, and then they flooded the forest floor. Massive droplets, millions of them, marched in streams, formed fortresses in puddles, and occupied the forest. Their sound was dominant. Their power would be known.
The forest which was home to many, was now filled with refugees. Creatures all to familiar with this war campaign retreated from the front lines and took solace where they could - in the nooks of trees, under the thickest of bramble, in the places where the underbrush became overgrowth. All creatures knew to respect this tyrant, because his tantrum was normally short-lived. Yet there was one who refused.
Its front legs gave way to sharp claws which clamped deep into the mud with every step. Its back legs were wide and stable, and it shifted the erath beneath its feet with each movement. Its unblinking eyes were as thick as stone and deflected all the projectiles of the enemy. This was a being designed for war. Its movements were labored, its breaths were heavy, and yet its demeanor was unphased by the battle raging around it. Its eyes faced forwards, undoubtably determined. It was clear that this beast was hunting, but for what is hard to say.
Few refugees of the forest actually caught glimpses of the beast. Though they tried to peek at it through gaps in their hiding holes, their vision was blinded by the irridescent glow of its skin. So they could only stay hidden in their holes, and hope that they were not its prey. The beast forged on, alone, deafened by the torrential rain.
In the forest was a clearing.
In the clearing was a tent.
And in the tent it was safe.
Its canvas walls blocked out evil.
Higgs woke up with the Sun. He saw its light, softened thick cover of the trees, yet still unstoppable, pierce through the walls of his tent. He listened to the birds as they bellowed their tunes. Their melodies all different, yet their overlap formed a chorus. He listened to their music. He listened to his music, amazed by just how loud it was. But if the birds were up, and the Sun was out, that meant that he needed to start moving, lest he risk losing a day’s worth of travel.
He made motions to to get up, and as he shifted, he felt his clothes - they were damp and heavy. His shirt sleeves clung to his arm and the hem stuck to his torso as he crouched within the short tent. It was at this point he realized how cold he was. He reached for his pack and began to sort through its contents, careful not to disturb the placement of any items too much. He had planned for something like this - he kept some dry clothes near the center of his pack so that they would be the last to get we in the event that his pack got soaked. He found the dry clothes and rewarded himself for being proactive, before he began to shiver again. Still, he felt like there was no problem we wasn’t prepared to solve.
Although, with only a single pair of dry clothes, he couldn’t travel. How could he? Unless he was willing to shove his wet clothes into a wet pack and have a squishy, unsanitary, miserable experience, he could not travel with his gear in his current state. The fact that it even became this wet was frankly rediculous. What had he been doing last night? He was running from something, this much he knew, but why, and for how long? He pondered this for a few seconds before he shivered again and refocused on drying his clothes. He would call today a rest day, and would make up the miles over the next few weeks. Besides, as he crawled out of his tent and stood up, he realized that under his feet had begun to blister. The pain was not sharp, but it was present. So yes, today would be a rest day.
Of course, ‘rest’ was relative. He wasn’t very good at it. So after he removed his drenched clothing and dried himself off the best he could using the soaked shirt, he got to work on drying his clothing. This began with him tying a rope between two trees as a makeshift clothesline. As he worked, the pain from the blister worsened, and his work slowed. He was still cold, and there would be little kindling on the forest ground today. He feared he would just have to deal with it, and he went back to tying his line between the trunks of two trees. He triple knotted it and began to hang his wet clothes when he heard the a faint rustle. He whipped his head around and saw a figure.
It was another hiker: an older woman, who was rapidly approaching talking range as she trekked talking walking range with bright yellow hiking sticks in her hands.
“Morning friend”, she said.
“Morning”, he replied.
“Day or through hike?”, she continued
“Through”,
“Me too. Thinking I might go as far north as Virginia this time… Quite a storm we had
here last night”
“Yeah, rain soaked straight through my pack”
“I guessed it by the clothesline. Unlucky. How’d it get into your tent?”
“A little bit got in through the tent, but the majority came in from me. I got soaked in the rain during the hike.”
“You had to have been in that storm a while for it to get soaked like that” she said as she pointed towards shirt dripping on the line.
“Yeah, I was in it for a couple hours”
“A couple hours? At night?”, she exclaimed, “You musta had someplace to be.”
“Not really. I was getting away from…” He paused. “… from I don’t really know what”
“You saw a critter out there?”
“I’m not sure…”
And then they both paused.
“So you’re taking a zero day to rest then”, she began again, to avoid the awkwardness.
“Yeah. Need to dry these clothes, and on top of that my feet are starting to blister. Could use a day off.”
Her brow furrowed again. “Your feet are blistered?”
“Yeah”
“In those wet boots?”
“Yeah”.
This time she paused again, her face becoming more inquisitive. She reverted back to her smiling self before changing the subject and asking another question.
“Anyway”, she began. “That’s a real nice shirt you got hangin there. What’s the material on that?”
“Oh, I’m not sure, I think its cotton?”
“Oh bless your heart”, she stated as she dropped her pack and started rummaging through. She pulled out what looked like a large square bandage. It was moleskin, and she told him what it was, and she gave him some and told him how to use, and how it cushions blisters so that they hurt less. And she told him that blisters love water and he should keep his feet dry to prevent it from growing. And she told him to mail that cotton shirt back home at the first camping town he gets to because rule one of hiking is do not wear cotton. And she gave him a ziploc bag to keep his clothes dry. And she once again she asked why he was in the rain so late. And he once agian knew nothing.
And as quickly as she arrived, she left, and she took all his plans and preparation with her. He stood alone next to his tent as the birds, now in unison, continued to sing.
In the forest was a breeze.
And the breeze carried a voice.
And the voice provided comfort
In a language unfamiliar.
Higgs had been clawing up the side of a mountain for over 4 hours now. His muscles seared with pain. The higher he went was the more the land began to slope, the larger the rocks that he had to traverse became, and the thicker the roots that he had to vault got. His focus was singular - to reach Sassafras Gap Shelter and set up camp before nightfall. He had climbed nearly 3000 ft today, yet there was still no end in sight. But Higgs, with his unshaved beard, his dirty synthetic shirt, and his joints wrapped in tape, appeared completely possessed, and so he marched onward. Finally, as the sun fell over the horizon, the roof of the shelter began to peek over the rocks he climbed.
The shelter was a wooden hut with three walls, a roof and an awning; it was a penthouse sweet compared to the rest of Appalachia. Against a darkening sky, the huts visage was made apparent from the glow of the embers from a nearby campfire. From inside the shelter came the sweetest aroma. Higgs followed his nose inside, and he found who he was looking for.
He stood in front of her, in the dim gleam of the fire, and he appeared completely different that when they had last met. At first she stared, appearing confused, but soon she smiled, and she offerred him some of the hot cocoa she had made. They spoke for a long time about things that they knew, and for even longer about things that they didn’t. They sat their at the top of Mount Sassafras. During the day, you could see for miles at the summit. At night, the two could only see each other through the flames, but their vision stretched just as far.
In the forest was a flame.
And the flame would soon be fire.
Infernoes must burn brightly.
To fill the world with light.
In the shadow of an long-extinct volcano, two hikers trek north with each other. The air in the valley feels crisp, and is made even more refreshing by a stream which flows through the valley and nourishes the earth. The trees in the valley are huge, the growth is still thick and healthy from igneous soil made millions of years ago.
Two hikers, tired from their travels, stop as they usually do every few hours. This time they sit on the bank of the stream to refill their water, rest their legs, and have a quick meal to fuel their difficult journey. The loud trickle of the water provides a peaceful ambience, and in the clean air, the food smells excellent. The scent lingers in the air as they eat, and spreads downwind through the thick trees, enticing any creature it reaches. They sit here for about a half hour, eating in near silence. Afterwards, they pack their bags, and begin to head out again on full stomachs.
But only one finishes packing, because as they begin to zip their pack, they look into the tree-line and lock eyes with a beast. A bear, large and black, is standing perfectly still with its head angled ever-so-slightly down, its mouth open and drooling. And so the hiker who sees signals a message to the hiker who doesn’t that there is a watcher about 100ft from where they stand. The bear sees the signal as well, except he sees it as a signal of aggression, and begins to charge.
The hikers begin to scream. One screams in fear. The other screams a battle cry and charges back, waving their arms into the air and giving up no ground ground. The bear stops its charge inches away from their face and releases a primal roar. Yet the brave hiker continues to scream, just as primal as the animal. Now the brave hiker has inspired the other, and they both scream, sounds originating from the deepest pits of their stomach. They take turns when they run out of breath. They scream and scream and scream. The bear has long since left, and yet they still continue to scream.