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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-10-02 16:25:34+00:00.

It was my first day in the field as a park ranger. My first duty station was in one of the most remote regions in the state. The sky over Montana hung heavy with storm clouds casting darkness over the endless trees. The mountains lined the horizon, their peaks disappearing into the sky. I had never seen mountains so big, jagged, and imposing. I was eager to make a good impression, eager to prove I belonged here. This job had always been my dream. But, as I drove up the narrow dirt road to the ranger station, a knot of unease began to creep into my stomach.

The isolation of this place was palpable, even from my car. The silence of the wilderness pressed in on me, broken only by the wind against the tree branches or the distant cry of an animal. Civilization was far away, and for the first time since taking this job, I realized how truly alone I was going to be. But, despite this, I felt confident, and excited to put my new training to use.

The ranger station came into view, smoke from the chimney rising into the air. It was nestled at the edge of Pine Creek Forest. The station was small, squat, and unassuming, honestly more of a cabin than a headquarters. Standing by the entrance was Earl Bennett. A burly man in his mid-fifties with graying hair poking out from under his hat, and a weather-beaten face that had clearly seen its share of harsh winters. He didn’t smile when he saw me approaching, and he skipped the pleasantries.

“You’re late,” he grunted, glancing at his watch.

I swallowed hard, feeling my confidence suddenly turn into nervousness. “Sorry, sir. The roads…”

“The roads are always like that, it’s middle-of-nowhere Montana, kid” he cut me off. “You’ll learn soon enough. Out here, you better be prepared for anything.”

I nodded, feeling small under his stern gaze, like a child getting a good lecture from his parents. “Well, come on then”, he said as he motioned for me to follow him into the station. As I entered, I spotted another ranger sitting quietly in the corner, staring out the window at the coming storm. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and a calm expression on his face. Earl didn’t introduce him immediately.

The station was simple; a few desks, a gun safe, a kitchen, a radio room, and sleeping quarters in the back. Earl handed me a map of the region. “Your job is to patrol this area. You’re going to check for signs of poaching, illegal campsites, and anything else that doesn’t belong. Poaching’s been a problem around here for a while. Keep your eyes open, learn your area, and don’t ever let yourself get too comfortable.”

I nodded, unfolding the map and scanning the area. My territory stretched deep into the dense forests, far beyond where most people would dare to venture. “And him?” I asked, motioning toward the man by the window.

Earl glanced over. “That’s Daniel Black Elk. He’s the quiet type, but he knows these woods better than anyone. If he gives you guidance, you better listen up. His family’s been on this land for generations.”

I extended my hand to Daniel. “Tom Carter, good to meet you, Daniel.”

Daniel’s grip was firm but gentle, his eyes never leaving mine as we shook hands. “Daniel Black Elk,” he said in a voice that was low and smooth. “Welcome to Pine Creek.”

Earl wasted no time getting down to business. He spread a map of the area across the table and tapped at it with his thick fingers. “This is your territory now. The Pine Creek region is thousands of acres of forest, mountains, rivers, and lakes. You’ll be responsible for these areas, keeping an eye out for anything unusual.”

I nodded, trying to absorb the sheer scale of the territory. “Anything I should be particularly looking for?”

“Everything,” Earl said flatly. “This ain’t some well-maintained national park. It’s rough terrain. Weather changes fast, animals aren’t always friendly, and the nearest help is hours away. If you get in trouble out there, you’re on your own. So don’t get into trouble.”

His tone left no room for argument, and I nodded again. He wasn’t exaggerating. The sheer remoteness of the place was beginning to sink in.

“What about the poaching?” I asked. “Who’s behind it?”

Earl leaned back in his chair, a grim look on his face. “Locals, mostly. Some of ‘em hunt for sport, some for money. Wolves, elk, bears, you name it. They know the forest better than most, and they don’t take kindly to us rangers poking around their business.”

I frowned. “Sounds like it could get dangerous.”

“It can,” Earl said, then looked out the window, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “But there’s worse out there than poachers.”

His words hung in the air like a fog, and for a moment, a heavy silence settled over the room. Daniel glanced at Earl but said nothing. There was an unspoken tension between the two of them, something I wasn’t privy to yet.

“Like what?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Earl’s eyes flicked back to me, hard and cold. “Just keep your wits about you, and don’t go out there trying to be a hero and get yourself or anyone else hurt.”

The first week of patrols was uneventful, but the forest had a way of unsettling me even when nothing happened. The trees loomed tall and silent, their trunks dark and twisted, like ancient giants frozen in time. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set my nerves on edge, and I constantly found myself looking over my shoulder, expecting to see something lurking in the shadows. I reminded myself that I would get used to it, with time.

Daniel accompanied me on a few of my first patrols, guiding me through the more difficult terrain. He rarely spoke unless it was necessary, but when he did, it was always to point out something I would have otherwise missed, like animals tracks or a hole to avoid stepping in. His knowledge of the land was impressive, and though he was quiet, I appreciated his presence. There was something calming about him, like he was in tune with the land in a way I couldn’t yet comprehend. I felt safe with him.

One afternoon, while we were hiking through a particularly dense section of the forest, I asked more about him and what his story was.

“My family’s been here for centuries,” Daniel said, his voice low. “Long before the park was established, before the settlers came. My people have always been the stewards of this land. We know its secrets.”

“Secrets?” I asked, curious.

Daniel paused, looking out at the trees with a distant expression. “The land remembers. It has its own memory, and its own spirits. There are more things out here then just man and animals.”

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, but I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or if it was just part of his culture. Maybe he was just speaking metaphorically? Still, there was something about the way he spoke, so matter of fact, that made me believe him.

That evening, after we returned to the station, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Every shadow felt like it was something following me, and every gust of wind carried whispers to my ears. I had been on edge already, and the conversation with Daniel didn’t help.

Earl brushed off my concerns when I mentioned to him what Daniel had said about there being more in the forest than just man or animal.

“Ah, that’s just first week jitters,” he said. “The forest can get under your skin if you let it. Just stick to your patrols and don’t go looking for trouble. We all felt like that when we were new. And don’t go listening to none of Daniel’s superstitions. The guy knows his stuff but he can get a little out there, if you know what I mean”

I wanted to believe him, but the unease gnawed at me, a constant presence at the back of my mind. A few days later, I was out on patrol by myself, covering the western section of the forest. The day was overcast, and the clouds hung low and heavy, casting everything in a dull, gray light. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles, and the forest was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of wildlife absent. I vaguely recalled something in my training about when the forest goes silent.

As I made my way through a clearing, I spotted something unusual near the edge of the tree line. At first, I thought it was just a pile of leaves or debris, but as I got closer, I realized it was the mangled remains of an animal.

My heart sank as I knelt down to examine the scene. The animal, what looked like had been a deer, had been completely ripped apart, its flesh torn and shredded in a way that didn’t seem natural. The bite marks were too large and jagged to be from any predator I knew of in the area. I’d seen wolf kills before, and this wasn’t the same. It was savage, brutal, almost as if whatever had killed it had done so for sport rather than for food.

The ground around the carcass was disturbed, the grass flattened and trampled as if there had been some kind of struggle. But what stood out to me the most were the tracks. They were large, far larger than any wolf or bear, and they were shaped… different. The toes were elongated, almost claw-like, and they dug deep into the soil, leaving deep impressions.

My stomach churned as I took a few steps back, my hand instinctively going to the radio on my belt.

“Earl,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I found something. Looks like a poaching site, maybe, but… something’s not right.”

“What do you mean, not right?” Earl’s voice cr…

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