Footprints of Ash

Eden lay frozen inside her plush sleeping bag, her own name still echoing in her ears after hours had passed with no more sounds. Her name, why her name? whispered like a vow, like a claim. The night pressed in thick and heavy, silence stretched to breaking point as she continued to strain her ears.

Then came the sound.

Soft footsteps were retreating through the undergrowth, slowly, leisurely, as though the owner had all the time in the world. As if the one who had spoken knew she wasn't going anywhere, that she was unable to move.

Her throat ached with the scream she hadn't allowed herself to release, she forced herself to take slow, even breaths afraid even the sound of air coming from her tent would call him back. Minutes blurred into hours as she waited for the thing to come back. She didn't remember falling asleep again, or even relaxing her clenched muscles, she only had a vague memory of the surprising mercy of the darkness, swallowing her until the silver light of dawn seeped through the walls of her tent.

When the sun had finally risen she timidly unzipped her tent flap, cool and fresh, the Mountain air hit her face, as revitalising as a large coffee. The clearing looked as ordinary as it had looked the night before, from the blackened pile of Ash and burnt logs that was the fire she sat before, to the scattered contents of her pack just where she had placed them when setting up her campsite. She decided to get herself moving, she set to work rekindling a new small fire and placed a pot of hot water over it, intending to make herself her usual morning coffee, she reached over to her pack to collect the copper brown granules and that's when she saw it.

Just to the left of the entrance of her tent, impressed into the dirt as if it belonged there, outlined by grey, powdered ash, was a large footprint.

Eden's hand stopped mid reach, she leaned towards the print, her eyes directly over it, her pulse quickening instantly. The shape was wrong somehow, too large for any man, the edges cut deep into the ground as if the earth itself had recoiled from whatever had stood here. She reached out, intending to touch it, then snatched her hand back in the last second, just before her fingertips made contact with the shape, Just coming close to it, she felt a strange energy radiating from it, as she moved her hand away, a faint coil of black smoke erupted from the blackened soil, as if to touch her.

The memory of his voice invaded her mind instantly Eden.

It should have filled her with terror, and it did... for a second, but beneath the fear and the sudden feeling of doom lurked something else, something she pushed away in denial... Recognition.

Longing.

Desire.

She shook her head and forced herself to look away from the print. The longer she stared, the more it seemed to pulsate with energy, inviting her in so the ground could open up and claim her. She hastily grabbed her coffee from the pack and added it to the now boiling water, intending to go about her day as if she hadn't seen anything, however the longer she sat there, trying to drink the scalding liquid quickly, the more she seemed to feel the strange power of the footprint wrapping its energy around her.

She grabbed her diary and sleeping bag and shoved them unceremoniously into her pack, with her hands trembling, she set about tearing down her campsite and repacking everything, paying careful attention to avoid looking at the print as she folded her tent.

By the time she slung her pack over her shoulders, her nerves were raw. She tightened the straps and left her small clearing, reaching the trail again and beginning the day's hike. Every sound in the forest seemed to jangle her nerves, the crack of a twig or the scurrying of small animals on the forest floor, she caught herself looking over her shoulder every few minutes, half expecting to see a dark figure following her.

The mountains had changed.

She couldn't put her finger on how, only that they no longer felt like the same place she'd visited before, she even wondered if she had come to the right place. The air was thicker here, heavy and charged with some strange electricity that rolled over her skin, making her tingle in enticing and terrifying ways. Sunlight filtered through the high branches, fractured somehow, rippling, as if she was walking under water instead of a clear spring sky.

And yet, even with these uncomfortable thoughts swirling through her mind, she felt it again.

That same pull. The same invisible tether that pulled her here in the first place, it wound itself tightly around her chest, urging her deeper and deeper into the mountains, whispering that she was going the right way.

The phone call with her aunt invaded her mind again, the missing hikers, the stories. Ordinary people being swallowed by these very mountains, never found or spit back out resembling something other than themselves.

Eden clenched her fists and shook her head, she pushed forward. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let fear undo her, not after Ben, not after her sister, she had come her to start over, to start a new life, and whatever haunted these woods would certainly not take that from her, it was the only thing she had left.

Stil, when the wind shifted and she thought she heard her name again, carried faintly through the trees in the soft breeze, she quickened her pace and focused on her steady, sure footsteps.

By midday, her muscles were already sore and she realised just how much she had let herself go over the last few years, she grabbed her canteen and realised there was only a few sips of water left. When the sound of rushing water reached her ears, relief surged through her. "thank god" she thought to herself, she followed the sound until she stumbled upon a hidden grove where a small narrow waterfall rushed down into a perfect pool of crystal water, surrounded by slick, moss covered rocks and beautiful wild flowers.

Eden knelt by the waters edge, plunging her hands into the icy current, the cold bit into her skin as she lifted her hands to drink from them, the water was perfect, fresh and cold. She refilled her canteen and sat back on her heels, enjoying the soothing atmosphere this pristine place created.

She exhaled a shaky, nervous laugh " Get a grip Eden" she muttered to herself. " You're letting your imagination run wild" i never should've answered Aunt Liddy's phone call She thought. it makes sense doesn't it? Aunt Liddy's warning about the hikers and the stories of the mountains, the betrayal, the lack of sleep since the breakdown of my 2 most important relationships, its enough to make anyone hear things in the dark.

She pulled her diary from her pack, opening it to her last entry, she read the words she had written the night before and winced, heat creeping into her cheeks at the sight of her own words i liked the way he said my name. Snapping it shut with a roll of her eyes at her own stupidity, she shoved it back into her pack and rose to her feet, The mountains weren't haunted, weren't dangerous, she was just carrying her own demons around with her.

She took one last look at the picturesque view of the water fall and left to rejoing the trail, telling herself she would spend some more time there at the end of her trip.

By late afternoon she spotted a large, wide clearning ahead, ringed with pale birch trees and huge oaks, the ground was soft underfoot, wildflowers dotted around, the space was so different from the suffocating press of the forest, open and welcoming.

"This will do" she murmured, choosing to speak to herself out loud for self reassurance, she unshouldered her pack and got to work.

By the time dusk descended, Eden had a small fire crackling at the centre of the clearing. She sat cross legged beside it, clutching the tin cup of tea she had brewed on her camp stove. The heat of the drink spreading through her like a tonic, warming her to her bones, on the stove sausages sizzled, wrapping her in their intoxicating scent, like a pleasurable sheild.

Above, the moon hung full and pale, its light spilling into the clearing so clearly it seemed to banish all traces of shadows from the edges of the trees. For the first time since setting food in the Mystic Mountains, she felt as though she could breathe easily.

The memory of the footprint still tugged at her mind, but here , in this moment it seemed less real, more like a trick of her own imagination. Eden cradled her cup between her palms, staring into the fire.

She ate her food and felt her eyes grow instantly heavy.

Maybe, she thought, tomorrow she would wake up and laugh at herself.

Maybe.