The Forest

 The Forest

“Hey, Marshall!” Cody exclaimed. “Let’s go, man!” 

They were running behind schedule this morning, they meant to be on the road by 8… it was 9:30 a.m. 

“I’m coming! Just have to grab my hoodie.” Marshall raced to his truck. Before opening the door, he took a glance at it. “Dang, I’m good,” he mumbled to himself. 

Marshall was a mechanic and restored his 1973 Chevy after buying it from a junkyard. He opened the door and grabbed his favorite olive hoodie from the seat. 

“‘Bout time!” Cody said. 

“Yeah, yeah. You remembered your boots this time, right?” Marshall poked back. 

“Yeah, I got ‘em.”

Cody fired up his truck, which Marshall fixed up and gifted to Cody, and they finally started down the road. It was a long, beautiful drive to the trailhead. 

“Hey, did ya hear about the funny stories goin’ ‘round town about this trail?” Cody asked.

“Nope, I’ve been nose to the grindstone recently,” Marshall responded.

“Aww, man! The old timers are saying there are strange sounds coming from the woods at night. Old Jim started the rumors and now everyone’s talking about it!” Cody said in a mocking tone. “Don’t they know it’s moose mating season?”

The hairs on the back of Marshall’s neck stood up. Old timers know when it’s mating season. He gave an unsteady laugh and turned the music up as they cruised through the mountain roads.

The sun shone high in the sky when they arrived at the trail. With their packs full and a three hour hike ahead of them, they set off.

“Weather’s perfect today, huh?” Marshall asked. Nothing could be wrong with weather this gorgeous.

“Amazing! Seventy degrees and sunny with not a chance of rain or snow for the next five days!” Cody said.

They hiked through the valley, passing between vast mountains with peaks covered in chilling snow and ice. They reached their campsite at 3:30 p.m. 

“Alright, five hours of light left. Let’s set up here. There’s a nice creek just down there,” Cody pointed, “and we should be sheltered from the wind.”

“I don’t know, man. Something kinda feels off here,” Marshall said.

“What do you mean? It’s a little cold, I guess,” Cody responded, confused.

“Yeah, that must be it.”

Cody collected wood and Marshall built their shelter, glancing into the darkening forest every few minutes. The shelter was simple, a couple of low makeshift beds across from each other with slanted roofs above them and a fire in the middle. He covered the roofs over their beds with a mixture of dirt, leaves, and sticks.

“Alright, that should be good for tonight. Let’s go get some water,” Marshall said.

They both ventured down the path a little further and filled their water bottles with the glistening water. 

“Shew! Water’s extra cold today!” Cody said. 

“I mean, it is September. What did you expect? That water is coming straight from the mountains up there!” Marshall pointed at a snow-covered mountain in the direction from which the water came.

On their way back to camp, a cold breeze kicked up. 

“Hey, do you see that tree?” Cody pointed at a tree with a strange-looking carving on it.

“I was just about to ask you that,” Marshall responded.

The two approached the tree. It appeared ordinary but for a mysterious symbol scorched into the bark. The blackened lines formed the shape of a diamond with a snake and a smoking pipe crossed behind and a hand in the middle. 

“Damn teenagers. Don't got any respect for anything,” Cody said angrily.

“No, not teenagers.” Marshall took a step back. “That’s a Cheyenne symbol. The diamond is their tribal symbol, the pipe is a sign that it’s a ceremonial site, and the snake symbolizes defiance.” Marshall’s tone rolled low and somber.

“Then what’s the hand for?” Cody asked.

“It’s a sign that someone was wounded or killed.”

They stared at the symbol. From the weathering on its edges, Marshall guessed it had been created long ago. The blackening, though, looked freshly burned.

“Let’s go back to camp,” Cody said wearily.

Marshall kept staring at the symbol. He’d spent a lot of time with the Cheyenne and knew what that could mean. He’d heard stories of a warrior who defied the Chief and was banished. It was said he set off towards the mountains. He stayed hidden until a group of bandits found him. When they came onto his land, he killed three of them before they hunted him down. When word reached the Cheyenne, they came looking for him to confirm his death. His home was found burned to the ground. 

It was a hundred years ago. A ghost story they told Cheyenne kids so they wouldn’t defy the Chief. It can’t be real. 

“C’mon man, let’s go! The sun’s going down.” Cody shook Marshall’s shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go,” Marshall agreed.

They hiked back to camp and got a fire going. Cody brought a couple of steaks with him to make for supper. While Marshall boiled the water, Cody cooked the steaks.

“I think I’ve outdone myself!” Cody licked his fingers.

Marshall stared into the fire blankly.

“You alright, buddy? You’ve barely touched your food,” Cody said.

“Yeah, just thinking about that symbol,” Marshall replied. “I think this area is sacred to the Cheyenne, so let’s make sure we take extra good care of this place, okay?”

“We always do, but I get it,” Cody replied.

It was late so they decided to get some rest.

“G’night, buddy,” Cody said.

“Night,” Marshall replied. 

But he was too restless to sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED