From the memoires of Detective Joan Harvey, 2007:
It was a cold October morning when I woke up to my cellphone ringing on my bedside table.
Begrudgingly, I rolled to the side of the bed and answered.
The voice on the other end spoke with an apologetic tone, “Detective, I’m sorry to disturb you this late, but we have another one.”
That was the call I got when it officially set in. This wasn’t just a few freak occurrences.
This was a rash.
This was a pattern.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, cursed and climbed out of bed, groaning. My alarm clock said 3:44 AM. I’d been sleeping no more than four hours, and I was already getting back up to handle a case.
Part of me regretted telling the department to call me immediately if any more cases came in following this description. Sure, it was the right thing to do, but it felt like shit getting up in the middle of the night to deal with it.
I threw on yesterday’s pants and socks, then grabbed a fresh shirt out of my drawer. It was in bad need of being ironed, but I hadn’t had time this week, or the last.
My feet still ached from my heels, so I grabbed a pair of flats, threw on a jacket and headed out the door.
I knew I was going to have to drown myself in coffee to make it through this call.
Arriving at the hospital, I flashed my badge at the receptionist and told them what I was here for.
They gave me the room number and opened the security door for me.
When I arrived, the door was cracked, and I could hear medical staff talking inside, so I knocked on the door lightly before entering.
In the hospital bed was a heavily medicated man in his early twenties, covered in bandages from head to toe.
One nurse was tending to his bandages while another was checking his vitals.
“Hello, I’m Detective Joan Harvey, with the State Bureau of Investigation. I’m here because this man’s injuries are similar to two others who were reported in recent history. Can I ask some questions about the victim?”
The nurses looked up at me with surprise.
“I’ll tell you what I can.” The older of the two replied, “I’m the admitting nurse.”
“Why don’t you give me a quick rundown on what you know.” I told her.
“Patient’s name is Eric Smallies. We admitted him about ninety minutes ago to the ER with multiple lacerations covering most of his body. He was experiencing severe blood loss, and in extreme pain. We stitched the wounds we could and gave him a heavy dose of pain medication. The doctors are debating whether it would be best to put him in a medically induced coma until he has had time to heal, due to the severity of the trauma.” She explained.
“Any idea what might have been used to do this?” I asked.
“If I had to guess, a sharp knife. Maybe a razor or box cutter.” She answered.
“And you’ve run his bloods? Any drugs? Anything on the tox screen? I can’t imagine he sat still for it.” I inquired.
“Nothing. His girlfriend said he woke up like this and started screaming.” The nurse informed me.
“Girlfriend? Is she here?” I asked.
“She was when we admitted him, but the cops who were here took her for questioning. I assume they suspect she was involved. I just don’t see how one woman could have done this without drugging or restraining him.” She replied.
“Any sign of restraints being used? Bruised wrists or ankles?” I followed up.
“No, there’s no sign of any additional trauma. No bruises, scrapes, scratches, rope burn; no defensive wounds, nothing. It’s almost like he let it happen.” She told me grimly.
Maybe some kind of cult? I wondered to myself.
“Has he said much?” I asked.
“Other than screaming a lot, he just agreed with his girlfriend that he woke up like this. We got him medicated pretty quickly. The severity of trauma here is second only to full body burn victims. Running an IV was its own adventure.” She explained.
“So I’m assuming I won’t get to question him any time soon.” I stated rhetorically.
“No ma’am, I expect he will be medicated for at least a week. Once the pain subsides, I can only imagine the itching will be its own hell.” She looked at the bandaged victim with a mix of horror and sympathy.
“Any pictures of the wounds?” I asked.
“No, ma’am, we were in a rush to treat.” She answered.
“Would you do me a favor? Next time you do his bandages, give us a call. I’d like a forensic photographer nearby.” I explained.
“Yes, detective. Anything else we can help with?” She asked.
“I think that’s all for now. I have to go find his girlfriend.” I stepped out into the hall and called the station. They let me know the girlfriend was being held there for questioning.
“Keep her a little longer, I’m on my way.”
I arrived at the station a half past five, as the sun was starting to creep up on the horizon. I’d already finished one large coffee with a double shot of espresso and was ready for another.
Outside the interrogation room were the two officers who had already interviewed her.
“What’s she told you?” I asked.
“She just keeps saying he woke up like that. We sent a couple guys to their house to check for signs of a struggle.” The officer explained.
“Do you think she did it? Any signs of a fight on her? Blood?” I asked.
“Plenty of blood, but she just helped her boyfriend, who looks like he lost a fight with a weedwacker, get to the hospital, so that’s to be expected. No bruises, scratches, or anything else you’d expect from trying to harm a resisting man who has at least forty pounds and twelve inches on her.” He explained.
“Could it have been someone else? Maybe she paid someone? Any reason to believe she’s complicit?” I asked.
“No idea. It seems the most likely reason, but still leaves more questions than answers. If the guy even says he woke up like that, they’re both lying to hide something.” The officer told me.
“Sounds about right. Okay, I’m going to have a chat with her.” I told them.
“Go right ahead, but good luck, she’s fried. The girl is a wreck. She’s had multiple breakdowns already.” The officer explained.
“I’ll go easy.” I answered, and stepped into the room.
“Julia Gottier, is it?” I asked, closing the door and walking over to the table.
She didn’t look up. She was gently touching the bloody cuffs of her night shirt, and nodded shortly in acknowledgement.
“I’d like to ask you a few more questions. I know you’ve already talked to several officers. We want to do our best to find out who hurt your boyfriend.
Can you tell me where you two were last night?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, and with a shaking voice, and a short attitude, explained, “We went on a date in the woods. We did a little hike, picnic, campfire, then we came home. Nothing weird. No alcohol, no drugs. I already told the other cops.” She answered.
“Right, I’m sorry, I just want to make sure I understand the story.
Did you make any stops after?” I asked.
“No, we came right home.” She replied.
“And did you see or meet any other people in the woods?” I asked.
“A couple other hikers. There weren’t too many, it’s a week night and it’s getting cold out.” She answered.
“Does your husband have any enemies?” I asked.
“No one I can think of. Eric is a shut in. He barely does anything outside work, and he’s work from home. I can’t imagine anyone would be upset enough with him to hurt him. Even if they were, I’ve been with him all night. No one came into our house. He just woke up like this. Isn’t it possible this is some weird medical condition? Maybe it’s something new?” She sounded distraught, grasping for answers.
“Maybe, but understand, that’s quite a claim. We have to rule out any kind of foul play first. No medical condition like this has ever been observed.
Your boyfriend’s wounds look distinctly like knife wounds, and you were the only one seen with him in the past twelve hours. You do understand how this looks to us?” I asked.
“Of course I fucking understand how it looks!” She answered. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know you all think I did it! How do you think I did all that!? Do you think he just sat still while I carefully cut up his entire body? I’m guessing you think I drugged him!” She screamed.
“I don’t. His tox screen was clean. Here’s the thing, Julia, I just can’t imagine any other way he got hurt.
Was your boyfriend ever prone to self harming?
Could these have been self-inflicted?”
I knew they couldn’t have been, due to the extensive wounds on areas he couldn’t have reached himself, but I wanted to hear what she would say. If she tried to push the narrative that they were self-inflicted, that would be extremely suspicious.
She seemed deep in thought, then looked up, “No. Eric never showed signs he would hurt himself. As far as I could tell, he was happy and never dealt with anything like that. I don’t think he could have done it himself.”
Well, I gave her an out, and she didn’t lunge for it, even knowing this, I was still left with her as the only suspect.
Maybe she was telling the truth?
“Can you give me the location of the woods you went to? The trail you walked, any places or landmarks you stopped at?” I asked.
She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table to me, “It’s just this trail, we took the loop. If you follow it, that’s the path we took.”
I noted the location on my phone.
“Okay Julia, listen. Unfortunately your house is an active investigation. Is there anyone you could stay with for a couple nights?” I asked.
“My parents, maybe.” She answered.
“Why don’t you give them a call, I’m going to talk to the other officers about releasing you. I’m going to have to ask you to remain available, and not leave the state. You understand it would look bad.”
“My boyfriend is in the hospital, I’m not going anywhere.” She answered.
“Great. I’ll take my leave. I wish you both a speedy recovery.” I left and conferred with the other officers.
We were split on whether or not she did it, but no one could explain how.
The sun was rising.
It was past 6 am when I headed over to the trail that Julia had given me. On the way I called the team which had been investigating the house.
“The bed and surrounding area looks like a murder scene, that’s for sure. I’m surprised the guy lived.” The investigator told me.
“Any signs of forced entry?” I asked.
“None. Doors and windows were sealed up tight.”
“Any signs of a weapon?” I asked.
“We’ve checked all the knives in the kitchen, most are too dull to make the cuts we saw on the victim. We found his pocket knife, but it’s clean of blood, and has not been washed recently.” They told me.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“Dirt, wood dust and chips all over it.” He replied.
“I see. I’m assuming you’ve already gone through the trash. Check the yard, any holes in the walls, basement, toilet, attic. See if he has razor blades around. Did we check out the girlfriend’s car?”
“Yeah, we went through it when she was being held, with her permission. Nothing in there, just a lot of blood in the passenger seat.” They replied.
“Maybe she dumped it on the way to the hospital. Have someone trace the route and see if there’s any nearby rivers, ponds, anywhere she might have gone to dump it.” I suggested.
“It’s all woods out here. She could have thrown it anywhere.” They answered.
Fuck, they were right, “Okay just stick with the house and surrounding area then. I want to check out another lead.” I hung up, and stared at the entrance to the hiking trail. I wasn’t really sure what I expected to find here, but it was the last place they had been, maybe there was something more they weren’t telling me?
I was thankful for picking my flats today, as I started down the root-covered path. The dirt was hard packed, but covered in long pine needles which made it slick.
After about forty minutes, I came to what must have been the spot they stopped for their fire and picnic. There was a recently extinguished fire pit with two logs functioning as seats beside it.
I started to circle the site looking for anything unusual. Walking to the edge, I looked into the woods for any signs that they were watched or followed; scuffs in the leaves, broken branches, anything, but nothing stood out.
As I circled the campfire site, I came to a tree that caught my attention. Freshly carved in the tree were the names Eric + Julia.
It was strange; the sap had begun to harden, dripping from the deep gouges in the tree, and it was as red as blood.
Seeing nothing of note here, I followed their path the rest of the loop back to my car and sat down in the driver’s seat. My feet and legs ached, and out of a sense of unease, I locked my door, then leaned back my seat to rest a moment while the heater reinvigorated my cold limbs.
The two previous victims had recently gone hiking as well. Could there be some kind of stalker in the woods?
They were both couples, too.
Perhaps some kind of jealous aggression?
I sat up and grabbed my phone, then called the department, “Do we have the details on the first two related cases? Both also reported recently being in the woods, did they disclose where?”
I waited while they ran the records. They were able to give me the woods recently visited by one of the two previous victims. I asked them to follow up with the other and call me as soon as they knew, and headed off to the second area. It was about thirty minutes away in a nearby town.
I stopped for some breakfast and another coffee on my way, and picked up a pair of hiking boots from my house. I wasn’t going to check three hiking trails in my dress loafers.
The previous cases were two and six weeks old.
It wasn’t likely that I would find any remaining evidence, but I needed to be sure.
The second trail was much more remote and overgrown. It was a zig-zagging line of switchbacks up a steep, rocky hillside. It would have been a monumental effort to track or stalk a pair of hikers out here without being noticed.
After nearly an hour, I had reached the top. Thoroughly winded, I found a rock perched on the edge of the overlook and sat to catch my breath.
Quitting smoking was a great idea, though I couldn’t help but wonder how much better I would feel right now if I hadn’t spent ten years burning my lungs up.
As I looked around at the hilltop landing, my eyes fell upon another tree with carved bark.
PV + MT.
They matched the second victim and his girlfriend, Peter Vanderburgh and Michelle Timmons.
I stood and approached the tree. It was definitely a fairly fresh carving, and similar to the first, the sap had congealed into a crimson red, this one more dry and scab-like.
Perhaps a fellow hiker was not a fan of tree carvings?
But that still didn’t explain how they managed to cover every inch of the victim’s body in cuts while they slept.
A cold breeze had started sweeping up the hillside, and grey clouds were rolling in from the west.
That’s when I had the strangest feeling that I was being watched.
I turned and looked behind me but nothing was there, just tree trunks receding back into a line of evergreens.
I started back down the trail as a cold rain picked up, and the sky darkened further.
There was an uneasiness in these woods; a feeling of being unwelcome, and the continued sense that I was being watched followed me on my descent.
The trail was slick from the rain, pine needles and fallen leaves, forcing me to walk slowly.
That’s when I heard the crunch of footsteps descending the hill behind me.
I turned and looked back to see a large man in a black coat and dark jeans coming down the hill behind me.
I didn’t know why, but I got an uncomfortable feeling.
I hadn’t seen him on the way up. Had he been there watching me the whole time?
Or was there another trail I hadn’t seen?
I continued down the hill with a quickened pace, but the unstable ground, coupled with my growing fatigue from the first hike, were causing a struggle.
The man behind me on the trail, however, seemed unaffected by the ground condition or weather, and was gradually catching up.
I quickened my pace past what I felt was safe, and started stumbling down the hill in a half jog. Landing hard on my heel, I felt a painful shock run up my leg.
I thought I was fine, until a few steps later, a hot pain in my ankle demanded my attention.
I stopped and moved off the path.
As I bent over to rub my ankle, I reached inside my coat and unbuckled my sidearm.
The man would surely catch up while I was recovering.
He continued to approach, fifty, twenty, ten feet, until he was right next to me.
“Hello! Strange day for a hike!” He said as he approached.
“I like to go on weekdays, less people.” I responded.
“Is everything okay? You hurt your foot?” He asked.
“Yeah, just hurt my ankle a little back there. Taking a break to recover.” I answered, keeping my eyes on him, and preparing to grab my weapon if needed.
“Here!” He held out his hiking stick to me, “it’s a bit big for you, but it should help get you back down safely!” He explained in a friendly voice.
“I’m okay, thank you.” I answered, staring down the winding trail ahead of me, I still had a long way to go.
“No, no, no, I insist!” He extended the top towards me.
If he wanted to hurt me, he could have…
I reached out and took the top, and he let go.
“Thank you. What’s your name?” I asked.
“Evan Littleriver, and you?”
“Joan.” I answered.
“Joan! Well I hope I didn’t startle you, I can imagine it can be uncomfortable for a woman to be out here alone with a big man stomping down the trail behind her.” He smiled.
“No, it’s okay.” I answered.
“Well I’ll tell you what, Joan, I can help you back to your car if you’d like, or I can go on ahead if you’d prefer to walk back on your own.”
“Why don’t you walk with me Evan, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” I answered.
“Sure thing! Whenever you’re ready.” He responded pleasantly.
I put some weight on my ankle, and it seemed okay, but I leaned on the walking stick for added security.
“Do you walk this trail often, Evan?” I asked as we started moving.
“Oh yes! This is the trail of my ancestors!” He answered.
“Your ancestors? You mean you’re Native American?” I asked.
“Yes! I know it’s not immediately obvious looking at me, but I’ve got quite a bit of Pequot in me!” He answered, “My grandfather taught me a lot of Native Americans traditions. He’d take me on walks through these woods, and tell me all about their history and legends.”
“Oh really? That must have been fascinating. These woods must mean a lot to you, Evan.” I replied.
“They’re very important to me. I feel a sense of oneness with them. It’s a feeling of belonging that I can’t get in the towns and cities.” He answered.
“It must be pretty upsetting, all the people who come in here, littering, damaging the forest.” I suggested, watching how he would respond.
“Upsetting? Yes. But they’re hurting themselves as much as me. They don’t realize, the woods don’t belong to me, or anyone. They’re a gift for us all to enjoy. When people litter, or harm nature, they’re only hurting themselves.” He explained.
“I wonder sometimes if there’s really a karma. I can’t help but wish something would happen to them, you know? Like, they’re hurting nature, and they get away with it. It’s a shame there can’t be park rangers everywhere to watch them.” I feigned anger, but it didn’t require much acting. People who litter truly do infuriate me.
“I don’t see a need to be angry. Some folks just weren’t raised with the same values as you and I. Besides, nature has a way of taking care of itself.
My grandpa used to tell me a story… no I probably shouldn’t share that. I’m sorry.” Evan trailed off.
“Has anyone ever accused you of being a tease, Evan?” I asked.
Evan laughed, “I can’t say they have! Fair enough, there is a legend of a spirit that avenges those who harm nature.
I think it was just something that elders would tell their children, and began telling the white settlers, to scare them off from destroying the forests.
The legend says when the world cries out in pain, the spirit of the forest will awaken and exact revenge upon those who harm nature’s beauty.”
“What would one have to do to upset this spirit, Evan?” I asked.
Evan looked pensively ahead, “I’m honestly not sure. I would assume something heinous, like setting a forest fire, or pollution, but maybe not! Maybe if the spirit was angry enough, it could be something much smaller, like littering.”
“Or carving your initials into a tree?” I asked.
Evan laughed, “Or that, I suppose! You better warn the highschool sweethearts out there, if so!”
We reached the parking lot after some time, by which point I was fairly convinced that Evan was no more than a harmless hiker with a wealth of traditional knowledge.
“I suppose this is where we part ways, detective.” Evan announced cheerfully.
“But I never told you I was…” I began.
“A detective? No one asks questions the way a detective does. No offense, Joan, but never go undercover! They’ll sniff you out in a heartbeat!” Evan laughed, heading to his pickup truck.
“Have a good rest of your day! And I hope you solve whatever case brought you out here.” He called back to me.
“Thanks, Evan. Have a good day.” I replied, getting into my car. I felt uneasy about the way he had read me so easily.
There was one more hiking location to check out but I didn’t have the location, nor the energy.
The PD was able to get in contact with the first victim and find the location of their hiking spot.
I couldn’t handle another hike the same day.
I went home and got some sleep, then poured over the case files looking for any signs that could trace back to Evan or another hiker.
I called up the PD late that night and requested to have an undercover officer watch each of the hiking spots related to the incidents for any usual activity; cars that lingered too long, or people acting funny.
I also asked them to keep an eye out for Evan.
A week came and went and we convened to discuss the case.
The undercover officers had not seen anything unusual, but they HAD seen Evan at each of the three locations.
“Damn.” I whispered, I didn’t want to have any suspicions about him, he seemed like a good guy, but I couldn’t rule him out either.
I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure if it would work.
I called up the department and requested backup, I needed someone with experience undercover; a man.
They assigned me David Baler. He was a big, handsome guy in his mid thirties, perfect for the part.
We rented a car and drove out to the woods I had not investigated yet together. I dressed up, if Evan was involved, I didn’t need him recognizing me.
“There’s his truck.” I told him.
“Smallriver’s?” He replied.
“Littleriver.” I corrected.
“Right, so you think he’s our guy?” David asked.
“I don’t know. He’s the only lead I have.” I responded grimly.
“So the deal is, we pretend we’re on a date, walk the woods, have a picnic, then go back to a hotel, have a stakeout, and wait to be assaulted?” David asked.
“Yes, so once we leave the car, no detective talk. My name is Amber and yours is John.”
“Right, baby.” David replied.
I shot him an annoyed look.
“What, just getting in character!” He laughed.
We got out, grabbed our bags and headed onto the trail.
The whole time I kept my eye out for Evan, or anything suspicious.
These woods were much more open, with smaller trees, wider trails, and less shrubs. The views were beautiful, between trickling brooks and fields of flowing green grass.
After an hour we found the campsite they had likely stopped at.
“Alright, let’s have our little picnic.” I told Dave, and we set out the blanket, started a fire, and had some snacks.
“So how long have you been a… an auditor?” Dave asked me.
“Since I was twenty five. It’s sort of a family thing. My dad was an auditor before me. How about you? How long have you been in sales?” I poked at my blond wig, making sure my hair was concealed beneath it.
“Pretty much the same. Right out of college, I knew that’s what I wanted to do.” He responded, taking a bite out of a sandwich.
If this was a real date, it would be going pretty shit.
“Do you have any pets, Amber?” He asked.
“I work too many hours, I don’t really have time for pets. How about you, John?”
“I have a dog. German shepherd, retired police dog. Couldn’t ask for a better pet.” He answered.
“Must be well trained.” I replied, not really being much of a dog person, I didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah, he knows a dozen or more commands. I would hate to be the guy that breaks into my house.” He laughed.
“Wish we had him at the hotel.” I faked a laugh.
If someone was listening, we hardly needed a dog scaring them off. The whole point was to lure them in.
We finished our food, and started picking up our picnic to go when Dave stopped and walked over to the trees.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“One last thing.” He pulled out his knife, and sunk it into the tree, slowing carving J + A into the bark.
When he finished, he looked at the woods surrounding us, as if goading on anyone watching.
It made me uncomfortable, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why. It was like the mood of the woods had changed. The birds seemed quieter; the wind went still.
He folded his knife up and stuck it back in his pocket. “Alright, Amber, let’s get back to the hotel. We’re staying at the Moonlight Inn, room thirty seven, right?” He asked loudly.
“Y-yes, John. That’s the one.” I answered.
“Great, can’t wait to get back for a little drink and some fun!” He smiled, and waited for me by the trail, and we walked back to the car together.
When we got back to the parking lot, Evan’s truck was still there, although we had not seen him the entire time.
Could he have been watching us?
We drove back to the hotel as the sun was setting, and brought our things inside.
“I’m going to take a shower, if you wouldn’t mind staying watch and getting things set up. You can go after me.” I told Dave.
“Sure thing.” He answered, and radioed the surveillance van outside.
We had cameras on all corners of the building, microphones, and backup nearby.
I should feel pretty safe.
But I didn’t.
It was like the ill temperament of the woods had followed me back to the hotel. As I washed my hair, I kept feeling the need to peek out of the shower curtain to check that I was alone.
I dried off, dressed, and stepped back out into the main room, putting my gun holster back on.
“I’ll put on some coffee, do you want to wash up?” I asked. He smelled terrible, and I was hopeful he would say yes.
“Sure thing, thanks!” Dave answered, and left to take his shower.
It was dark now, and I shut off the overhead lights, leaving just the bedside lamps on.
Dave came back out of the bathroom not long after, shirtless and toweling himself off.
I grimaced, “Cover up, big boy, we don’t have to take the act this far.”
“Haha, sorry, I guess I’m feeling a bit too at home here.” He answered, pulling a shirt on.
“It’s getting late, I think it’s time for lights out soon.” I told him.
“Right, let me get settled in.” Dave grabbed a big mug of coffee, shut off the lights and opened his laptop.
On our screens we had an IR camera feed of the surrounding property. No one was going to come or go without us knowing.
I kept watching, expecting Evan’s truck to pull into the parking lot at any moment.
Nine o’clock turned to ten, to eleven, and before I knew it, it was one in the morning with no signs of Evan.
I had started nodding off, when Dave woke me, “Hey, why don’t you get some rest. I’ll keep watch, we’ve got six people watching, I think we’ll be okay. I have a feeling Evan is going to be a no show.”
“Sure.” I answered, and headed to the bed to sleep.
I’m not sure how long it had been when I awoke to the screaming.
I flipped on the bedside lamp to see Dave standing in the middle of the room, his shirt soaked in blood. There appeared to be a shadow, cast on the wall beside his own. By the shadows, it appeared like a thin, tall person was standing next to him, but I couldn’t see anyone there with my own eyes.
I watched as wounds opened on Dave’s skin, climbing from his hands, up his white shirt, coming closer and closer to his chest.
“Holy shit! Dave!” I shouted.
The shadow turned and looked at me, but still, nothing was there.
I flipped on all the lights, and the wounds stopped, the shadow disappeared. Dave fell to the floor, gushing blood from the cuts which had reached the outer edges of his chest and the tops of his thighs.
He was screaming in agony, just repeating “Please stop, oh God, please!” When the backup crew burst in the door, as I made the call for paramedics.
Dave was taken to the hospital where it took over six hundred stitches to mend his wounds, and he was heavily medicated for weeks.
I started going back to the hiking trails, looking for Evan.
When I found him again, two weeks later, I told him my story.
He stared into the woods for a long time before responding.
“Detective, I don’t think you’re the kind to lie to me, but I can’t help but wonder how I am to believe this story.”
“I don’t know why you should either, Evan. I can barely believe it myself.” I responded.
“Listen, detective, I’m just the son of a son of a son of a man who once knew about things like this. Whatever truth there may be to these stories has died generations ago. If you’re looking for answers, or a resolution, I have none to provide you.
If you’re looking to stop this thing, I can’t help you.
I’m just a man who loves to hike, with a native bloodline.
I am no mystic nor shaman, nor tribal leader or any sort.
I wish you luck, and I’m sorry about your fellow officer.
I hope it doesn’t happen again.”
And he walked away.
I let him, because I didn’t know what else to ask or say.
After all, he was just a modern man, regardless of his blood. I couldn’t expect him to have the answers I sought.
I spent years searching for tribal leaders and anyone with ancestral knowledge who would talk to me about what I saw, but they all turned me away, and treated me like I was crazy.
I guess I’ll have to find my own way to make peace with the forest.