Oh, I’m headin’ through the valley
Where the lone road has no end
Grizzly bear and mule deer greet me
Trapper, hunter ain’t my friend
Take a sip, poor weary trav’ler
Don’t join in, don’t rest your head
Turn yourself back to your trail now
Ravens talk, don’t be misled
I can’t help but miss my darling
In this lonely place I roam
But the elk and lynx console me
Big horned sheep will lead me home
I sang my grandfather’s old campfire tune as my Subaru cruised along the two-lane highway. There was no FM radio reception this far out into the mountains, so my choices were to sing or enjoy the silence. This song, in particular, felt appropriate: it had been two hours since the road had dipped into this valley, and I couldn’t recall seeing an exit since then, even a small dirt road or campground turnoff.
My fuel light flicked on. Shit. This was weird. Even if I had taken a wrong turn, I should have seen something by now. I hazarded a glance at my phone: no reception, so no roadside assistance. I also couldn’t remember the last time I passed another car, so if I ran out of fuel here, I would be stranded, for who knows how long*.*
At an eighth of a tank, I began to panic. Twenty minutes later, my engine sputtered and died.
I rolled to a stop on the shoulder. Still no reception. My stomach clenched. You’re okay, Abby. This will be fine. Just breathe.
The scenery here looked exactly like it had for the last 300 kilometres. Evergreen forest grew in every direction, separated from the road on both sides by a 30 metre stretch of grass. The sun peeked over the trees; it would be setting soon. Somewhere, a raven crowed.
The emergency kit. That was a good idea. I reached into my backseat and pulled out a large black plastic toolbox. It held a flashlight, water bottle, energy bars, blanket, camp knife, and some other essentials. I opened it up and placed it in the passenger seat.
As the sun pulled below the trees, a flash of movement in the treeline caught my eyes. Half curious and half concerned, I pulled out my flashlight and pointed it towards what I’d seen. Nothing. Unsettled, I continued to slowly scan the treeline. I caught something - it looked like a deer’s head, poking out of the trees. What the fuck? As my light hit it, it disappeared - not like the deer had turned around, but like something had yanked the head backwards.
I slammed the lock button on my doors and crumpled downwards into my seat. Shitshitshitshitshit. It was just a deer, just a deer, just a deer… My heart slammed relentlessly against my chest. I took a deep breath, then three more. I slowly rose back upright, and pointed my flashlight towards the trees. I flicked it on. I caught something again - deer heads, three this time.
Except they weren’t heads, they were skulls. FUCK NO.
I swapped my flashlight into my left hand, and retrieved my camp knife with my right. I began to scan both sides of the treeline, praying that I’d just had some sort of hallucination.
As time passed, that started to seem likely. I saw nothing for twenty minutes, then an hour. Deer skulls? I’m going crazy. My heart began to settle.
At some point, I drifted off.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
A skull, pressed against the passenger window. Another on the driver’s side. Another in front of the car.
I screamed. A skull slammed into the window beside me. I screamed. The car handles rattled. I screamed. Another slam - a hairline fracture formed in the glass. I choked.
There were five things pressed up against my car - they stood on two legs, and looked almost human, but with deer skulls where their heads should have been. They carried spears and bows, and wore hide tunics. I caught movement behind them - more were lurking near the trees.
One of the things let out a sound. It was almost a voice, but strained and unnatural - like someone trying to speak while inhaling.
“AHHH-beeee”
The others joined in.
“AHHH-beeee”
Suddenly, in a voice exactly like my grandfather’s, perfectly calm:
“Get out of the car, Abby.”
I screamed.
“I’LL KILL YOU! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! I’LL KILL YOU!”
I fumbled around below my seat and retrieved the camp knife from where it had fallen. I held it out with shaking hands.
The window shattered. A hand reached through and clutched the handle. I thrust forward, burying the knife in the thing’s forearm. It pulled the arm back, taking the knife with it - I held on for dear life. The other hand darted forward, grabbing my wrist. It squeezed - immediately, my hand went numb. It yanked the knife away, and my limp fingers surrendered it.
I backed myself up, trying to slide into the backseat, kicking out desperately with my legs. The car door swung open. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
“pleaseidon’twantodieIdon’twanttodieIdon’twanttodie”
Ignoring my pleas, it grabbed my left ankle and yanked. My head struck the car seat, then the door, then the ground. My vision spun. My hands desperately scrambled for purchase as my body dragged across the dirt and rocks. I bucked, trying to free my foot and get upright; I kicked the thing with my other leg, it didn’t even react. I thrashed and shrieked at the top of my lungs.
The world faded.
I caught glimpses - pockets of consciousness. The deer-headed things all around me. Trees. A worm-ridden corpse hanging from a noose.
I awoke in a daze, and tried to get my bearings.
I was in a ten foot clearing, in the middle of dense forest. At the centre of the clearing was a dining table, with chairs arranged around it. I was seated at the foot - the rest of the places were occupied by the skull-headed things. All of them were quiet, turned in my direction. No animal noises, no sounds of wind whistling through the trees, no ambient sound of any sort pierced the silence in the clearing. There was only me, and these creatures from Hell. The table was set for each of us. In front of me was a goblet of black liquid, and a plate of unsightly meat.
As I looked around, one of them spoke, in the same unsettling voice as before.
“Drink. Eat. Sleep.”
I shook my head.
“Have a sip. You must.”
Something about those words was familiar.
Take a sip, poor weary trav’ler
The song echoed through my head. It reminded me of my grandfather - of nights spent around a campfire in the backyard, singing songs and roasting marshmallows. I would give anything to be back there - anything to be anywhere else. As I continued through the verses in my head, an uncanny realisation swept over me.
The valley. An endless road. Things that mimic human speech, like ravens. They’re hunters. Trappers?
A glimmer of hope in the darkness. It might be a coincidence, but I’d take it over nothing at all.
So that means…
I took a sip of the black liquid. It scorched my tongue, and I stifled a gag. At this, the hunters took massive swigs from their goblets. They broke out into strange chatter - it sounded like a mixture of different animal calls, all blended together into something singular and bizarre.
They weren’t looking at me anymore.
Don’t join in, don’t rest your head
As quietly as possible, I lifted out of my chair, and slunk towards the treeline. They didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they were too busy to stop me. I broke out into a run.
As I hurtled through the trees, I kept my eyes peeled: the song mentioned “trappers” too. I could barely see in the darkness, but managed to narrowly avoid a net strung up between two trees, and just barely noticed a tripwire lying across the forest floor.
I ran, and ran, and ran. Nothing seemed to change, and I had no sense of direction - for all I knew, I could have been running in circles. Once I couldn’t run anymore, I alternated between walking and jogging.
After about an hour, I started hearing voices. Every minute or two, coming from somewhere in the distance. All sorts of perfectly normal voices, some of which were familiar.
“Abby! Where are you?” My best friend.
“Ma’am? Are you out there? Can you talk to us? This is Banff Search and Rescue.” A man.
“Please help me! I’m caught in the net, they’re going to kill me, please help me…” A child.
Ravens talk, don’t be misled
It barely needed to be said. I continued onwards.
After another twenty minutes, I started to hear movement behind me. A long ways off, but getting closer, and moving in my direction. I picked up speed and turned twenty degrees to the left. Two minutes later, the sounds turned as well. They were on my trail.
I was out of energy, and out of options, in the middle of nowhere. Did I really think I could get away? I felt the little sliver of hope in my chest flicker. But it wasn’t dead yet. All I could do was keep running - and I could do that.
For half an hour, I managed to stay ahead of my pursuers. I wasn’t moving very quickly, but neither were they; following my trail must have been difficult.
As lightheadedness started to set in, I spotted another trap ahead. This one was different: it had caught something. It was a net, hoisted a foot off the ground, and inside was an animal, desperately thrashing around.
Poor thing. I’d been running for my life for hours, but something about that trapped animal broke my heart. I know the feeling, little guy. I sighed. I had two seconds until I reached the trap - two seconds to make a choice.
Alright… let’s do the stupid thing.
I was doomed either way. At least this animal could get away if I stopped to help it, even if that allowed my pursuers to catch me faster.
I reached the net, then crouched down, sized it up for a moment, and pulled the fastening knot apart. The creature bucked, and came free. It was a sheep, with two large horns.
Big horned sheep will lead me home
The sounds of the hunters drew closer - almost within a stone’s throw. The sheep took off, and I followed. A dawn glow started to fill the forest.
The sheep bounded through the trees. I desperately pushed through the underbrush, hopping across streams and over stones, trying not to fall behind. My foot slipped on a stepping-stone, and I tumbled to the ground. I hastily struggled to my feet, then slipped again. I stumbled forward another step, and my legs gave out from under me. My overspent body was finally shutting down. The sheep was surely long gone by now - I’d lost my chance, just when there was finally a glimmer of hope. I screamed in frustration and despair, and tears welled up in my eyes. My body refused to move. I curled up and waited for death.
I felt something wet on my forehead, and looked up in shock. The sheep was standing over me, licking the sweat and blood from my face. I smiled in appreciation for a moment; then, with dread, I turned to look behind me. As I feared, the hunters were barely twenty feet away - they had stopped, in a semicircle around us. They brandished their spears and bows, and their skulls screeched and hissed menacingly.
Calmly and deliberately, the sheep stepped in front of me, placing himself between me and my pursuers. It was just a small creature - not more than four feet tall. But as it stood there defiantly, I couldn’t help but feel safe.
The hunters looked jittery now, glancing back and forth between one another. What’s stopping them? Are they afraid of the sheep? The sheep turned his head back and forth slowly, looking at each of the hunters in turn. He stomped his feet - at the same moment, they hissed and screamed like wounded cats, and fled in the direction they came from.
I pulled myself to my feet, steadying myself against a tree trunk. The sheep proceeded slowly now, and I limped onwards behind him. Eventually, the trees began to clear, and he stopped.
I crouched down next to him. “Is this as far as you go?” The raspy voice that escaped my lips barely sounded like my own.
He bucked his head up and down slightly.
Not sure whether it was appropriate, I pulled him into a hug. I started to cry again. “Thank you,” I whispered. He leaned his head into my neck for a moment, then we pulled apart, and he plodded off back into the trees.
The more I think about that night, the more I conclude that I found the favour of something ancient and powerful that day - something that could have easily freed itself from that trap if it wished to.
I continued to the edge of the forest, and I found myself back on the highway. I heard the sound of a vehicle, and turned around - a pickup truck was coming down the road in my direction. I waved my arms over my head, and it began to slow down, then pulled to the shoulder alongside me.
“Howdy!” shouted the burly, bearded man who stepped out. “You drive an Impreza?”
I nodded, too tired to speak or think.
“Happened across your car a bit down the way. I got an extra jerry can if you just need gas.”
I nodded again.
“You want a ride back there? I get if that ain’t comfortable, so whatever you think.”
I nodded a third time.
As we pulled away, I found myself drifting off. As my consciousness slipped away, the driver began to sing quietly:
Oh, I’m headin’ through the valley
Where the lone road has no end…
So there you have it. I made it back to my car - the highway where my car was parked looked nothing like the endless highway I was stranded on - slept in the back for a while, then continued on my way. If there’s a takeaway here, it’s this: pass on the old campfire songs you hear, they could save lives.