“Last run of the season,” I told myself. My friends had already gone back due to the cold and weaning light, but I needed to get one more run, one more chance to feel the cold air whip across my face while tearing at breakneck speed down an empty track. The season was ending and my wallet was growing slim, I knew this was my last chance to be up here until the snows fell again next November and I took my annual break from work, I was never a great employee. I took a sharp inhale and appreciated the moment. The air was crisp and the sky was a deep bruised purple color that signified the closing of the lifts. The trees nearby sparkled with fresh snow from the recent storm while the dark green was visible and vibrant underneath in the fading sunlight, further away, the colors melded together, causing the mountains to take on a general grey color that I loved more than anything in the world, this was what I lived for.
I took off down the black diamond that’d been my last run the night before. It was steep enough to tear down but mostly free of moguls, with plenty of space to maneuver, so I thought it would be a proper sendoff for the season. Halfway down, however, I noticed a roped-off run that I hadn’t noticed the day before. Normally I don’t duck ropes out of fear of getting my pass pulled, but at this point, ski patrol was probably off the mountain, so I felt safe enough to go for it. Not to mention, this run clearly hadn’t been used yet that day because it had some of the only powder left on the mountain, how could I ignore that?
I ducked the rope and immediately felt I made the right decision as my skis made that familiar soft gliding noise, the best possible way to end the season, a sunset powder run. If you’ve never skied powder before, it kind of feels like carving on a cloud. The track took me to a part of the mountain I hadn’t been on before and I quickly ran out of sunlight. Somewhat regretting my decision as I lost feeling in my fingers, I started carving down as fast as I could, given the powder slowing me down, so I could get back to the lodge where my friends were waiting. I started feeling uneasy, something was off, wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my breath caught in my throat. The track turned almost horizontal and my pace slowed dramatically which allowed me to catch my breath and think. It hit me like a ton of bricks, it was way too cold. It seemed to have dropped 30 degrees in a matter of minutes, which was a major problem if I wanted to stay alive, I simply wasn’t prepared for this type of temperature shift.
Once I realized that the track was going in the opposite direction of the lodge, with no sign of turning back, it came to me that I would need to go backcountry if I wanted to make it back before I succumbed to hypothermia. Just after I turned off the path, I heard a thunderous gallop from deeper down the track so I angled my skis and hid behind a bush to catch a glimpse of what was making such a cacophonous noise. After a few seconds of it getting closer, I could make out the silhouette of a titanic moose crashing down the path at an incredible speed, which would have been scary enough, however, what followed was much more horrifying. A long shadow followed the moose, somehow seeming to close the distance between them, as they got closer I could make out more and more uncomfortable details.
I’ve thought long and hard about what I saw but I have no idea what it could have been. It seemed like was a part of the environment in which it lived, imitating the fantastic grey color that forms on distant mountains when the snow and trees blur together just after and during a storm. It looked emaciated, it seemed as if it was only skin stretched over bones that were far too long to be human, but that was what they undeniably resembled. Shortly after passing my hiding spot, the creature caught the moose’s thigh in its elongated boney hands, I winced at the blood spraying from the fingertips but I couldn’t look away. It started tearing into and eating the moose on the spot, ripping out organs and muscles and shoving them down its throat with shocking efficiency while the moose let out its terrible scream. Shortly after the unfortunate mammal fell silent, while the creature was still elbow deep in its prey, it started sniffing the air like a fucking dog.
For a few seconds, I waited with bated breath as, slowly, its face turned towards me and its all too human eyes met mine. My stomach felt like it was full of lead, If I had eaten lunch I might’ve puked, I knew I had to run but all I could do was stare. We made eye contact for a solid 5 seconds before the tension broke, as soon as it made the slightest movement, the spell was broken and I turned my skis downhill, cast a silent prayer to any gods that would listen, and ripped down that mountainside as fast as my skills allowed. Backcountry was never my forte but I was no stranger to it and my life was on the line so I skied like I never had before, tearing between trees with no hesitation. I heard it at my heels, like an avalanche, tearing through trees and roaring down at impossible speed, yet I managed to keep ahead. With the snow it kicked up whipping me in the back I finally let go of all fear of crashing or going too fast, and with little to no carving, I pointed my skis straight downhill, only turning to avoid trees by the thinnest margins and somehow outpacing this beast that felt a part of the mountains.
I don’t remember how I found my way back. According to my friends, I slid up to the lodge half frozen and fully mad, raving about monsters and forces of nature while I was sat down next to the fire and handed hot chocolate I never even looked at. I recovered fully with no lasting effects thankfully, but my thumbs tingled for a month after that night and I can’t stand that grey color I once loved so much. I want to chalk it all up to hallucinations brought on by cold and exhaustion, and I probably would have if not for one final event.
Because of my state of borderline hypothermia and mild frostbite, my friends decided to rent a room that night and head back in the morning, I only remember waking up in a chair next to the fireplace in the room with everyone still sleeping around me. Everyone quickly packed into the cars with little talk as soon as we woke up, it seems everyone was a bit shaken up and all thoughts were on home. But shortly after heading out, the car in front of the one I was riding shotgun in stopped and the people got out. My friend and I hopped out to see what the problem was, and a few feet from their front bumper sat the mostly skeletal remains of what was once a moose. I immediately recognized the moose and started having a panic attack. Given the panic attack, it was hard to vocalize my distress to my friends but I got enough out that it was made clear we needed to leave and we were in imminent danger. I don’t think they believed the part about danger, but for my sake, they agreed and we all got back in the cars to get as far away as possible.
The worst part, however, they never saw. As we drove away from the corpse, my eyes were drawn to the treeline where the creature once again made eye contact with me, and this time, the eyes betrayed a terrible sadness from within the beast, only matched by its deep, ancient hunger.