[DaSeaBass_]

Within the crevices of the Cascadian canyon flows the stream in which life is born. Beneath the waterfall the green breaths and so do we. Man and beast would drink for nourishment for one could not exist without part of itself. The beings glared in union. Either could play the role of game but neither could come out unscathed. The brown one had begun to collect water through it's tongue without taking it's eyes off the one who wears it's skin. The mountain man simply filled the canteen and strolled away to show no ill intent although not without staring back at the grisley bear. Returning to the conifers the wanderer ponders to himself if such a monstrous beast was capable of making it's own decision to not attack or if it had simply followed it's instincts. If it was in possession of higher thought what could it accomplish through both strength and intelligence? Why hadn't it gathered together with the rest of it's brethren to achieve more than a human civilization could ever dream of? The hunter came to the conclusion that however intelligent the animal is it was man's role to rule over nature as the Father intended as such beasts were uncivilized anyways.

After hours of walking the mountain man reached an outpost intended for travelers. He was close to his destination. The sun was setting so to continue moving further into the forest would make the mountain man easy pickings for any predator for it was the night they came out to feed. He entered the longhouse begrudgingly to rest for the rest of the night. As the man slept he also dreamt. Within this astral realm he saw a vision of a new beginning. A town had been founded in his name! Of course with having helped with founding the land his family would be one of the most powerful in town. Even after death his legacy would live on through fame and familial blood. Such a romantic goal required a rather grotesque deed though. Convince the Klallam Indians he is going to meet to provide assistance with helping the settlers find their footing with their new homes. Such an act would be beautiful it didn't require exterminating the original inhabitants afterwards to make space for the new ones. Even knowing such an atrocity he would be responsible for he was would enjoy this state of bliss until the morning. After having woken up the mountain man continued forward and met the native people. The Klallam people were accepting of the white man believing they were doing a good deed in assisting his people although they were not correct in assuming they would do the same in return. Before the mountain man left the Klallam tribal elders would give him one bit of advice. To not provoke the Mountain Devils known as the Seeahtik as they do not take kindly to those who disrespect their land which we are thankfully allowed to live on. The mountain man wrote their warning off as superstition as the Indians would always hysterically cry about. He would then go on his way to return to the camp of mountain men waiting for their future fortune.

By the time the mountain man had nearing his destination the sky was darkening but there was no shelter other than the camp. The only option was to keep moving as a chance of survival was ultimately preferable to certain death. He marched stoically believing that within minutes believing hospitality would be awaiting him. By the time he arrived everything was pitch black, the color of primordial chaos. Not a single fire was lit nor did the moon reflect the sun's light. No voice, man or beast was heard. It was the sound of death. The mountain man was stunned. Every decision from then on was a matter of life or death. He lit his torch reveal what had been hidden beneath the night sky. His fellow frontiersmen flayed and disemboweled. It was too barbarically skinned to have been done by a human but was done with too much finesse to have been done by a human he thought. His body would experience an absence of heat for his blood became cold. Unknowingly he had guided the predators to him through light of the torch. He began to bleed drops of sweat after realizing he had just made himself the next trophy. The mountain man attempts to walk about while continuing to stare into the darkness. Amongst the engulfing mass of shadow appearing a glowing pair of eyes. After that so did another pair, and another, and another, and another, and another..... The mountain man had become surrounded. The clouds shift and the moon light reveals the perpetrators. He had never felt this pain before. Never has he truly experienced why it's like to encounter a being unlike anything you have ever encountered. It was fairy tale come to life the kind used to make children fear the world they live in. They were never truly man or beast. They were something in between. They stood about 8 feet tall but rather being lanky they appeared to be as thick as largest logs. The mountain man's heart dropped the moment he heard them growl. It was more than just unintelligible gibberish it was a language in the form of animalistic screeching. Their ursine fur reeked bile scent of corpses and their faces were bare but deformed like a caricature of what a human being that been born physically ill. The mountain devils carried an assortment of weapons such as spears, clubs and rocks but the leader wearing the scalp of his former friend carried a dagger freshly painted red. The moment the leader took a step forward the mountain man attempted to aim his rifle towards the man-beast. He could not pull the trigger nor could he move despite his attempts. The rest of the man-beasts would then drag off the would be hunter into the shadows of the woods as the leader gives a malevolent grin. Once in absence of light the mountain man can only scream for help until the echo of his voice fades away.