Since I was young, my grandfather always told me not to go into the woods during the winter. He meant the Hatakin woods located near the border of our reserve and not just any old forest. This always struck me as a scare tactic to keep the children from getting lost or climbing the trees which were so tall you might think they were brushing against the clouds.
That was until this morning.
The day was going as per usual. I woke up and walked over to my grandparents house to greet her for our morning cup of coffee, but something felt off this morning. I am not sure if it was just me still being tired from a shortened sleep due to the storm that had practically terrorized our grounds, but non the less, something was wrong.
When I walked up those old steps on the front porch, it reminded me of the days I would go there as a young kid and jump up as many steps as possible because I was scared of something living under the porch grabbing my ankle as I was walking up. Of course, this was just a nonsense fear and I havent done that for years.
I knocked on the door in a way that wouldnt startle them in their older age, and after about 15 seconds, my grandmother opened the door. This is where I noticed something wasn't the same. As she pulled the door open she looked up at me with an almost confused look. She opened her mouth as if she were about to speak and ask what I was doing here, but her mouth closed and she remained silent. "Good morning grandma, how was your sleep?" I asked her to break the silence so we could move on with our morning routine. She looked at me once again, this time her eyes appeared diluted and scared. "Your grandfather hasnt come home since yesterday evening," she said in a timber voice. With this news I didnt immediately know what to say. My grandfather was practiaclly a seasoned veteran around these grounds and rarely got lost. I took the initiative to ask the question that I feared I already knew the answer to. "Where did he go last?" I said shyly. When I asked this question she stared in my eyes once again and said, "He went into the forest." My stomach dropped. My was brain suddenly filled with all the memories of him telling me how dangerous it was during the winter. I told her not to worry, and that he probably just got invested into a hunt and lost track of time. She still seemed off, and was barely speaking to me, as if she was coming in and out of a daydream. Finally, I told her I was going to go look for him. After all, what did I have to fear? It was the middle of the day and I have never been one to believe in these kind of myths and stories that grandpartents tell the youth to scare them.
I should have believed them.
I began to walk away, climbing down those porch stairs again, when I heard my grandmother finally speak up once again. "He always liked those trees," She mumbled from behind me. I turned my head to see her staring up in the sky smiling, and she slowly lowered her eyes down and met my own. Still smiling. I would be lying if I said that this didnt at least creep me out. I mean, your husband is missing and you are smiling and remembering how he enjoyed the trees? I dont understand. Regardless, I will do my duty and see if I can find him.
I walked for about thirty minutes give or take, until I finally reached the border of the infamous woods which I had been so repeatedly warned about. Seemed normal to me, just a beautiful winter day where the bare trees held a couple inches of snow on each branch. A small amount of wind in the air, just enough to blow the snow around from time to time, but not enough to whistle. I began walking, luckily the snow was only a few inches deep and my boots were high enough to cover until just below my knees. I walked and I walked, calling out "Grandpa! Grandpa!" over and over again in hopes he would hear me. He didnt respond. That was until I could have sworn that I heard someone whistling near this large oak tree about a hundred feet in front of me. I began walking towards the whistle, but I started getting a strange feeling and the hairs on my body began to stand up as I got closer. The whistle was not caused by wind, but It didnt sound like it was created by a person either. It was a single note, dragged out for about ten seconds at a time, never changing. I neared the tree but didnt see anyone. I did the only thing left that I could do. I began to raise my head, and look up. There he was, tangled in the branches with what looked like every limb on his body being broken as if he had fallen from the top but got stuck on the way to the ground. I began to cry and scream for help but then I heard that whistle again. Same note. Same length. I looked up again but this time his eyes were wide open, and his pupils were dialated just like my grandmothers this morning when I met her for coffee. I am not proud of what happened next, but honestly I dont know what anyone else would have done.
I ran as fast as I could back to the reserve.
I was running, crying, screaming, and just hoping to see another pair of eyes that looked normal so I could get that image out of my head. I wanted to see my grandmother but I was scared of her, and I was not sure if I could handle it. But of course I had to tell someone that my grandfather is in that tree, and potentially alive. I went back to my place first, to calm myself down as I was not even entirely sure what just happened was real. I took about five minutes to calm down, have some water, and get prepared to handle this situation I am now directly in the middle of. Finally, I opened my front door ready to deal with whatever I had just experienced. I began to run over to my grandparents house again, almost tripping because my boots were not great for running, but I didnt care, I just had to get to their house.
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