The Beast in the Woods

They say rumors start with a kernel of truth. A sound in the dark, a flash of movement, strange tracks in the mud, livestock gone missing. If no one can explain it, suddenly there’s a monster in the woods.

In Pine Hollow, the whispers are always the same: the Beast in the Woods — seven feet tall, half-wolf, half-man, with eyes like burning coals. Campfire tales, traded in hushed voices.

For Mia and Jordan, though, it was just local color. Stories to laugh off. They wanted nothing more than a weekend away, two nights under the stars with the smell of pine and the crackle of a fire.

That was the plan, anyway, when they parked at the trailhead and started down the narrow path. Their well-used hiking bags carried enough food, water, and gear to last. Early fall meant warm afternoons and chilly nights, but they were experienced enough to be comfortable.

The trail was new to them, but a small waterfall at the end promised the perfect reward: a secluded place to camp.

The first few hours passed easily. They hiked in rhythm, pausing to take in the scenery, snap pictures, and greet the occasional hiker. The forest felt calm, alive only with birdsong and the crunch of boots on dirt.

By midday, they paused to check their laminated map. As Jordan slung his pack over his shoulders, his eyes caught on a faint game trail veering into the brush.

He crouched down to study the ground. The damp earth was soft enough to hold impressions, and sure enough, there were tracks pressed into the soil. He expected the cloven shape of a deer, or maybe the long-toed pattern of a rabbit. Instead, his brow furrowed.

“Hey… come look at this.”

Mia stepped closer and dropped into a crouch beside him. The print was oddly shaped—long, wide, almost like a human foot pressed bare into the mud. But the proportions were off, the heel too deep, the toes splayed at strange angles.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Jordan gave a low laugh, forcing the tension out of his voice. “Guess Bigfoot really does hike these woods.”

Mia smirked, but her gaze lingered on the track longer than she wanted to admit.

They pushed on, but the forest no longer felt the same. The birds had gone silent, leaving only the crunch of their footsteps. Jordan tried to joke about Bigfoot needing bigger boots, but his laugh was swallowed by the hush.

A sharp crack split the air. Both froze, scanning the trees. Nothing stirred, though Mia thought she caught the faint scent of wet fur. Jordan shook his head, quickening his pace. “Probably a deer.”

A few minutes later, a figure appeared ahead on the trail. Tall, lean, with a few days’ stubble and a faded ball cap, his half-full pack swung easily from one shoulder.

“Afternoon,” he called, his grin wide and disarming. “Quiet out here, isn’t it?”

The sudden warmth of his voice eased some of the tension. Jordan chuckled, but Mia only managed a polite smile, her gaze flicking back toward the trees.

The man’s eyes lingered on their heavy packs. “Geared up for more than a day hike? Couple nights out here?”

“Something like that,” Mia said, tightening her grip on her straps.

“Smart,” he replied, hitching his own pack higher. It looked oddly light. “Just be careful past the second fork. People think they’re on the right trail and…” He laughed softly. “Sometimes they don’t make it back.”

Jordan shrugged. “Thanks for the tip.”

The man’s smile widened, a flash of teeth. His gaze slid back to Mia. “You two should be fine. You look like you can handle yourselves. Not everyone who comes through here can.”

Mia’s stomach fluttered—not in a pleasant way. She dipped her chin in acknowledgment, eager to move on. Jordan, oblivious, grinned back. “Well, we’ll try not to make the evening news.”

The man chuckled again, stepping aside. “Safe travels. Maybe I’ll see you out there.”

By the time they found a decent clearing, the light was already starting to bleed gold through the trees. Jordan dropped his pack with a groan and stretched his arms overhead. “Home sweet home,” he announced.

Mia rolled her eyes, shaking out the tarp for their tent. “If this is home, I want a refund.”

It didn’t take them long to set up—tent pitched, fire coaxed to life, packs leaned against a fallen log. They sat shoulder to shoulder as the flames popped and spat, the night slowly pressing in around them.

Jordan poked at the fire with a stick, grinning sideways at her. “You know the legend about these woods, right?”

Mia smirked, already anticipating some nonsense. “Oh boy. Here we go.”

“No, seriously.” He lowered his voice, adopting the tone of someone whispering ghost stories to kids. “They say there’s something that lives out here. Half man, half wolf. Tall as the pines, eyes that glow red when the moon hits ‘em just right. Folks say if you wander off the trail too far, you’ll feel it watching. Waiting.”

Mia pulled her hoodie tighter around her shoulders, pretending to shiver. “Spooky. You really missed your calling as a camp counselor.”

He grinned. “Don’t laugh. People swear they’ve seen it. Heavy footprints in the mud, livestock gone missing, campers who never came back.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “Breathing right behind you when you’re alone.”

She squealed, swatting at him with her sleeve, and they both laughed, the sound breaking into the quiet night.

That was when they heard it.

A sharp knock echoed from the trees, hollow and deliberate, like wood striking wood. Mia froze.

Jordan lifted his head, the laughter fading from his face. “Wind,” he muttered, though the word lacked conviction.

Another sound followed—branches crunching under heavy weight. Something moving, not far from the firelight. Mia’s pulse jumped, her breath shallow. She swore she could hear it then, faint and low: the sound of breathing, steady and unnatural in the dark.

Jordan stared into the black wall of trees, jaw tight. “It’s nothing,” he said finally, though his voice had lost its earlier playfulness. “Probably just an animal rooting around. Raccoon. Deer.”

Mia hugged her knees closer to her chest. “That wasn’t a deer.”

Another crack echoed, closer this time, heavy weight snapping twigs. Mia’s breath hitched. “Jordan. There is something out there.”

He swallowed, forcing calm into his tone even as unease coiled in his gut. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll check it out. Just… stay by the fire.” He rose and crouched by his pack, pulling out a fixed-blade knife and a flashlight.

Mia’s eyes widened. “You can’t seriously be going out there.”

“I’m just gonna take a quick look, make sure it’s not a bear nosing around.” He tried for a reassuring smile, but his grip on the knife was white-knuckled. “I’ll be fine.”

She shook her head hard, her voice sharp. “Jordan, please. Don’t.”

But he was already moving, flashlight beam slicing across the underbrush as he reached the tree line. His pulse thudded in his ears. He forced a breath and called out, steady but firm.

“Whoever’s out there, I’m armed.”

The response came quicker than he expected. Branches parted, and a figure stumbled into the clearing, one hand lifted in mock surrender.

“Whoa, hey, easy!” It was the hiker from earlier. His grin returned, stretched just a little too wide. “Didn’t mean to spook you. I was just looking for a spot to make camp for the night.”

Jordan lowered the knife a fraction, relief flashing across his face. Behind him, Mia exhaled, the tightness in her shoulders loosening.

But even as relief washed over them, something didn’t sit right. His story sounded too rehearsed, too quick.

The fire crackled between them, its light flickering across the hiker’s smile.

Jordan kept the knife low at his side, hidden in the shadows, while Mia forced a smile and gestured stiffly toward the fire. “You, uh… startled us.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the hiker said easily, stepping closer. “Didn’t think anyone else would be this far in tonight. You don’t mind if I warm up a minute, do you?”

Jordan hesitated, then gave the smallest shrug. “Sure.”

The man dropped his pack beside the log and crouched close to the flames, rubbing his hands together.

“Not a bad setup you’ve got,” he said. “How long you two planning to stay out here?”

“Couple nights,” Jordan said, voice clipped.

The hiker grinned. “Brave. You must not buy into all those stories.”

Mia’s head tilted. “Stories?”

“You know… the thing that lives out here. Folks call it different names — Dogman, Bigfoot, whatever.” His tone was light, but his eyes didn’t leave her face. “Personally, I think people get themselves lost and make excuses. Easier than admitting you wandered where you shouldn’t.”

Jordan gave a polite laugh, but it sounded hollow. “Guess so.”

The fire popped, sparks shooting into the air. Mia crossed her arms tight against her chest.

Jordan cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. “So, where you setting up camp?”

The man shrugged, almost lazy. “Haven’t decided. Thought maybe I’d stick around here.” His grin widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Unless you’d rather have the place to yourselves.”

Mia’s heart pounded. She caught the faintest flicker in Jordan’s expression, the moment relief turned to something else.

The hiker sat back, stretching out his legs. His grin hadn’t faltered, but there was something harder in his eyes now, something that made Mia’s stomach twist.

“You know what I think?” he said, voice low and conversational, like they were swapping secrets around the fire. “It’s easy to blame things on some big, hairy monster nobody’s ever actually seen. Makes people feel safer. But the truth is…” He let the silence stretch, eyes flicking between them. “…there are monsters walking around every day. They don’t need claws or fangs to tear you apart.”

Mia’s fingers dug into her knees. She shot Jordan a look, wide-eyed. Jordan gave the faintest shake of his head — don’t provoke him — but his knuckles whitened around the handle of his knife.

“Yeah,” Jordan said carefully, forcing his tone even. “Guess you’re right about that. Anyway, uh, we’ve got an early morning. Planning to hit the trail at first light, so…” He gestured vaguely at the tent. “We were just about to call it a night.”

The man didn’t move. His smile thinned, but he stayed crouched by the fire.

He reached into his pack, pulling free a long, narrow hunting knife. Jordan tensed, but the man only unscrewed the cap on a plastic bottle of water with his other hand. He laid a crumpled rag across his knee, dampened it, and began scrubbing at the blade in slow, deliberate strokes.

The cloth came away streaked dark, and Jordan’s breath caught. He couldn’t be sure in the dim firelight, but the stains looked an awful lot like blood.

Mia’s hand flew to her mouth. She didn’t dare speak, but her wide eyes met Jordan’s. The unspoken truth between them was instant and undeniable.

This wasn’t just a man with bad vibes.

This was a predator.

Jordan drew a steady breath, forcing steel into his voice. “Look, man. I don’t know what you’re doing, if you’re trying to scare us or what, but you need to go. We don’t want trouble, but you’re making us uncomfortable.”

The hiker’s hand stilled on the blade. Slowly, deliberately, he stood, the firelight carving sharp shadows across his face. He was nearly Jordan’s height, wiry but taut with muscle, every movement deliberate, calculated. The knife gleamed in his hand.

“Uncomfortable?” he repeated, almost amused. “That’s the thing about fear. It shows you who’s really in control. His grin tightened, teeth flashing in the dark.

Jordan’s own knife was at his side, his posture rigid, but dread coiled in his chest, cold and suffocating. He’d stared down danger before, but this was different. This man wasn’t bluffing. He wanted them afraid.

Mia’s voice trembled. “Jordan—”

That was when it came: a low, guttural growl from the tree line. Deep, resonant, not human. The kind of sound that prickled every nerve and hollowed the air in their lungs.

The hiker stiffened, his head snapping toward the woods. “Coyotes,” he muttered, but the word rang hollow.

Another growl followed, closer this time, and then the forest went still. No insects, no night birds, nothing but the crackle of fire and the thunder of their own hearts.

Jordan’s grip tightened on his knife, though his instincts screamed the weapon wouldn’t help here. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. The stillness of prey realizing a predator was near.

Even the hiker couldn’t hide the flicker of unease in his eyes.

The growl rolled out of the darkness again, this time so close it vibrated in Jordan’s chest. He barely had time to process before the tree line exploded.

Mia cried out, stumbling back as Jordan instinctively stepped in front of her, knife raised. His heart hammered, every nerve firing at once.

It wasn’t a man. It wasn’t a bear.

The thing that strode into the firelight was something out of every nightmare and every whispered campfire story.

A wolf, but impossibly wrong. Twice the size of any natural creature, shoulders rippling with muscle beneath a pelt of shadow-dark fur. Its head brushed the low branches as it moved, massive paws sinking deep into the earth. Its teeth flashed ivory in the firelight, each one long as a finger, and its breath misted hot in the chill night air.

And its eyes, not red as the legends claimed, but pale and glacial, almost luminescent.

It didn’t rush. It didn’t lunge. It came forward with terrible purpose, step by deliberate step, a predator that had already chosen its prey.

The hiker froze, his earlier bravado faltering. His knife lifted, but his eyes darted wild, locked on the beast now stalking toward him.

The creature ignored Jordan and Mia completely. Its gaze never wavered, its snarl vibrating like a warning drum in its chest, every inch of its towering frame fixed on the man by the fire.

The hiker’s breath came fast, ragged, though he fought to steady himself. His knife wavered in the firelight, the steel catching the orange glow, but his hand was trembling.

“What the hell is that?” His voice cracked, pitched higher than before. He tried again, louder, angrier, as if volume could disguise the fear quaking through him. “What the hell is that?”

The beast didn’t flinch. Its massive chest rose and fell with each deliberate breath, low growls reverberating like thunder from deep within its throat.

The man bared his teeth, desperate bravado flashing in his eyes. “Stay back!” he shouted, knife raised. “I’ll gut you!”

With a sudden, reckless burst, he lunged, blade slashing toward the creature’s chest.

But the beast was faster. Almost impossibly so. It moved like it had already predicted the strike. A massive paw swept upward with terrifying precision.

The impact knocked the knife from the man’s grip, sending it spinning into the dirt. The claws carved across his forearm in the same motion, clean and brutal, slicing through flesh like razors.

The hiker screamed, staggering back. Blood poured down his arm, hot and dark. He clutched the wound, wild-eyed, his composure shattering completely.

“God—oh god—” he gasped, stumbling toward the trees. Then he broke, turning and running full tilt into the darkness.

The beast gave chase, its massive frame vanishing into the night with a thunder of paws and one final, guttural snarl that shook the branches above.

Mia clung to Jordan’s arm, frozen, both of them staring after the retreating shadows. The forest swallowed the sound of pursuit, leaving only the fire’s crackle and the echo of the hiker’s fading screams.

Neither of them slept. Every snap of the fire, every rustle in the brush kept their nerves taut. Whether it was fear of the hiker, the beast, or both, neither could close their eyes for long.

With no service on their phones, they agreed at first light to head straight for the trailhead and call law enforcement. As the sun crested the ridgeline, they packed quickly, Mia snapping a few pictures before dismantling camp. The hiker’s belongings remained where he’d dropped them. Jordan frowned, then used a handkerchief to gather the knife, rag, and pack, sealing them in a plastic bag as evidence.

They hiked in silence, moving faster than the day before, flinching at every sound.

Two-thirds of the way down, voices and radio chatter broke the stillness. Rangers and rescue personnel filled a clearing.

“Hold up there,” one called. “There’s been an incident.”

Jordan exchanged a look with Mia. “We know,” he said.

They told their story of the hiker and the thing in the woods. When Jordan handed over the bag of items, another ranger was called, older and grim-faced.

“The man you saw… we’ve been looking for him,” he said.

Mia’s stomach dropped.

“Early this morning, remains were found. Animal attack. Not much left, but enough to match. We believe it was him.”

The words hung heavy. Jordan’s chest tightened, memory flashing of pale eyes and white teeth.

“You’re lucky,” the ranger added quietly. “Whatever you saw out there… it saved your lives.”

The rangers moved on, guiding them toward the trail. Packs dragged, boots struck faster than before, but neither spoke.

At the trailhead, sunlight spilled across the gravel lot. Mia froze, her gaze drawn to the tree line. For a heartbeat, she swore she saw a massive, dark shape lingering in the shadows.

Then it was gone.

Jordan caught her eye. No words were needed.

The rangers could call it an animal attack. The town could keep telling stories. But they knew better.

The real monster had worn a human smile.

And the thing everyone feared?

It had saved them.