Sextant - June 2021

Snowy Solitude

by Jack Henderson Through the canopy of the snow-covered pines shines the almost full moon, glimmering on the freshly fallen snow. Untouched, unspoiled, the forest is at rest, which is interrupted by the crunch of my boots. Weary, I march on through the darkness, and faintly in the distance, nocturnal forest dwellers come alive. Tiny icicles cling to my eyebrows and my beard like stalactites in a cave deep underground. Head down, I trudge on, trying to keep upright under the immense pressure of my backpack. I was still in disbelief at how I had managed to get lost, but I was beginning to lose hope with no radio or map. …

My hunting party had left early this morning, arriving in the woods before the sun had cast its first light across the pristine forest. My party consisted of two of my best friends and one of their teenage sons. Throughout the day, we did not see a single deer or moose, which was our goal. We continued tracking many sets of footprints in the snow, each leading to nothing. Finally, tired and discouraged, the teenage boy named Chris begged to go home, clearly disinterested with the lackluster hunt. His father and my other friend did not take much convincing from him to pack it up and head home. Unlike the others, my disappointment only fueled my desire to keep hunting because a predator must keep going until the kill. I knew that if an animal was dumb or unlucky enough to cross paths with me I would not miss the killshot because, simply put, I never miss. I would strike like an angel of death, and then be on my way out of these snow-covered woods. Much to my friend's dismay, I informed them of my decision to stay behind and told them I would head back before dark as it is not wise to test your luck after nightfall. They tried to argue with me, claiming that it was not safe to go alone, but I assured them that I would be alright, yet they struggled to leave me behind. My resolve was absolute and no argument from them could have changed my mind, and I told myself that I was not leaving this forest until I got what I came for.

I pressed forward and noticed the sky began to darken as ominous clouds covered the warm sun. As the snowfall increased and my luck remained unchanged, I removed my backpack to look at my map to find my way back. Quickly, I realized that my map was not in my bag as I had let Chris borrow it along with my radio. Fear slowly crept into the back of my mind, planting seeds of doubt that would eventually flourish and sprout. Finally, I determined that to find my way back, I must gain a higher vantage point and look for landmarks.

I slung my rifle across my shoulder and headed atop a hill, and from my new perspectivet, I looked out across the valley. My eyes were drawn below me, and I noticed I was standing atop a steep cliff with a drop-off of about twenty feet. I walked close to the edge, and I peered into the distance. Abruptly, I heard the muffled rumble of sliding rock and ice, and my feet were swept out from under me. Unable to react in time, I fell down the cliff into a soft pile of snow, which broke my fall, saving me from catastrophic injury. Dusting myself off, I counted my blessings that I was still alive but soon realized I was missing my rifle. Frantically, I searched through the pile of snow, but my luck had not changed, and I was unable to locate the main form of protection I had from the beasts of the wilderness. Alone in the woods, unarmed and afraid, I was no longer the apex predator, and with darkness setting in along with snow hailing from the sky, I was truly lost. …

Bone-chilling temperatures bite at my exposed skin. Like a child unwilling to sleep without a night light, I am afraid, but I do not fear my nighttime solitude, but rather that I am not truly alone. I can sense eyes, hungry eyes eagerly watching me just out of my sight. Armed with only my hunting knife, I clutch its study hilt, and I continue my trek through the night.