It was among friends at a dinner party for exceptional professionals that the topic first arose. Gentlern Rudael was discussing a recent trip he had undertaken to the Northern reaches of Ontario when he mentioned a queer experience he had when his car broke down while travelling near Hearst. Despite his ample income, he had retained an odd affection for his first and only car, an unremarkable blue 1992 Toyota Corolla station wagon. Despite the objections of his family, he routinely used the aging vehicle for his frequent sojourns to the Northern reaches of the province for his studies of wildlife behavioural patterns.
During this particular trip in the early spring of last year, which I'm sure you remember as being frightfully cold and unforgiving even as far South as Toronto, the trans-Canada highway near Kapuskasing was still covered in sheets of snow and ice and is a lonely and hazardous stretch even in the best of times. Gentlern had known the dangers of the road well in advance, but would not delay his going any longer than he already had, as having recently graduated from his master's program at the prestigious University of Toronto, he was eager to return to the work he had started as a young apprentice under the tutelage of the controversial animal behaviorist Frank Mowat.
While stopped for gas and a hot drink in the small town of Hearst, Gentlern overheard some locals talking angrily about a large number of livestock disappearing near Shannon lake north of town. Curiously, he inquired as to the nature of the disappearances as it bore relation to his studies of Coyote/Wolf hybrids in the region, but with one glance the locals dismissed him as an interloper from the city and in a gruff fashion told him to leave. Despite his slim build, Gentlern was no pushover but also had no intention of escalating unnecessary tensions, so he calmly exited the restaurant and went back to his car. His curiosity aroused by the intensity of the situation, he resolved to take a detour along some of the backroads to see if he could gather any kind of information that might further his theory of changing wildlife behavioural patterns.
Although little used, the gravel road leading to the lake was surprisingly passable given the season, and he was almost at the lake when his car began revving irregularly and shortly thereafter ceased propulsion in a sudden and violent spasm of smoke. Although it was only a brisk -5 celsius outside, being late afternoon and with dusk approaching the temperature would quickly plummet to frightful temperatures. Being a hardy and disciplined man, Gentlern did not panic, but set out on foot to an abandoned cabin that he had passed only a few kilometers back. Rather than be filled with the terror that a typical man might feel at his current predicament, he was genuinely happy to be alone outdoors and away from the insipid internet culture that plagued his time in the city. With an air of confidence and a lungful of crisp air unspoiled by the fumes of machinery, he reached the cabin just before sundown. It was fairly rundown and had some odd scratches on the door, but the roof was sturdy and the walls would serve to keep the wind off for the night.
While foraging for firewood, Gentlern noticed some unusual tracks in the snow by the edge of the clearing that surrounded the cabin. Despite his years of animal studies, he could not tell what creature had made them. They appeared to be made by something quadrapedal, but their size suggested nothing smaller than a bear, and yet not one of them contained the fifth toe that distinctly demarcates an ursine. This disquieting discovery had Gentlern slightly on edge, but equally curious. With the winds picking up and light almost faded, he retreated to the cabin and decided to investigate the matter further in the morning.
Despite his fatigue and the late hour, Gentlern could not find sleep. A fierce storm had blown in overnight, and was pelting the frail little structure with all the might and fury of the northern forest, but despite its age, the cabin held firmly against the weather. Sometime past midnight the forest erupted in a chorus of wild howls so loud that it was as if every tree had grown a voice and was screaming its displeasure. Having extensively studied coyotes and wolves, Gentlern recognized the canine vocal patterns, but these howls had a depth of sonic range that not even the largest wolf could possibly produce. At this point being both terribly frightened and absolutely intrigued, his strong sense of curiosity won out, and he decided to open the door to see if he could catch a glimpse of the wildlife that were making such powerful sounds. Just as he got to the door and even as he had a hold of the handle, his blood stopped cold by a sudden and violent scratching at the outside of the door.
To be continued...
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